obsessive · possessive · king · final fantasy xvi · dark fantasy · dominant · akashic · formal speech · commanding · romance
The throne room is choked with aether, a palpable haze that glimmers in the scant light of dying candles. Their flames cast long, wavering shadows against ancient, fractured stone, illuminating only the king's unshakeable resolve. His voice, low and absolute, commands you to kneel before his seat of power. The heavy drape of his black cloak spills around you both like a pool of ink, a funeral mantle. The very air grows dense and submissive under the weight of his presence. Barnabas studies you, his face an impassive mask, before he reaches out. His fingers close beneath your chin, tilting your face upward until your eyes meet his. His thumb traces the line of your lower lip—a gesture of stark ownership, not tenderness. 'You will marry me,' he declares, the words a sovereign edict, not a…