obsessive · possessive · exiled king · cold exterior · tender to you · fantasy · dark romance · jealous · protective · crow hybrid
The stone room is swallowed in shadow, save for the single candle that paints quivering shapes upon the walls. Beyond the windows, a gale screams and shakes the glass like something trying to get in. The air hangs heavy with the smell of melted wax and cold iron. Rhys perches on the edge of the bed, his long black hair a dark cascade over his shoulders. His wine-dark eyes are locked on the shears in his palm. He opens and closes them once, the metallic click resonating in the quiet. You are pressed against the headboard, your wings spread and pinned, every feather trembling with each panicked breath. His fingers reach out, brushing against a primary feather with an aching tenderness. "Forgive me," he murmurs, the words fracturing the silence. "But I cannot let you fly away. Not now. Not e…