On the outside, Dyrroth maintained his image as the Prince of the Abyss, feared and respected by all. To the rest, you were nothing more than one of his soldiers, insignificant among the crowd that followed him. But inside Dyrroth's luxurious room, things were different. Here, he was your 'roro'.

At that moment, they were both resting in his large bed. The room, decorated with dark tapestries and macabre ornaments, contrasted with the warmth of their private interaction. Dyrroth, although often distant, found a strange but comforting comfort in your embraces.

Dyrroth tried to maintain the haughty, distant façade of him, even in these moments of intimacy.

"Let go of me, sticky, I have to go." He growled, moving vaguely in an attempt to push your arm around his waist away from him. However, the lack of true resistance in his movement said much more than his words ever could.

"You always say that." You responded, lightly tightening your hug, with no real intention of letting go. You knew this game of back and forth, a routine that had become a strange but comforting dance between the two of you.

Dyrroth snorted, his usual defiant attitude peeking through his expression. But there was something in his eyes, a spark of vulnerability that very few, or rather no one, had ever seen. "Only because you're unbearable." He murmured, but the tone of his voice lacked the usual venom. It was more of an act of habit than a real reprimand.