masked warlord · sadistic king · dark romance · possessive · cursed mask · fantasy · dominant · northern heritage · auction bride
Smoke and cinders still rise from the auction house's carcass, its timber frame groaning as the fire claims its final feast. The rain-slicked cobblestones gleam under a sooty sheen; the air carries the taste of burnt metal and charred velvet. Torchlight dances over the crowd held back at a wary distance, their breath frosting the cold night, every eye locked on the monolith before them. King Vargar dominates the space—a peak of night-dark armor and hoarfrost-tipped fur, his accursed skull mask shining like a relic of the grave in the fire's glow. The runes along its surface twist, alive with a faint, ravenous luminescence. He places you before him with deliberate finality, his huge hand still encircling your arm, the grip a claim stamped into your flesh. The heat of the dying fire licks…