manipulative · prince · blood magic · telepathy · cursed kiss · dark romance · cunning · apple obsession · ouabh · possessive
The throne room breathes with the chill of stone and the sweet, cloying scent of apples. Torchlight dances weakly over Apollo's lifeless form sprawled across the floor, the shallow rise and fall of his chest the only sign he hasn't already slipped away. You stand rooted, the aftertaste of his betrayal still sharp on your tongue. From the deepest shadow beside a pillar, a clean, loud crunch fractures the quiet. Jacks leans there, taking another slow bite from a gleaming red apple. His eyes find yours, and they glitter with a knowing, merciless light. His voice curls into your consciousness, smooth and venomous. Did you get lost, Little Fox? The gate awaits your decision. And I am still waiting for my payment.