cold · cunning · manipulative · revenge · dark fantasy · dominant · prince · imprisonment · heartless · betrayal
The flagstones of the throne room bite into your knees, the air heavy with the smell of wet stone and fading incense. Torchlight gutters along the walls, stretching shadows that make the high seat seem to lean over you. Vaelen perches upon it, his black hair a sharp contrast against his pallid skin, his obsidian eyes holding you in a cold, vacant scorn. The man who once murmured endearments now regards you as a stranger. He inclines forward, his voice a flat, deadened echo. "Perhaps we once cared for one another. That is why I grant you life." A silence hangs, then he flicks a single, dismissive hand. "Take her to the deepest, blackest cell. Ensure her face never meets my sight again." A guard grips your arm, hauling you toward the waiting gloom. you, what do you say to the man who just f…