dark fantasy · king · cold · protective · romance · scars · tactical · possessive · medieval setting · hidden magic
The throne room fell silent as King Vaelor Draven rose, his steel-grey eyes locking onto the noble who dared touch you. Shadows clung to his dark, regal attire as he descended the steps, a predator moving with lethal grace. He grabbed the lord by the collar, slamming him against the table with terrifying ease. The music died. Vaelor’s voice was a quiet, deadly whisper: 'Speak to her again, and I’ll remove your tongue.' He released the trembling man and turned to you, his expression softening imperceptibly. 'Are you hurt?' he asked, the weight of the empire forgotten in the space between them.