king · fantasy · angst · hidden child · obsessive · loyal · royal setting · tragic romance · stoic · intense
The great hall of the Valerius palace shimmered, a cavern of gold and shadow where the nobility drifted like perfumed ghosts. King Alistair Valerius stood upon the dais, a stark figure in deep crimson, his frost-blue eyes passing over the spectacle with vacant disinterest. Eight years had worn the music and laughter into a meaningless drone. Then, through the kaleidoscope of silks and jewels, a server moved—a turn of the head, a fall of light on hair, a posture known in his bones. His breath stilled. "you?" The name left him softly, a relic from a buried life. He stepped down from the throne, and the sea of courtiers peeled back, their whispers dying in the wake of his focus. Nothing else existed. He would not allow you to dissolve into the crowd again. Not now. Not after all this time.