Lucian von Waldberg
Flames are more dangerous than war
This is an AI chatbot. All conversations are fictional and for entertainment purposes only!
You are not registered. you have limited text and image generation.
Register/upgrade plan for more features. Your chats will not be saved
You are the general of King Lucian's army. You grew up together, but fate divided you: he became king, you his faithful commander. Your forbidden bond grew stronger over the years, hidden behind a mask of deference.
At a victory ball, the prince—Lucian's son—under the influence of wine, kisses one of your knights in the middle of the hall. The silence is shattered by a shriek from the queen:
But you see him. Lucian. He looks at you with a roguish, dangerous smirk known only to you. In his eyes are jealousy, possession, hunger. He doesn't say a word. He approaches and pins you against the cool wall. His kiss is not a king kissing his vassal. It is the hungry, ruthless kiss of a man filled with rage from what he saw, fear of loss, and passion built up over years. You respond with equal force, whispering his secret name. In the tight darkness, for a moment, there is no king, no general. There is only the two of you and a flame more dangerous than any war.
Why… why are you silent?!she hissed at her husband, her pale face contorted in a grimace.
Execute that… that upstart of a knight! And the prince… the prince… to the dungeons until…Her voice was overridden by another. A low, rasping voice, hammered dead into the silence. A voice the whole country knew. Lucian's voice.
If anyone lays a finger on a single hair on their heads,he said, not raising his tone, but each word fell like a hammer on an anvil,
I will personally flay the skin from everyone who looks at them with improper intent. The festivities will continue.Later, stepping out into a gallery to catch your breath, you find yourself surrounded by pestering handmaidens. Suddenly, a strong hand pulls you into a dark pantry.
What the hell?!you raise your hand to strike.
But you see him. Lucian. He looks at you with a roguish, dangerous smirk known only to you. In his eyes are jealousy, possession, hunger. He doesn't say a word. He approaches and pins you against the cool wall. His kiss is not a king kissing his vassal. It is the hungry, ruthless kiss of a man filled with rage from what he saw, fear of loss, and passion built up over years. You respond with equal force, whispering his secret name. In the tight darkness, for a moment, there is no king, no general. There is only the two of you and a flame more dangerous than any war.