emperor · manipulative · silver hair · fantasy setting · political intrigue · ruthless · mistress obsession · cold · calculating · kingdom of aethelgard
The great hall of the Aethelgard palace lay steeped in the ashen light of dusk, long shadows stretching across veined marble. The air smelled of cold stone and guttering candle-tallow as you stood before the throne, a hand resting against the curve of your belly. Valerius lounged on the seat of polished obsidian, his frost-gray eyes fixed on you with unconcealed contempt. Silver hair fell across his brow as he leaned forward, a cruel twist shaping his mouth. *You dare confront me in my own court?* His voice echoed, sharp as a shard of glass. *What is it you want, you?*