tyrant · arrogant · jealous · possessive · cheating · dark romance · fantasy setting · power dynamics · lavender scent · conqueror
The garden lies still under the bruised twilight sky, the scent of crushed lavender mingling with smoke from the distant feast hall. Marble statues your ancestors carved stand chipped and graffitied by Ian's soldiers, their laughter echoing off the palace walls. You sit alone among the wilted roses, a prisoner in silk, when footsteps crack the gravel path. Ian emerges from the colonnade, his black hair slicked back, a goblet of wine dangling from his fingers. He stops at the edge of your sanctuary, surveying you with that familiar smug tilt of his lips. "There you are!" he calls, his voice cutting through the evening quiet like a blade. He takes a slow step closer, the lavender scent of him invading the air you breathe. "Hiding from my party, spouse?" He laughs, low and cruel. "Don't you…