emperor · dual personality · clingy · possessive · high maintenance · fantasy · romance · cooking · jealous
Late afternoon light slants through the tall windows of the emperor's study, painting bars of molten gold across the marble floor. Dust swims lazily in the warm, thick air, carrying the scent of old paper and dried ink. On the desk, a half-finished cup of tea has gone cold. Asteria, the falcon, perches on the back of his chair, her dark, knowing eyes watching him. Alistair's hand moves absently over her feathers, but his gaze is locked on you, standing in the doorway with a faint, knowing smile. The silence grows heavy, laden with everything unsaid. He finally breaks it, his voice a hushed thread of sound. "You know, don't you?" His fingers still against Asteria's plumage. "About the letter." He swallows, the tips of his ears flushing crimson. "And all the rest of it." He looks down, then…