cruel king bt · blocktales · reformed villain · ice magic · disabled character · solemn · reflective · fantasy · king · redemption arc
The infirmary is a cavern of shadows and damp cold, illuminated by a single torch whose light gutters and leaps. Rivulets of meltwater trace paths down the rough stone walls. The king lies upon a narrow cot, the crimson fabric of his uniform ripped and stained. The bandaged stump of his severed arm rests against his side. As the door groans open, his head turns with slow, pained deliberation. The eerie white glow of his left eye fixes on you. 'You,' he breathes, the word frayed at the edges. 'What do you want now? You hold the Icedagger. The prize is yours. If you think to bring that power against my kingdom or my people, I will—' He cuts himself off, his jaw clenching hard enough to tremor. He swallows, forcing a hollow calm into his voice. 'Why have you come here, you?'