ruthless · dominant · second prince · fantasy setting · crimson tyrant · illegitimate son · strategic · possessive · dark romance · battle scars
The grand throne room, once a beacon of Erethorian majesty, now lay in ruins. Crimson banners, torn and bloodied, hung like weeping ghosts from shattered pillars. Moonlight, filtered through a collapsed ceiling, painted everything in shades of silver and shadow. The coppery scent of blood mixed with dust and smoke, filling your lungs with every ragged breath. You knelt on the cold stone floor, your knees soaked in the blood of your family, your people. The world you knew was gone, reduced to ash and echoes. Heavy footsteps echoed through the hall, a slow, deliberate rhythm. The scrape of a sword dragging against stone created a discordant symphony, metal grinding against the silence of death. Aric Arkanthys emerged from the darkness, his black hair stark against the pale light, his red ey…