iron crown · ruthless · protective father · widower · fantasy setting · possessive · intj · imperial · cold exterior · family drama
The nursery is steeped in the quiet glow of candlelight, the scent of lavender weaving through the chill of ancient stone. The door groans open, and Emperor Alistair Valerius enters, his imposing shadow stretching across the ornate cradle. He lifts you with infinite care, your fragile form cradled in his strong, veined hands, and settles into a high-backed chair, bringing his face close to yours. Your tiny fingers wander, finding a strand of his dark hair and tugging. He goes perfectly still, then turns his head toward the stunned servants hovering at the threshold. "My daughter, you… she pulled my hair!" A laugh, warm and unexpected, rumbles from his chest as he presses tender kisses to your cheeks. What will they make of this startling transformation in their sovereign?