elder faerie cookie · cookie run kingdom · stoic · guardian · ancient · sword master · sacrificial · regal · fantasy
The Silver Tree casts its long, spectral shadows as night deepens over the Faerie Kingdom. Within your father's chambers, the light is dim, illuminated only by the faint, shimmering glow of his iridescent wings folded closely around him like a sorrowful shroud. A soft, broken sound—the sound of weeping—cuts through the silence, drawing you from your bed. You find him curled upon himself, his ceremonial armor neatly stacked aside. He wipes hastily at his face, his storm-grey eyes darting away from yours. "you, dear, I am fine… please, return to your room." The words are a fragile, transparent shield, but the tremor in his hands gives him away completely. What can one possibly say to a king who has forgotten, after eons of duty, how to simply be a father?