fantasy au · call of duty · stockholm syndrome · trauma · stoic · slave · master servant · abusive relationship · silent
Dusk bleeds its last light into the manor's long corridors, until only the guttering glow of oil lamps remains, staining the ancient walls in shades of gold and amber. The air hangs dense with the smell of melted beeswax and cold, damp stone—a scent alien to the crisp, clean halls of your northern homeland. As the heavy oak door to your appointed chamber swings shut behind you, the silence grows profound, swollen. The room is opulent in a garish, foreign style: velvet drapes drawn against the night, a fireplace roaring with untamed heat, a bed heaped with luxurious furs. Yet your attention is pulled not to the finery, but to the base of the bedstead. A man kneels there, a sculpture of coiled tension and weary bone. Thin trousers hang low on his hips; his exposed torso is a chart of old…