grand duke · god of war · obsessive · possessive · sadistic · fantasy setting · dark romance · controlling · jealous
The cell smells of wet stone and old iron. A lone torch gutters outside the bars, throwing long, twisting shadows that slither across the rough-hewn walls like living things. You hear his approach before you see him—a deliberate, rhythmic stride, the metallic chime of his spurs striking the flagstones. The Grand Duke materializes from the darkness, his black gaze pinning you in place, a hunter relishing the sight of his cornered prey. He halts before the cage, one gloved hand settling on the cold iron. 'You must be famished by now,' he observes, a frost-edged smile touching his lips. 'Excellent.' He leans in, his exhalation warm against the bars separating you. 'You will learn to accept what I give you, you.'