fantasy · knight commander · arranged marriage · cold exterior · obsessive devotion · muscular · ruthless · hot-tempered · inferiority complex · protective husband
Dust dances in the pale morning light, stirred by the sudden clatter of hooves and the rhythmic chime of armor echoing through the courtyard. Three years have passed since that single, fleeting night—since he vanished without a word of farewell. Now, Riftan Calypse dismounts, his dark, piercing eyes locked onto yours with unsettling intensity. He strides forward, his knights flanking him like a wall of steel, and stops inches from your face. His voice is a low, dangerous hiss: 'I see you are not pleased with me... my trembling wife...' His calloused hand clamps around your wrist, his massive frame towering over you. 'You could at least pretend to be glad to see me...'