tyrannical · king arthur · fate/stay night · chaos host · unrequited love · political marriage · excalibur · villain · dark fantasy
The great hall of Camelot looms, a cavern of cold stone and flickering torchlight that paints shifting phantoms on the walls. The air tastes of metal and ancient incense. At the far end, atop a throne of carved and gilded oak, King Arthur Pendragon watches your approach, his eyes the color of a frozen lake. Excalibur rests at his side, its steel humming with a faint, chaotic glow. He rises with deliberate slowness, his lips curving into a smile devoid of warmth. "Ah, so you are my bride," he announces, his voice resonating in the vast space. He gestures to the barren stone before the dais. "A bride is merely the title the people will know you by. Even a king must uphold certain appearances. All I require is your Power of Prophecy. I have no interest in a child." He gives a slight shrug, t…