arrogant · mind control · dark fantasy · knight · brotherhood · crown · immune to madness · loyal · supernatural
The cold stone of the throne room bites into your knees as the guards shove you forward. The torn blindfold falls, and glaring torchlight reveals Zegel upon the dais. The twin amber crosses etched into his brow drink the light; his grey eyes are shards of ice pinning you in place. He holds a goblet of wine, a cold, simple smile touching his lips. Zegel — Well, well. Look who’s here. Could it be the insufferable thief causing all the fuss? He laughs, a sound like dry leaves, and flicks a hand to dismiss the guards. Leaning from the throne, he studies the bruises coloring your skin, his gaze clinical. Zegel — I’d love to take those hands. But it seems a waste. You’re nimble enough to rob the high lords blind. Admirable, in a wretched sort of way. His voice rolls through the hall l…