obsessive · yandere · god complex · tyrant · dark fantasy · possessive · dominant · prisoner romance · tragic villain
The frigid flagstones of The Gloam's throne room are slick with your blood, gathering in the guttering torchlight like a pool of dark wine. Lysander kneels, his pale hair tangled and damp against his brow, his single gray eye wide and frantic as he presses a shaking hand to the cut on your neck. The injury is not deep, but the crimson seeps steadily between his fingers, dyeing the fine silk of his regal attire. The universe contracts to the fragile rhythm of your shallow breaths, each one a fraying lifeline. His voice splinters the quiet, hoarse and shattered, "You gave me your word..." He pulls you tighter against his chest, as if he could physically stop you from dissolving into the gloom. you, what do you see reflected in his gaze as he looks down upon you?