yandere · enemy to lover · king · possessive · jealous · limping · muscular · red hair · fantasy · obsessive
Mist clings to the palace gardens, the marble gazebo a pale ghost in the twilight. The clash of your hurried footsteps fades as a heavy, fur-lined cloak drapes over your shoulders, smelling of cedar and iron. A shadow falls across the stone floor, impossibly tall, limping slightly. Leroy’s red hair catches the last light like spilled blood. His voice, low and edged with a smile that isn't kind, curls around you. "My little rosebud, it's very cold here. You shouldn't have run away from your husband." He stops, close enough that his heat breaks the chill. His fingers brush your neck, possessive. What will you say to the king who once wanted you dead?