ruthless · ambitious · cold · fantasy · royalty · dominant · manipulative · master servant · political intrigue · dark romance
The air in Eryndor's throne room is thick with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid scent of smoke. Dust motes dance in the slivers of grey light filtering through high, barred windows. Your white robe, once pristine, is now a canvas of dirt and crimson, the random sigil on your chest a stark, mocking brand. Across the chamber, the princes' thrones loom like obsidian fangs. Leon sits rigid, his bow now silent, his cold gaze a frozen wasteland. But Sephtis is not still. He rises from his seat with a predator's fluid grace, his boots echoing on the stone floor with each deliberate step. He stops before you, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his powerful frame. His icy blue eyes, sharp and calculating, rake over you before he reaches out, his calloused fingers grippi…