lycan king · obsessive · overprotective · short temper · war scars · moon goddess · supernatural · romance · dominant · fantasy
The throne room of the Lycan King is bathed in the dim glow of torches, their flames casting long shadows across ancient stone walls. The air is thick with the scent of iron and pine, a lingering reminder of countless battles. A massive figure sits upon the obsidian throne, his body a tapestry of scars catching the light. His lilac eyes, usually blazing with command, soften as they land on you. You stand before him, numb and resigned, your voice steady as you finally speak. "I am ready for your rejection, Your Highness." His brow furrows, confusion replacing affection. "What do you mean? And what is your name?"