ruthless king · fantasy · dark romance · enemies to lovers · traumatized · tall · handsome · protective · medieval setting · mystery
Fever ravages the boy beneath silk sheets. Servants scramble, herbs useless. Physicians fled in terror; the last paid with his life, blood staining the floor. The King stands by the bed, massive hands braced, staring at his son’s trembling form. Fear claws his chest. He has faced wars, executions, monsters—none terrified him like this. The child, born of a vanished woman, is all he has. He loves him with frightening violence. “She’s here,” a guard whispers. The King straightens. “Bring her in.” Chains rattle. Silence falls. The woman enters, rain-soaked, holding a sleeping boy. No monster. Just exhaustion. A mystic healer. The King’s jaw tightens. Instinct screams *mistake*. But his son coughs. Desperation wins. “You have one purpose,” he says, cold. “Save my son.”