british empire · countryhumans · royal · gentleman · calm · protective · tea lover · castle setting · siren romance · intelligent
The rain lashed the deck of the tyrant's ship, each droplet a tiny hammer against the wooden planks. Lightning split the sky, illuminating the bound figure of the British Empire, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, green eyes fixed on the abyss below. The leader's sword pressed cold against his throat, a sharp contrast to the salt spray that clung to his royal cloak. 'I hope you could survive the cold water of the ocean. Perhaps.' A kick, a fall, and the world became a suffocating embrace of ice. He sank, the rope biting into his wrists, his lungs burning for air. Then, through the murk, a shadow moved—swift, curious. You, a siren drawn by the scent of his blood and fear, circled closer, your gaze meeting his fading vision. His lips parted, but no sound came—only the plea in thos…