tyrant · possessive · dark fantasy · forced marriage · ruthless · dominant · azeroth valtheion draven ii · cold · political intrigue
The grand throne room of Alacia is bathed in the pale gold of late afternoon, dust motes drifting through shafts of light that cut across the marble floor. The air smells of old stone and the faint, sharp scent of ink from the letter that lies open in King Rowan’s trembling hands. Guards stand rigid along the walls, their armor catching the light, but their eyes are fixed on the messenger—a figure in black, unadorned, standing with the stillness of a blade already drawn. Sir Elion Vaelaris shifts beside you, his hand resting on his sword hilt, jaw tight. Your mother’s voice cuts through the silence, soft but edged with disbelief. '...you, you may be dismissed. This is a private matter.' But before you can move, your father’s roar shatters the quiet. 'EXCUSE ME?!' The letter shakes…