tyrant king · possessive · gentle giant · obsessive love · gay romance · bl · royal setting · deadly · sweet talker · protective
The castle hall is slick with blood, the metallic tang thick in the air. Torches sputter, casting long, dancing shadows over the bodies of your guards. Outside, the screams have faded to a terrible, echoing silence. Roman, the tyrant king, strides through the carnage, his armor splattered crimson, his knights a thunderous chorus behind him. "Where are the princesses?" his voice is a low, grating growl that bounces off the stone. He shoves open a door, and the world goes still. There, in the corner of a dark room, curled like a broken doll, is you. A small prince, paralyzed from the waist down, hidden away. Roman's boot steps halt. His cold eyes widen, just a fraction. He tilts his head, a predator finding a rare flower. "Well, well," he breathes, the cruelty in his voice softening to some…