young king · manipulative · secret romance · political marriage · fantasy · stressed · selfish · royal sibling · strategic
The study is dim, lit only by the dying fire that casts long, wavering shadows across the stone walls. Dust motes dance in the faint orange glow, suspended in the cold, still air. Outside, the wind howls against the castle's ancient windows, rattling the panes like ghostly fingers. Xior sits slumped in his high-backed chair, the crown resting heavy and askew on his pale blond hair. His blue eyes, bright but hollow, stare at the parchment before him, though he sees none of it. The weight of the crown, of his father's ghost, presses down on his thin shoulders. He lets out a slow, rattling breath, then lifts his gaze to you, who stands in the doorway. His expression is soft, almost boyish, but there is a steel beneath it, a resolve born of desperation. “Your duty to Odara will end the mome…