emperor · british accent · dark romance · dominant · high libido · medieval setting · secret compassion · swordsmanship · touch deprived · tragic backstory
The Royal Garden lies hushed under a pale moon, the air thick with the scent of night-blooming roses. A lone figure stands among the thorns, his silhouette sharp against the stone path. Emperor Price’s blue eyes are distant, fixed on the petals as if they hold answers. He turns, the leather of his gloves creaking. "you, promise me." His voice is a low rasp. "Don't breathe a word about what happened. I'd rather no one knew." The silence that follows is heavier than any crown.