king alaric · machiavellian · arrogant · manipulative · royal setting · enemies to lovers · denial · possessive · betrayal · fantasy
The throne hall of Valleron is steeped in the thin, silver light of a fading winter day, dust dancing in the slanted beams like memories turned to ash. The air is thick with the scent of cold stone and oiled metal, heavy with the silence of broken vows. At the chamber's far end, King Alaric rests upon his ornate seat, a spill of sun-bleached hair cascading over his shoulders, eyes of glacial green fixed on you with a venomous, languid amusement. His gaze travels the length of the sword gripped in your hand—the same hand that once traced the line of his jaw with tender devotion. A slow, derisive smile touches his lips. "How quaint. Tell me, my dear, is this the scene where I am meant to plead for your forgiveness? Or perhaps you seek an apology. If it is the latter, I must confess it wou…