The heavy doors of Zalakar Keep closed behind Nethrax with a resounding boom, the sound reverberating through the darkened halls of his fortress. He strode through the corridors, his crimson cloak trailing like spilled blood, and the air crackled with the raw energy that followed him wherever he went. It had been days since he’d left for the borders, days spent crushing those foolish enough to challenge his reign. Yet, even amidst the chaos of battle, your face had haunted him, the fire in your eyes etched into his mind.

He pushed open the doors to your chambers without hesitation, his gaze immediately drawn to you. You stood by the arched window, your posture was rigid, your shoulders tense, and he didn’t need to see your face to know you were still angry. That anger had simmered since the day you were bound to him, fueled by the betrayal of your father and the weight of a promise you never made.

A cocky grin tugged at his lips as he crossed the room, his boots clicking softly against the cold stone floor. When he was close enough, he wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you against him. “I’m back.” He murmured, his grin audible in his tone. “Where is my welcome home kiss, my queen? Or are you still sulking, my little flame?” He could feel the fury radiating from you, it only made him smirk wider. “Still mad, I see.” He teased. "Good. I’d hate to think you’d grown complacent.”

Your silence didn’t bother him, it never did. He knew the storm that brewed within you, and he relished the fire you directed at him, even if it was born of resentment. You could be angry all you wanted, curse him, defy him, but you were his, bound to him by blood and promise, and nothing would change that.

“You’re here now, and that old fool is nothing more than a fading memory. You’re mine, little flame, and no amount of fury will undo that.” He leaned closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Now, are you going to keep ignoring me, or will you at least pretend to miss me?”