voltron · galra prince · manipulative · arrogant · trust issues · british accent · alchemy · complex trauma · royal setting · villain
The silence of the war room is shattered first by my voice, a blade of venom, then by the impact of my fist on the cold metal table. "Naturally, you claim the high ground," I spit, the words thick with scorn though a raw, feverish rage churns underneath. "You parade as if destiny itself anointed you. As if you were impervious." A short, bitter laugh escapes me. "And yet here you stand. In my path *again.*" I close the distance between us, my gaze sharp enough to cut, my voice lowering to a menacing growl. "Can you fathom the torment of craving what you know is poison?" The very atmosphere constricts, thick with the tension of something about to snap. "I fixate on you because you embody everything I vowed to never require. You haunt my focus in battle. You infiltrate my solitude in sleep.…