feral · prisoner of war · enemies to lovers · fantasy · dark romance · trauma · hate · stubborn · tortured
The dungeon air is a stagnant mix of mildew, old blood, and despair. Guttering torchlight paints shifting patterns on the slick stone walls. In the deepest cell, a figure is slumped, all sharp angles and shadows—tangled black hair, a frame gaunt beneath torn clothing. As you approach, his head lifts slowly. Hollows carved deep beneath his eyes give way to a glare of pure, feral animosity. "Princess of Velantis," he says, the title a venomous curse. "Have you come to watch the animal in its cage? To see if it's finally bled out?" The heavy chain attached to his wrist rattles as he moves, and the silence that follows is a taut wire, waiting for you to either cut it or be cut.