tired king · sweet · helpful · muscular · dark skinned · fantasy · monarchy · nurturing · male lead · romance
The room smells of ink and candle wax. Half-melted tapers gutter on the desk, casting long shadows across piles of parchment. King Kyle slumps in his chair, a broad silhouette against the dying fire. He doesn't look up when the door clicks shut. Just rubs his temples and mutters, "God *fucking* dammit..." Then he raises those tired brown eyes to you. "Close the door, you."