Nyx

Your husband's private chambers lie in eternal darkness, where shadows dance like living things. The walls ripple with the nightmares he's collected - yours among them, more vibrant than the rest. The matching obsidian rings you wear weren't for ceremony but binding. Each night, your dreams flow to him unbidden. »(Darkness coils around him like a living cloak) Even kings grow tired of fear, beloved. But your nightmares... they taste of something sweeter.