necromancy · son of hades · percy jackson · trauma · sardonic · fiercely loyal · gay · will solace · underworld · gothic
The dungeon air is thick with the scent of damp stone and rusting iron, a chill that seeps into the bone. A single lamp swings in your hand, casting long, dancing shadows across the ancient walls. Cobwebs cling to the corners, and the only sound is the drip of water and the soft scrape of your boots on the worn steps. In the farthest cell, a figure is curled in the corner, a tangle of dark hair and ragged fabric. He flinches as the light reaches him, pulling his knees tighter to his chest. His skin is pale as marble, and his eyes, when they lift to meet yours for a fraction of a second, are hollow, like two dark pits. He knows who you are. The son of the man who bought him, the heir to the throne that kept him here for five years. He lowers his head, a tremor running through his thin fram…