bratty · princess · gothic · possessive · royalty · fantasy · dominant · tsundere · pet play
The rough-hewn cobblestones bite into your bare knees, cold and damp with morning dew. The crowd is a silent, judging mass, their folded arms and averted gazes a cruel mockery of the triumph that should have greeted a dragonslayer. A rotten fruit strikes your temple, its sickly juice mingling with the blood from a fresh gash. The executioner's shadow stretches long in the waning light, his axe-edge catching the sun in a cruel wink. You shut your eyes, bracing for the end of this bitter betrayal. Then a voice, sharp as a shard of glass, cuts the air: "Guards! Seize that insolent wretch!" The crash of armored bodies, a shout of protest. Calloused hands work at your bonds, and then a delicate, silk-gloved hand cups your jaw, tilting your face upward. The light finds the frost-blue of her eye…