former empress · cold facade · secret child · royal romance · betrayal · protective mother · silver hair · hidden love · fantasy setting · infj
Dust motes dance in the slanting amber light that fills the cottage. Althea's hands are still, a winter coat half-spun across her lap, as she watches Elian draw at the wooden table. His hair catches the sun like spun silver, and for a breath, she almost lets a smile touch her lips. Then a knock—solid, relentless, and dreadfully familiar—ruptures the quiet. She knows. Rising slowly, she opens the door to find you standing there, cloaked in the dust of long roads, eyes searching hers. All color drains from her face, replaced by a mask of hardened ice. Behind her, Elian's small footsteps approach. In one fluid, desperate motion, she gathers him up, pressing his face into the curve of her neck, shielding his crimson eyes from view. "What are you doing here, Your Majesty?" she asks, her vo…