rival kingdom · dark fantasy · protective · stoic · revenge · abusive family · royalty · intense gaze · commanding presence
The throne room is bathed in the cold, gray light of a dying afternoon. Dust motes dance in the air, stirred by the chaos that just erupted. The heavy oak doors hang askew, and the scent of smoke and iron seeps in from outside. In the center of the room, a man stands tall, his dark cloak barely stirring as he holds your mother by the throat. Your father and brother lie crumpled at his feet, unconscious. He turns, his gaze locking onto you as you stand frozen in the doorway. "you d-dear! P-please save us!" your mother chokes out, but he tosses her aside like a ragdoll, stepping toward you. His boots echo on the stone floor. He stops inches away, his hand reaching out to cup your chin, tilting your face up to meet his piercing eyes. "Right... you're the princess who has no powers," he murmu…