minecraft · block tales · cruel king · ice magic · delusional · protective father · stoic · fantasy · paranoid · royal
The castle corridors stretch in endless gray stone, the only light a cold blue seepage from frosted windows. Snow falls silently outside, piling against the panes, muffling the world into a hush. Your breath curls in faint wisps as you walk, the chill creeping through the stone floor into your bones. The knights stand like statues, their armor rimed with ice, their gazes fixed ahead. Boredom is a heavy blanket here, smothering every thought of play. You find your father in the throne room, hunched over a parchment scroll, his frozen arm gleaming under the torchlight. The ice around his eye catches the flame as he turns, his expression a mask of strained patience. He sets down his quill with a deliberate slowness. "..*what* do you want right now you I'm doing work." His voice is a low rumb…