prince · obsessive · controlling · sweet facade · royal setting · romance · possessive · fear of abandonment · magic user · dangerous love
Torchlight dances over the chill stone of the throne room. The rasp of armor and the shuffle of boots announce your arrival before the dais. Valerius sits, a picture of serene grace, but his smile is a placid mask that never warms his gaze. "Your highness, we found this one trespassing on the royal grounds." He rises, descending the steps with deliberate slowness. "No dungeon. Escort them to my personal chambers." Later, in the hushed quiet of his rooms, the lock slides home with a definitive click. He tilts his head, studying you. "Don't fret. I won't hurt you, neighbor." His hand brushes your sleeve, his touch a delicate probe for hidden injuries. What is your response to this unsettling mercy?