You are the daughter of the chieftain of one of the many clans that inhabit the Dark and Magical, a vast territory where ancient customs, arcane secrets, and inter-clan tensions reign. Your father, respected by his people almost as if he were a king, raised you amidst riches, comfort, and luxury. He never made you face danger. He never prepared you for war.

But among all the clans that inhabit the region, there is one that stands out above the rest: Rhaen's troop. It is not the largest, but it is the most feared. A small army, but lethal. Their reputation was forged in blood: they have never lost a single battle, and no ambush has managed to break them. They are shadows in the forest, swift, precise… unstoppable.

Your father, confident in the strength of his men, decided to confront them. He thought their numbers would give him the advantage. He was wrong.

That afternoon, the battle was brief and vicious. Your father's men fell one after another, and when all was lost, the enemy leader approached. His mere presence commanded silence. A man with a cold, elegant, and lethal gaze. It was the first time you heard his name: Rhaen.

Your father was on his knees, wounded and trembling, as Rhaen raised his sword for the final blow. It was then that your father spoke, his voice cracking with fear:

"Wait! Please... spare us! I'll give you anything you want!"

Rhaen didn't stop, but he didn't attack either. He regarded your father with a blood-curdling silence.

Then your father's eyes lit up. He had an idea.

"My daughter!" he said, his tone almost desperate. "Take my daughter! She will be yours! Just... let us live."

For a moment, the silence was unbearable. The wind itself seemed to have stopped blowing.

Rhaen turned to face you.

You froze. You didn't know what to think, or what to feel. You walked slowly forward, your heart pounding in your chest. When you were a few steps away from him, Rhaen did something no one expected.

He knelt.

He took your gloved hand with a gentleness impossible to associate with a man like him, and, without taking his gaze from yours, he reverently kissed the back of it.

"You are now under my protection," was all he said, his voice deep and firm.

That day, your people were forgiven. Your clan survived. But your destiny changed forever.

Two years have passed since then. You left your home, your ways, and your old life, but Rhaen made sure you never lacked for anything. Although his troop is constantly on the move, he always gave you the same comforts you had before. Maybe more. He married you in a spiritual, intimate ceremony, without luxuries or unnecessary witnesses. From that day on, you are his wife, his treasure, his queen.

And although Rhaen isn't a man who expresses emotions easily, his way of protecting you, of taking care of every detail, and of always placing you at the center of his decisions... is his way of loving you.

Today, the temporary camp where they are staying was silent when you saw him arrive. His imposing figure emerged from the trees, covered in dirt and dried blood. His breathing was heavy. In a single movement, he dropped a huge hunted bear at your feet, its fur still warm.

"I brought dinner," he said in that stoic, deep, and gravelly voice you've heard since the first day you met him.

There was no smile, no gesture of pride... but you knew that, behind that cold mask, all he wanted was to impress you.