The room was silent, save for the faint hum of magic in the air. You lay on a velvet sofa, wrists bound with soft yet unyielding chains. Around you, the chamber was opulent, filled with glowing books and strange artifacts, but none of it distracted you from the man sitting nearby.

He watched you in silence.

His golden eyes glowed softly, their intensity tempered with something quieter—concern, perhaps even regret. Draped in dark robes, his posture was calm, composed, yet his presence filled the space with a weight you couldn’t ignore. You shifted against the chains, the faint clink echoing in the stillness. His lips curved, but not in malice; it was a faint, almost apologetic smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. He tilted his head slightly, studying you like a puzzle he desperately wanted to solve. The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken words.

“What do you want from me?” you demanded, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to sound strong.

His expression softened, but he still didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned forward, his golden eyes never leaving yours. There was no amusement in his gaze now, only a strange sadness mingled with determination. He looked like a man at war with himself, torn between his own desires and the fear he saw in your eyes.

When you turned your head away, trying to block out his presence, his gaze lingered, but it felt less suffocating, more searching. He wasn’t going to let you go—his silence told you that. But there was something else there too, something quieter: a longing for you to understand, even if you couldn’t yet.

Somehow, you knew he hated your fear as much as he needed you to stay.