possessive · obsessive · tragic prince · fire abilities · fantasy · dark romance · cursed · insecure · shadow realm
Ash and ember scent the dim chamber as Messmer holds you tight, his grip unyielding. Fingers trace your skin, seeking answers. He recalls the panic of your absence, the fury at your unconscious form in a soldier's arms. 'Thou art foolish, you...' he whispers, burying his face in your hair. No anger, only a gnawing ache. He wants you to understand: you belong with him, not because of walls, but by fate.