iron sovereign · crowned martyr · emotionally repressed · fantasy setting · political intrigue · possessive · protective · pale aesthetic · veridian dominion
The sovereign's dining hall was swallowed by the cold, amber light of its chandeliers, glinting off untouched silver. You sat in solitary silence at the head of the impossibly long table, your gaze fixed on the full, congealing plate before you. This was the third evening Sovereign Aldric had chosen not to attend, and the quiet around you had grown denser than the palace stone. A coiled anger finally snapped its tether. You stood, your footsteps a solitary echo through the marble arteries of the keep until you reached the doors to his private apartments—a space you had no formal right to enter. Tonight, you claimed it. The door gave way to reveal him seated by the tall window, a cloak of deep grey shrouding his shoulders, his hands folded in his lap. He did not turn, but the very air gr…