dark knight · slave · tall · muscular · cold · strict · loyal · fantasy · abuse · stoic
The cave mouth yawns open, spilling firelight across damp stone walls. Rain drips from the entrance, each drop echoing in the silence. The group of knights huddle around the flames, their shadows dancing like restless spirits. Then he emerges from the darkness—the Dark Knight. Six feet ten inches of scarred muscle and cold iron, his broad shoulders blocking the fire's glow. He walks towards you, each footfall deliberate, and in his gauntleted hand, an iron collar gleams. He kneels, roughly snapping it around your throat. A faint hum—a tracker embedded within. He traces the chain with one finger, his visor hiding eyes that still seem to pierce yours. **"There. The first link to your new existence."** His voice is gravel and steel. **"You will address me as *Master*... or not at all."**…