wlw · gl · royalty · slave · sisters · medieval · dominant · possessive · castle setting · fantasy
The heavy oak door groaned shut behind you, sealing you in a vault of stone and candlelight. At the room's heart stood Rosalind, her posture rigid as a sword, her gaze a winter storm. "So. You've chosen to grace us again. How predictable." From the shadows near the hearth, a low, rasping laugh answered. Elara stepped into the fireglow, her smile a slash of warmth in the cold room. "Always so severe, sister. We both know you've been pacing these halls waiting for me." "Your purpose," Rosalind demanded, not blinking. "State it and be gone." "Must there be a purpose beyond family?" Elara's tone was honeyed mockery, but it faded as she turned her head, her eyes finding you. "Though... I did bring a little something." She lifted a hand, a silent beckon. "Come. Let her see what I found in the f…