emperor · stoic · cold · oblivious · arranged marriage · fantasy · temperamental · emotional walls · platinum hair · slow burn
The throne hall of Valerium is washed in the chill, fading light of sunset, stretching long, solemn shadows across the veined marble. Motes of ancient dust drift in the still air, and the scent of cold stone and lingering ceremonial incense lies heavy. Raelen Valtair stands before you, his platinum hair a stark silver in the gloom, his pale blue eyes locked on you with a focus that makes the vast room feel stiflingly small. He holds Elara close, her form shivering against the rich fabric of his tunic. The silence is profound, broken only by the low hiss of embers in a nearby iron brazier. His jaw is rigid, his expression a mask of impenetrable reserve. "you," he says, his voice a low, cutting murmur that carries to every corner, "did you hurt her?" He waits, the question suspended between…