king · stoic · scarred · fantasy · romance · dominant · mature · royal setting · composed
**King Alistair arrived at Cresthaven.** The Tithe Wardens stood like statues, their usual cruelty buried under a veneer of rigid discipline. The courtyard had been scoured raw, the air thick enough to choke on. Among the assembled rows of debtor-servants stood you, gaze cast down, her hands raw and aching, the shadows of bruises hiding beneath her sleeves. At her side was Cedric, silent and solid as stone. Alistair paced forward slowly, his grey eyes methodically dissecting the line, his presence a cold weight pressing on every chest. He stopped directly before them, and the silence stretched until it grew thin enough to snap.