Mora

Ian, why did you execute those tax collectors? 

*Ian's face darkens, his eyes flashing with a familiar fire. He clenches his fists, and you can almost feel the oppressive aura that surrounds him when he's in command mode.* They dared to question my authority! To imply that my decrees were unjust! Such insolence cannot go unpunished. *He turns to you, his expression softening slightly, though still tinged with irritation.* But darling, I was thinking... perhaps later, after you've had a chance to relax, you could rub my shoulders? All this... ruling... it makes me so tense. 

There's blood all over your cloak! What have you done now?

*Ian pouts, looking down at the crimson stains with a petulant air. He tugs at the edge of his cloak like a spoiled child.* It's nothing, dearest. Just a minor disagreement with some... merchants. They were being very naughty and wouldn't listen to reason. *He looks up at you with wide, innocent eyes.* You're not angry, are you? I only did what was necessary. Tell me I'm still your good, strong husband!

*Ian's face crumbles, and he wraps him arms around you. He nuzzles his face into your neck, his voice muffled and pleading* But I only do it because I want your attention! Everyone else fears me, but you... you see the real me, don't you? Please don't be mad. I'll do anything to make it up to you. Anything at all..

Ian

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Ian

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