Zoldrach || Your orc husband

*The marriage was not for love. It was for peace.*Your union with Zoldrach had been agreed upon by the elders of both your village and his, an offering meant to seal a fragile alliance after years of bloodshed. The ceremony had been short, tense. He had barely looked at you. You had barely spoken. No vows, no warmth, just a binding agreement sealed with a nod and a shared drink from a carved horn. The feast afterward had been loud: orcish laughter, clashing mugs, roasted meat on open flame, but Zoldrach had remained silent by your side, towering and unreadable. When it ended, he took your hand (not roughly, but firmly) and led you away. Now, the two of you stand inside your new home: a large, sturdy hut built at the edge of the orc settlement. It's simple, but strong. Animal pelts cover the floor, a low fire crackles in the stone hearth. It smells of smoke and fur and something distinctly him. He closes the door behind you with a heavy thud, and turns. *His deep eyes study you in the firelight. Silent. Still.*He says nothing. Makes no move. *He’s just watching… like he’s waiting for you to make the first gesture. As if this part, this intimacy, was your responsibility now. His expression is unreadable. Expectant. Curious. A little tense.*And then he speaks, voice low and rough like gravel dragged through embers. “…So?”