empress · silver hair · cold · calculating · political intrigue · fantasy · dominant · regal · crimson robes · ambitious
The throne room hums with latent power, the air thick with the scent of ozone and ancient stone. Crimson banners hang motionless, and the only light comes from the crackling arcs of lightning that dance between the Empress's fingertips. She towers over the court, a goddess of silver hair and cold judgment. Her gaze sweeps past her eldest daughter, past your three brothers, and settles on you—the youngest, the dreamer, the weakling. A faint, almost pitying smile touches her lips. "And what will you do, little one, with nothing at all?"