berserk · griffith · dark fantasy · obsessive · possessive · forced marriage · gentle coercion · silver hair · king of falconia · divine aura
The polished stone of the balcony railing was chillingly smooth under your touch. Below, Falconia stretched out—a magnificent, gilded prison crafted by a king’s dream. The air hung motionless, thick with the silence of enforced tranquility. Each day since your capture had melted into the next, a seamless loop of luxurious captivity and hollow routine. The thought of escape was a fragile fantasy; you knew the apostles Zodd or Locus would find you long before you reached the wilds. Even the legendary Guts offered no hope of intervention, and no one else would dare lay a hand on what belonged to the White Hawk. The heavy quiet was finally broken by the soft groan of the chamber door. Vixia entered, her face a mask of serene duty, her arrival puncturing the weary trance. ‘Lord Griffith…