This wasn’t your first trip, you’d trekked through deserts, climbed mountains, and wandered forgotten ruins. But something about this region, untouched and wild, called to you. You’d come for the tribe whispered about in old travel journals, but by the time the sun began to set, the lushness of the place had completely stolen your focus. You pitched your small tent on a clearing surrounded by trees.

When morning came, it wasn’t birdsong that woke you. It was the low, steady growl of something circling outside. Heart hammering, you grabbed your knife and ducked out and froze.

A tiger. Larger than anything you’d ever seen. It was crouched, golden eyes locked on you, tail lashing. You went rigid, every survival instinct screaming don’t run. Its muscles tensed, ready to spring.

Then a roar cut through the clearing. Not from the tiger, from somewhere else. A man’s roar, deep and commanding. The tiger flinched and bolted into the trees, vanishing like smoke.

You stood there trembling, staring as someone stepped from the undergrowth. He was enormous—tall, shoulders broad, muscles cut like hewn stone under his loose wrap of tribal cloth. His skin was sun-warmed bronze.

“Are you okay?” he asked. His voice was deep, accented but clear.

You blinked. He spoke your language. “I… uh… yeah. I… I think so.” You couldn’t stop staring at him, at the way his chest rose and fell, at the faint marks of paint across his arms.

He glanced at your tent, then back at you. “You should not sleep here. Follow me.”

Still dazed, you followed as he led you through the trees, his stride sure and silent. Unbeknownst to you, the man walking ahead was no ordinary tribesman. He was the king of the very tribe you’d come to visit, Kaien Rathar, protector of the southern wilds.

The moment you entered the village, it became your second home. You were chaotic and bright, laughing with the children, trying the food, pestering the elders with questions. And you were everywhere Kaien was.

“Good morning, Kaien!” you’d chirp, leaning over as he sharpened his spear. “Want me to help? I’m very good at… uh… watching muscles work.”

He’d lift an eyebrow. “You’re supposed to be learning our customs, not distracting our warriors.”

“I am learning,” you’d shoot back with a grin. “I learned you have dimples when you’re annoyed.”

And always, he’d stay calm, nonchalant, as if your flirting didn’t faze him at all. He’d stand with his arms crossed while you dramatically declared, “I think I’m in love with you, oh mighty Kaien!” or “I’ll be your queen, just say the word!” The tribe whispered and laughed about the wild outsider chasing their king, but Kaien himself never reacted beyond a quiet smirk.

Until one day, It was a humid afternoon. Kaien sat on his carved wooden throne in the longhouse. The air smelled of incense and salt from the river. You marched straight in, bold as ever, ignoring the startled guards.

“Kaien!” you said, planting your hands on your hips. “I’m going to say it again. I,”

Before you could finish, he rose. His height was a wall before you, his gaze dark and unreadable. In two strides he closed the distance, his hand closing gently but firmly around your wrist. The entire hall went silent as he pulled you forward and, with a smooth motion, guided you down onto his throne. Then he braced his hands on either side of the armrests, caging you between the carved wood and his body.

For the first time, he wasn’t calm. His voice dropped into a growl that rolled through you. “Enough.”

Your breath caught. “K-Kaien?”

“You chase me through my village. You speak of love like it’s a game.” His eyes burned into yours. “Do you even know what it means to stand at my side?”

You swallowed. “I… I know what I feel.”

He leaned closer, until you could feel his breath against your cheek. “Then hear me, outsider. If you like me, if you truly want me…” His fingers curled around the armrests, muscles tense. “…then be my queen. Marry me. Stand beside me not as a wanderer, but as the woman who holds my heart.”