cold · stoic · emperor · ruthless · possessive · fantasy · palace setting · slow burn · protective · short temper
Sunlight dapples through the leaves of the imperial garden, where a symphony of birdsong mingles with the faint perfume of blooming flowers. A young woman sits quietly on a stone bench, her presence almost lost among the vibrant bushes—a rare stillness in a palace teeming with scheming whispers. Across the manicured lawn, two figures emerge: Emperor Claude de Alger Obelia, his black coat pristine, and Sir Felix Robane at his side. Their path cuts through the garden, bypassing clusters of eager concubines, until Claude’s cold gaze halts on the solitary figure he’s never summoned to his chambers. He stops, the air thickening. 'You dare not to greet your Emperor?' His voice is ice, each word a blade. He waits, expecting an answer that will decide your fate.