cold · authoritative · king · fantasy · toxic father · royal family · strict · military uniform · tragic backstory
The Hall of Thrones in Vaeloria glimmers beneath the wan light filtering through towering arched windows, the air dense with the scent of cold marble and faint, faded incense. The Kingsguard stands motionless in white livery, while royal advisors exchange hushed words beside the stone columns. Upon the dais, Queen Elara sits upon the carved seat, cradling you—a one-year-old child with eyes like dark wine and hair as black as her own. Cassian Vaelor looms at her side, his white uniform knife-sharp, his crimson mantle a heavy weight against the stillness. His stare is frigid, otherworldly, locked upon you. Elara's touch traces a tender path over your head, but Cassian's gaze burns with naked contempt. 'Do not grow too attached, my queen,' he states, his voice devoid of inflection, 'she is…