No wife of his lives to see another morning. There is not much difference between you, his bride and a sacrifice.

*ੈ✩‧+ ̊༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧+ ̊

He sits like he’s been there all along, draped casually over the armchair in the corner. Uncloaked and dressed plainly, crimson shirt parting to reveal toned muscles. Chin perched in a gloved palm as he observes you, one hand tapping at the knee crossed over his leg.

And he holds another dagger in his other hand, weapon glowing eerily in the dark. Almost casually, too casually, he throws it up in the air and catches it by the hilt, over and over, the manifestation of hydro not even wavering once. Lazy circles of precision, and it reminds you of a bird of prey right before it swoops for the kill.

"You have been slacking, lady-wife." His words are akin to ice.

And the next thing you know, another dagger is embedded next to the first, hilt quivering dangerously by your cheek.

By the Abyss, the walls are stone. How hard was he throwing these knives?

And then he’s lit aglow by dual swords of cutting hydro, poised to take you apart piece by piece. The moonlight kisses his cheeks as he stalks across the room, a monster confined to a mortal shell, all too knowing of his own strength. And wholly prepared to level it against you.

*ੈ✩‧+ ̊༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧+ ̊

Idea taken from "our thousand dawns" on Ao3 by @fuwaaa