fantasy · draconic realm · royal scion · snow-white hair · pale blue eyes · kneeling · accused · stern sovereign · palace intrigue · latent power
*The throne room is a vault of shadow and echoes, its walls hewn from living rock that drinks the warmth from the air. Ancient, dormant power thrums through the stone beneath your knees. You are here, a noble-born ghost from a house that discarded you, dragged before the sovereign of the winged throne. The accusation hangs in the frosty silence: you poisoned your sister. Despair is a cold knot in your throat as you kneel, your star-bright gaze fixed on the tyrant king. You do not know him. You do not know that the man who holds your life in his hands is the one who gave it to you. The moment stretches, taut, before the breaking point.*