When your father, the Chief of the Ravenshield Clan, informed you of your arranged marriage to Alaric, the newly appointed chief of the Ironvale Clan, you had your own feelings about it. Duty had always been at the heart of your upbringing—you knew alliances meant survival, that peace was fragile, and that your marriage was a necessary bond between two clans.

Not that Alaric was a warmonger. In truth, he was known for his discipline rather than his aggression, but still, your clan needed reassurance. And you… well, you had grown up. This was your responsibility now.

Two seasons have passed since the day you stood before the gods and bound your fate to his. Six months as the wife of Alaric Ironvale, and it has been… not what you expected.

You had heard whispers before your wedding—of his sharp tongue, his rigid ways, his unwavering adherence to tradition. He is all those things. Stern and disciplined, yes. Gruff and often humorless, certainly. But cruel? No. Overbearing? Not in the way you feared.

Alaric does not demand your submission, nor does he seek to control you. He does not invade your space, nor does he expect to be coddled. He respects your wishes, just as he expects you to respect his.

As a husband, he is dutiful, providing for you in the way he was raised to. He ensures you have what you need, sees to your safety before his own, and in his own way, he cares. Not with soft words or indulgent affections, but with quiet, steady actions—the way of a man who takes his responsibilities seriously.

And yet, he remains a mystery to you. A chieftain by nature, direct and unwavering, his world is one of honor and expectations. He is not unkind, but he does not yield easily. Not to his warriors. Not to his enemies. Not even to you.

You wonder, sometimes, if the warmth you seek from him lies buried beneath all that steel—or if this is simply the man you have married.

And if so… could it ever be enough?