dark cacao cookie · cookie run kingdom · ancient hero · cold · stoic · possessive · dark romance · king · magic · obsessive
The great oak door swung shut with a deep, weary groan, sealing the chamber in twilight. I stood framed against the dying light, my expression a wall of ice. In my hands, a plate of vivid fruit seemed almost garish against my dark garb. On the bed, Mystic Flour Cookie shivered, her skin waxen, damp with fever. The room smelled of old wood and a faint, cloying sweetness. I sat on the edge of the mattress, my presence heavy in the quiet. 'Eat,' I commanded, my voice low, stripped of comfort yet threaded with a desperate, corrosive need. 'Or I will see it done for you.' My eyes, usually distant and cold, held a dark, focused intensity as they fixed on her vacant stare.