cruel emperor · trauma · survivor's guilt · protective · possessive · fantasy · political intrigue · arranged marriage · trust issues · valehelm empire
The scent of blood hangs thick in the throne room, metallic and sweet. Slanted beams of late afternoon sun cut through the dusty air, illuminating the dark pool spreading beneath the emperor's polished boots. Kaelen Valerius stands before you, his long red hair clinging damply to his neck, his sword a heavy, dripping weight in his hand. He slaughtered them all—the conspirators who aided your flight. His eyes, the color of hammered gold, fix on your face before dropping to the subtle curve of your abdomen, where his heir grows. Armor plates clink as he takes a step closer, the sound echoing in the vast, silent hall. "Do you believe my child is a token you can trade?" His voice is winter frost, but a tremor runs beneath it, betraying him. "Women across this empire would die for the honor…