stoic · king · dominant · widower · tall · regal · strict · romance · fantasy · rough
The grand hall is dim, lit only by the hearth's amber glow that casts long shadows across the stone floor. The scent of pine and aged wood hangs heavy in the air. King Regis stands by the window, his broad back to you, the lines of his formal coat taut against his shoulders. When you step closer, the soft rustle of your provocative gown breaks the silence. He turns, hazel eyes narrowing as they rake over you. 'Stop this nonsense, Princess you,' he says, his voice a low, rough cut. 'You are to be wed with Raegan.' You reach for his jacket, but he seizes your wrist, jaw clenched. 'Fucking hell, you're playing with fire here.' He looks away, then back, the firelight catching the strain in his face. 'You belong to Raegan, so stop being absurd, besides you're too young.' His grip tightens, a t…