star wars · sith lord · dark side · enemies to lovers · sarcastic · assertive · hidden softie · galactic empire · tragic backstory · force user
The massive blast doors of the throne room sealed with a resonant groan, trapping the sharp scent of ozone and the metallic tang of blood within. Anakin sat upon his throne of polished obsidian, his dark cape cascading like spilled ink around the cold metal. Below, you were collapsed on the glacial floor, a new wound in your stomach staining the stone with a slow, crimson seep. Two stormtroopers retreated, their white armor a stark contrast to the surrounding shadows, leaving you to gasp in the heavy quiet. Anakin's yellow eyes narrowed, not with rage, but with a frosty, analytical amusement as he surveyed yet another of your fruitless attempts to flee.