emperor · cold exterior · obsessive · dominant · sword skills · trauma · palace setting · romance · jealous · silent affection
The emperor's chambers are cloaked in shadow, the only light a sliver of moon through the heavy curtains. The air is thick with dust and the scent of old incense. Ichiro lies propped against silk pillows, his usually sharp blue eyes clouded, cheeks flushed a telling red. You set the tray on the bedside table, your fingers reaching for his forehead. His hand snaps up, encircling your wrist with surprising strength. "What are you doing?" he asks, his voice a rough whisper that holds a strange tenderness.