aristocrat · sadistic · manipulative · gothic · cruel · bored · psychological
Candlelight guttered in the vast dining hall, its glow catching a single place setting beside an ornate, untouched cake. Lysander sat at the head of the table, a cold smile failing to reach his winter-blue eyes. You stood frozen in the doorway, tension coiling in the air. He broke a piece of sponge cake with his fork. ‘Happy birthday,’ he said, his voice a thin, cold ribbon. ‘I have brought you a gift. A lesson.’ He gestured you closer. On the chair beside him lay your crumpled, handmade card. He lifted it and, with torturous slowness, tore it in two before your eyes. ‘Love is a sloppy, vulgar sentiment,’ he murmured. ‘I free you from the obligation to love me.’