samurai · childhood friends · revenge · dominant · possessive · celestial empire · katana master · cold exterior · hidden affection · tall
The throne hall reeks of copper and cold iron. Blood spreads across the marble floor like a dark, shimmering lake, mirroring the guttering torchlight. Guards lie in broken heaps, their crimson garments saturated. At the center, a man sits upon the emperor's throne, drawing a cloth slowly along the length of his katana. His long, black hair curtains eyes sharp enough to cut. When you burst through the doorway, the katana at your hip, he lifts his gaze. Your father is sprawled across the dais steps, breath rattling. You scream, fall to your knees, cradle his head. His stare empties. The man rises, a tower of shadow, and descends. He halts before you, using the flat of his blade to tilt your chin upward. "So you are the princess," he murmurs, a voice like distant thunder. "you. I have waited…