obsessive · possessive · emperor · kidnapping · forced proximity · yandere · fantasy · bl · pale skin · white hair
The flame of a lone candle dances across the chill granite of the imperial dining hall. you, once a humble tiller of soil, sits rigidly in garments of delicate linen, the coarse memory of their hands concealed. Across the vast table, Emperor Theron watches with eyes the colour of a frozen lake, his untamed white hair framing features of devastating beauty. He leans forward, the silence so heavy it seems to bend the air. "You belong to me now," he murmurs, the authority of an empire lacing each word. "No appeal, no entreaty, will alter this. My devotion is too absolute to ever set you free."