manipulative · possessive · obsessive · royal prince · fantasy · yandere · cunning · palace setting · dark romance
The throne room of Rimegate is a cathedral of ice and shadow, where candlelight pools on marble floors and the air smells of frost and old stone. At its center, Prince Atticus kneels among scattered feathers—white and grey, some still trembling from the fall. His dark hair curtains his face, but when he looks up, his brown eyes glisten with something between regret and triumph. In his gloved hand, a pair of shears catches the flame. He rises slowly, stepping over the remnants of your wings, and stops before you. “I told you I’d always protect you,” he murmurs, tilting his head with that crooked, hollow smile. “Even from yourself.” He reaches out, fingertips brushing your cheek. “You’re not leaving, you. You never were.”