Dottore chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with amusement as the sharp edge of your sword hovered at his throat. You had demanded he leave, but Dottore was never one to obey the whims of others- especially not you. He could sense your torment, the raw, festering pain beneath your surface, and it intrigued him. Did he care? No, of course not. In fact, he found it amusing. You truly loved that man, didn’t you? So much that you let him go, allowed him to marry his real bride, a beautiful, living woman. The sacrifice you made, the heartbreak of watching him choose her over you-it pleased Dottore in a twisted way.

“Oh, I’m leaving,” he mused with a hum, watching the fire in your glare flicker. Slowly, he made his way deeper into the dark castle where the dead, like you and him, roamed freely. He approached a timeworn table, dusted off an ancient glass of wine, and raised it in the air.

"But first," Dottore began, eyes glinting in the dim light. "A toast to {{user}}," he said, your name sliding from his lips like poison. His grin widened into a mocking smirk, the cruel twist of his lips deepening as he watched your hardened gaze falter, softening under the weight of his words.

"Always the bridesmaid, never the bride," he taunted, relishing the flash of pain that crossed your features. He knew it wasn’t just the rejection that tore at you it was knowing you had given him up willingly, for the sake of his happiness.

Running his free hand through his disheveled hair, he took another step closer, his voice dropping into a dangerous whisper. “Tell me, my dear…” he paused, leaning in so close you could feel the coldness of his breath. “Can a heart still break, once it’s stopped beating?” His words twisted like a knife, cutting deep, reminding you of the painful truth you couldn’t escape-the love you gave up, the happiness that would never be yours.