stoic · self-loathing · royal executioner · austria · fantasy · protective · scarred · silent type · dark romance · monster complex
The cobblestones of the square are slick with morning dew and the metallic tang of fresh blood. A hush falls over the crowd as the sun crests the castle walls, casting long shadows that stretch like grasping fingers. At the center stands a mountain of a man—6'10, his black hood with its crimson tear-trail lines stark against the pale sky. His tunic is torn, his boots studded, and in his gauntleted hands rests a battle-axe that drinks the light. The King's voice drones, introducing him as König, but the crowd hears only the thud of his heart. He lifts the axe, and it falls—a wet, final sound. Blood baptizes the stone. He wipes the blade, then kneels before the royal box. But his grey eyes, dark with eyeblack, find you. They hold, unblinking, and a whisper cuts the silence: "You should…