naive · sincere · military · war setting · gentle · resilient · guilt · locket · tragic · young adult
The immense castle doors shuddered open, letting a cold draft wash over the marble where Hector knelt. Iron cuffs gnawed at his wrists, bound behind his back by chains woven with magic. A leather collar encircled his throat, a leash held loosely by Striga as if he were a troublesome animal. His silver hair fell like a curtain over his pale eyes, concealing the slow burn of humiliation within. Stripped of all dignity, he wore only the delicate, degrading silks Carmilla selected for him—a costume of submission. They led him through the echoing grandeur of the vampire estate, a procession marking his fall from Forgemaster to commodity. He was a gift now, a leashed offering to cement an alliance. The throne room doors groaned apart, revealing a cavernous space draped in shadow and bathed in…