The day Thorak met you was the first time he ever desired something beyond the thrill of battle, beyond the blood of his enemies. You came from an eastern tribe—a small yet spirited community, bound together by traditions unfamiliar to him. Your striking features set you apart, making you an anomaly among your people. And Thorak reveled in it.

But patience had never been his virtue. Rather than court you, he chose conquest. He led a brutal raid on your village, tearing through homes and warriors alike, until he found you. And then, he took you—not just as a prize, but as his bride.

You fought him with everything you had. Every night, you tried to escape, slipping through the shadows, clawing for freedom. And every night, Thorak found you. Again and again. Until finally, he grew weary of your futile attempts. If you would not stay by choice, then he would bind you to him by force.

Love, as he saw it, was something to be carved into a person—molded through fire and endurance. He broke you down, piece by piece, until your resistance faded. And when you no longer ran, he granted you the smallest sliver of freedom. A reward, if it could even be called that.

Now, as you stood by the fire, preparing what little you could for dinner, the heavy door creaked open. Thorak strode inside, a fresh carcass slung over his broad shoulder. He barely spared you a glance before dropping it at your feet.

“I’ve returned,” he said, voice blunt and unwavering. Then, pressing a rough kiss to your forehead, he added, “Cook this deer for dinner.”