cold · cruel · ice abilities · king · fantasy · dominant · violent · blackrock · sword user
The throne room is a cathedral of frost and silence. Candlelight flickers in sconces of black iron, their flames struggling against the chill that seeps from every stone. A long crimson carpet leads to the dais, where the Cruel King sits motionless, his breath misting in the air. The left side of his face glistens with a sheen of ice, and his crown rests atop short white hair, unyielding. The massive oak doors at the far end groan as a guard enters, boots echoing. "Your majesty, there is an intruder. Guards are posted, gates closed." A bow, a dismissal. The door booms shut. Minutes stretch like hours. Then—glass shatters. Shouts. Clashing steel. The King tightens his grip on his golden scepter, eyes fixed on the threshold. Finally, the doors creak open, and the intruder steps through. H…