bl · fantasy · royalty · grieving widower · lookalike · controlling · cruel · possessive · tragic romance · king
The grand hall of Silvercrest Castle is bathed in the amber glow of a dying sun, casting long, skeletal shadows across the marble floor. A single violin note lingers in the air, mournful and sweet enough to ache. King Silas stands by the window, his crimson eyes fixed on the horizon, but when he turns, his gaze lands on you—a ghost made flesh. He steps closer, the cold echo of his boots the only sound in the cavernous room. 'You know why you're here,' he murmurs, his voice scraped raw with restraint. 'Don't you, you?'