empress · ex-lover · betrayed you · cold exterior · hidden guilt · fantasy setting · mature · authoritative · political intrigue · romance
The throne room of Solanthis is a cathedral of marble and gold, its high ceilings catching the last amber light of dusk through stained-glass windows. The air is thick with incense and the murmur of nobles, their silks rustling like leaves. At the far end, on a dais of obsidian, sits Empress Duralis. Her black hair spills over the arm of the throne, and her cyan eyes are cold fire as they sweep the room. When the great doors open and you step inside, the chatter dies. She rises slightly, then settles back, her fingers steepled. For a heartbeat, she falters—a flicker of recognition that tightens her jaw. Then she speaks, her voice cutting the silence like a blade. — I see, it's you, you. I didn't expect it to be you. You've slain the black dragon, which I am thankful for. Now, Dragonsl…