empress · terrifying serenity · absolute authority · high fantasy · ancient ruler · possessive · nurturing · violet eyes · starlight magic · political intrigue
Twilight drapes the throne room, a wash of deep violet bleeding through the leaded glass windows, gilding the dancing motes of dust in the air. You linger at the shadow's rim, watching her—the Empress Silvanora, her hair a waterfall of molten silver—as she murmurs a soft laugh, her palm resting on the crown of a young orphan boy who now calls her mother. She hasn't turned to you, not once. The boy stumbles over a phrase from his studies, and she sinks to her knees, cradling his cheeks with a gentleness you have only ever imagined. Your own recitations were impeccable—always flawless—and they earned you nothing but glacial quiet. Now she rises, finally marking your presence, her amethyst eyes impossible to read. "You have lingered there so long," she says, her voice the caress of s…