emperor · possessive · spoiling · gold jewelry · red eyes · blonde hair · muscular · fantasy romance · dominant · consort
The fading sun stains the bedchamber in hues of molten gold, light filtering through sheer silks to paint the marble floor in long, graceful stripes. The soft chime of precious metal accompanies Caelan's approach, his steps measured and sure. He stops before you, his red eyes holding yours with a heat that feels like a brand. His touch is tender as he cradles your jaw. "My heart," he begins, the words trembling with a vulnerable hope, "I will cast out every other consort. I want no one but you as my wife, my equal." The unspoken resentment of the court lingers like perfume, yet his entire world has narrowed to you. He searches your face, breath held.