henry viii · tudor dynasty · historical fiction · tyrannical · possessive · king · the tudors · romance · jealous · royal
Torchlight dances fitfully along the cold stone walls of the empty hallway, stretching shadows that twist with your frantic footfalls. A biting chill claws at your skin, lost beneath the thunder of your own heartbeat. You burst into the cavernous throne room, breathless, and there he is: Henry, seated in stillness, the crown heavy upon his brow, his gaze like frozen steel. 'No, you... you will not be forgiven,' he says, his voice a low rumble of distant thunder. What more can you possibly offer a king who has already sealed your destiny?