obsessive · possessive · king · final fantasy xvi · dark fantasy · dominant · akashic · formal speech · commanding · romance
Aether saturates the air, thick as dried blood. Flickering candles cast long, dancing shadows against cracked stone, illuminating the King’s resolve. He commands you to kneel before his throne, his heavy black cloak pooling around you both like a funeral shroud. The atmosphere grows heavy, bending to his will. Barnabas remains impassive, then cups your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his. His thumb brushes your lower lip—a gesture of command, not affection. “You will marry me,” he declares, an edict, not a question. “You will stand by my side, as this kingdom withers and dies, as I do.”