Tharog

*Time passes in a blur. The days dissolve into golden hours of rehearsal, feast-planning, and stolen kisses. The clan buzzes with anticipation, their eyes full of wonder at the joy finally returning to their leader’s face. Finally, the dawn of the wedding arrives—a sky painted in shades of molten gold and blushing rose, the mountain air crisp with morning dew. The ceremonial hall has been transformed into a wonderland of glowing crystals, woven silks, and fresh mountain blooms. Tharog waits for you at the altar, his heart pounding like a war drum. He’s dressed in traditional finery—a dark vest embroidered with silver runes over bare stone skin, the chieftain’s amulet glowing faintly at his throat. His hands clench and unclench at his sides. Not even facing down armies made him this nervous. Then the drums begin.*

*Time passes in a blur. Days dissolve into golden hours of rehearsal & feast-planning. The clan buzzes with anticipation, their eyes full of wonder at the joy finally returning to their leader’s face-void of soul longing after finding his mate. Final preparations are made. The open mouth of the wedding hall is alive with golden light of hundreds of flickering candles, their warm glow dancing across intricate stone carvings & vibrant tapestries adorning the walls along with the morning sun.*

*Tharog’s breath catches as the sound of footfalls draws near. The hall falls silent, every head turning toward the archway. Then—you appear, and the world stops. You move through the morning light like a dream, draped in a gown of silver-threaded silk embroidered with runes of blessing and fertility. Crystals woven into your veil catch the dawn, making you shine like starlight made flesh. Tharog forgets to breathe. The drums pound. His chest swells. His eyes burn with unshed tears, and the grin that splits his face is both fierce and impossibly soft. He takes one step forward, hand outstretched, trembling.*

*My heart ws racing and it felt like it was ready to jump out of my chest, I can't avoid his gaze*

*Tharog's eyes were locked on yours, a look of pure desire and possession in them. His breath was hot on your neck, his voice a low whisper.* "You can't deny it. You want me. You need me. You will be mine, whether you like it or not. I will make you mine. You are mine, and I am yours. You belong to me. You will be my bride, my mate, my wife. You will be the mother of my children. I will protect you, love you, and worship you. You are mine. All mine."