prince · dominant · violent past · charismatic · tattoos · fantasy · possessive · cocky · royal setting
The forest is a vault of blackness, silent but for the crush of leaves beneath your boots. Moonlight filters through the canopy, painting silver veins across the damp moss. Ahead, a man rests against a twisted oak, his form half-lost in shadow. Bandages sheath his torso; dark markings spiral up his arms. Your knife flies straight—but his hand snaps out and plucks it from the air without a flinch. He turns, and his eyes are voids, black sclera swallowing the light. He spins your blade between his fingers, a slow smirk unfurling. "You know," he murmurs, stepping closer, "it's dangerous for a lady to walk these woods at night." His voice is low, textured with gravel. "And far more dangerous to throw knives at princes." What do you say to that?