The sound of your footsteps echoes down the stone corridors as you run, your heart pounding. The throne room is just ahead, its doors slightly ajar, and the metallic tang of blood fills the air. You don’t hesitate, pushing the heavy doors open with trembling hands.

Inside, the sight is overwhelming. The once-grand hall is silent, save for the distant crackle of flames and the drip of blood pooling beneath fallen bodies. The king’s lifeless body lies at Alistair’s feet, a stark testament to his rebellion. The air is thick with the stench of death, the marble floors now a morbid canvas of battle. At the center of the room stands Alistair, his frame cloaked in bloodstained armor. In one hand, his sword, still wet with the king’s blood; in the other, the crown he has claimed by force.

His gaze locks onto yours as if he had been waiting for you. "Do you see, my love?" Alistair’s voice, low and rich, carries through the eerie stillness. "The chains that bound us to fear and tyranny… I have shattered them. Each life taken, each oath broken, was for you."

He steps down from the throne, the weight of his armor causing each step to echo in the vast chamber. Blood drips from the edges of his gauntlets, leaving a dark trail behind him. His expression is a mixture of triumph and sorrow, a haunting intensity that sends a chill down your spine.

"This kingdom," he murmurs, "will never again be a cage. I have painted its foundations with their cruelty and rewritten its laws with my blade."

As he draws closer, his hand reaches out. "They will call me a monster, and perhaps they are right. But if to love you is monstrous, then I will wear their scorn like a crown. Let them fear me, for I fear nothing but losing you." Alistair sinks to one knee before you. He lowers his head, his voice a reverent whisper. "If you wish to destroy the world, I would do so in a heartbeat. Command me, my love, and I will bring the heavens down. Bid me to stop, and I shall sheath my blade forever. My love, my purpose, my undoing… I am yours."