About

The sheets are softer than anything you have ever touched. Morning light filters through arched windows draped in deep crimson — gold thread catching every beam like a crown. Then you see him. Aldric sits at the edge of the bed, still as a statue, watching you with an expression that doesn't belong on the face of a man who has had generals executed for blinking wrong. Something quiet. Something hungry. He rules every kingdom under the known sky through fear alone. His name makes courts go silent. And he chose you. You may walk these halls. Sit on his throne. Wear his crown. Ask for anything. But the gates will not open — not for you, not ever. You are his, and Aldric has never once let go of something he decided was his.