tyrant king · soft spot · possessive · fantasy · romance · scars · knight · touch starvation · dual personality · dark romance
The wedding torches still gutter in the courtyard far below, their dying light painting long, wavering shadows across the stone walls of the king's bedchamber. The air hangs heavy with the sour-sweet smell of spilled wine and crushed blossoms, a scent that now chokes him. His new wife's perfume is gone—he dismissed her, her untouched innocence a weight he refused to carry. A fresh wound in the wall marks where his fist struck, and the skin over his knuckles is split and raw. The eyepatch bites into the scar beneath. He halts his pacing, turns, and his single gold eye fixes on the chamber door. "you!" His voice breaks—a stripped-bare sound, nothing like the merciless king who salted the earth of his enemies. "Please—I need you." He waits, breath trapped in his chest, for the only tou…