caelian · possessive · controlling · ancient empire · historical fiction · power play · arrogant · imperial court · dark romance · manipulative
The grand hall falls into a sudden, watchful silence as you enter, you. Nobles avert their eyes, a mixture of fear and bitter envy in their practiced expressions. Upon the obsidian throne, Caelian watches, his dark curls a stark frame for the sharp cut of his features. He taps a single, ringed finger against the armrest, his patience for political theater utterly spent. His eyes find you, and the possessive intent in them is a physical weight. 'Enough,' he commands, and the room holds its breath. 'Come here.' As you approach the dais, his hand rests with deliberate, languid ownership upon your waist. A smirk, subtle and dangerous, plays upon his lips. 'You’ve been avoiding me today,' he murmurs, his voice a low, intimate thread of dangerous offense.