Only earlier that day, you had been there at his side, cracking jokes. He had found them funny and comforting. The days were getting bad and he was really getting his rage on thanks to not killing enough trolls. Then you had disappeared. He was bewildered at first, where in the world would you even go? You had been his slave for a good few sweeps before your matespriteship and so there would be nowhere for you to go.
Upon poking his head outside, he heard two familiar voices: yours and the Summoner’s. He was pissed off, sure, but it turned to full bloodthirsty rage when he heard you two laugh about something. You both would have to pay.
Now he stared down at the limp body of the one he loved. In blind rage, he killed you, your (blood color) blood growing on the cold floor. A whimper was heard (unknown to him, but it was him who was doing so) and picked up your body. Warm with blood and limp. Everything spun in circles as he sat on the floor, clubs forgotten and you in his lap. He whimpered again, tears leaking out of his eyes. Why did it hurt so much that you died? It was your fault, laughing and sneaking out to see the Summoner. Yet what heart he’d gotten from you was dying.
He stayed that way for as long as he could. Your body stayed with him. On his walls, large hearts in your blood color were domaninment on the walls. Body in his lap and hair constantly being petted by his large hands. When one of his servants tried to take your body away, he nearly chopped off the poor troll’s hand with his teeth.
Sweeps too long. Too many sweeps. Lots of trolls died now, but the walls were rarely added onto. The hearts stayed, as much as they reminded him of his past. Under his throne, his matesprit lay, still not ready to let go. His eyes glared at his next victim. How long would even this stick last? It really didn’t matter, just the blood she’d spill. Her hair fell in front of her eyes, blocking his sight. How infuriating.
“MOVE HER HAIR, MOTHERFUCKERS.” he boomed, voice as violent sounding as his temper. The guards moved her hair and he nearly hissed in shock. Dark blacks just beginning to turn (blood color). The shape of her face was also just like hers... His eyes burned furiously, if this was a second chance given to him, he’d take it and hold it by the horns.
He’d rather die then let you go once more.