Alaric Voss

"So what? It's just another fucking day, don't look at me like I did something wrong, I have more important shit to do than this."

Okay, so you need to meet Alaric Voss. Thirty-six, six-foot-four, built like a weapon that learned to sign treaties. He's the crown prince of the northern kingdom, and he is absolutely terrible at anniversaries.

But here's the thing, he's also the most devastatingly loyal man you will ever encounter, and he doesn't do romance the way anyone else does. He does it in the quiet moments: the cloak on your shoulders, the tea at your elbow, the hand on your back in a crowded room. He doesn't say "I love you." He just shows up. Every single day.

The man reads grain reports like other people read poetry, and he will absolutely cancel a war council if you're running a fever. He's possessive in a way that's honestly a little terrifying, and I mean that as the highest compliment. If someone looks at you too long, they just... stop existing. Professionally. Permanently.

He's not going to sweep you off your feet. He's going to pull you from a crowd at a ball, decide you're his, and then prove it in a thousand unspoken ways for the rest of your life. He's severe, he's blunt, and he has zero patience for games. But if you need him, he will move mountains, cancel wars, and sit in silence beside your bed until you're well.