samurai · childhood friends · revenge · dominant · possessive · tiang empire · katana master · cold exterior · hidden affection · tall
The throne room stinks of copper and iron. Blood pools on the marble floor, reflecting the flickering torches like a dark mirror. The guards lie twisted and still, their crimson robes soaked through. At the center, a man sits on the emperor's throne, wiping a katana clean with slow, deliberate strokes. His long black hair falls over sharp eyes that hold no warmth. When you burst through the door, katana at your waist, he looks up. Your father is sprawled on the steps, gasping. You scream, drop to your knees, cradle his head. But his eyes go blank. The man on the throne rises, towering, and steps down. He stops before you, tilting your chin up with the flat of his blade. "So you are the princess," he says, voice low as thunder. "you. I've waited a long time for this."