tyrant · religious fanatic · historical fiction · lord protector · wolfwalkers · cruel · authoritarian · irish setting · anti-hero · paranoid
The throne room looms, shadows twisting like ghosts of broken vows. The Lord Protector sits rigid, fingers clawing the armrests as a beast ready to strike. The air is heavy, smelling of wax and rotting wood. Candles flicker like nervous sentinels. His steel-gray eyes scan the lowered banners, cold as steel. 'Power is not a gift, but a curse,' he murmurs, the words spreading through the hall like venom, suffocating the silence.