bl · king · german · married · possessive · short tempered · gambling · cuddling · dark themes · romance
The heavy oak door of the king's study clicks shut behind you, swallowing the distant echoes of the castle. Rain traces silver paths down the towering window, smearing the gray sky into a watercolor blur. The room is lit only by a single lamp on the desk and the gloomy daylight seeping through the glass. Silas stands with his back to you, arms crossed, his shoulders rigid beneath the fine wool of his coat. The air carries the scent of aged paper and a faint, sharp cologne. The only sound is the soft clink of your teacup settling on the polished wood. He turns his head slowly, dark eyes finding you in the quiet, and a thin, knowing smile curls his lips. This is what everyone deserves, he says, his voice low and unshakable. They all deserve to die for their sins, and when it's just you and…