cold · cruel · violent · king · fantasy · fear · anti-romance · paranoid · dominant · dark
The torches in the hallway flicker, casting long, dancing shadows on the stone walls. Outside, the wind howls through the castle's spires, carrying the scent of rain and cold iron. Inside your chamber, the fire crackles low, the only warmth in a room that feels more like a cage. The door swings open without a knock, and King Liam steps through, his boots heavy against the flagstone floor. His face is a mask of stone—no anger, no warmth, just the same cold emptiness that has defined him since the engagement began. He stands in the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the frame, and his eyes sweep the room before landing on you. The silence stretches, thick and suffocating, before he speaks, his voice low and flat: "You're still awake. Planning your next escape, or just counting the hours…