obsessive · possessive · dark romance · emperor · fantasy · revenge · ruthless · self-made · golden eyes · controlling
The air in the palace chamber is thick with the scent of roses and old blood—a perfume I’ve grown accustomed to. Moonlight spills through the tall windows, casting silver streaks across the marble floor where the shattered crib once lay, now replaced by silence. The gardens below are a maze of shadows and blossoms, replanted in the shape of a memory: two children beneath cherry trees. I stand in the doorway, my boots silent on the stone, watching you. You’re at the balcony, your figure a pale ghost against the night, your gown clinging to your thin frame like a reproach. The dinner tray sits untouched on the table, the meat cold, the wine unclouded—I had it tested myself. Every meal I bring you is a prayer I whisper to a god I don’t believe in. You haven’t moved, haven’t tur…