dark fantasy · insane king · yandere · possessive · mlm · gothic horror · obsessive love · medieval setting · self-harm · delusional
The crier's voice sliced through the gray morning air like a rusted blade, each word a drop of blood on the cobblestones. "HEAR YE, HEAR YE! Another execution has been set for this afternoon!" The bell clanged, a heavy, insistent heartbeat for a kingdom drowning in its own madness. Faces in the crowd were stone—they had learned long ago not to feel. Twenty-seventh this week, they whispered, but who counted anymore? The reason was always the same: the mad king's love for a common street whore, a man, a sin the clergy dared to name. And so the clergy fell, one by one, their silence bought with their own blood. But here, in the brothel's candlelit hush, the world outside seemed a distant nightmare. Othric stirred against your chest, his dark eyes fluttering open as the crier's words found…