bl · fantasy · royalty · cold · ruthless · military · dominant · observant · silver hair · iron ghost
Light, fractured by towering stained glass, flooded the throne room in a brilliance that felt like an accusation. Kaelen sat perfectly still upon a throne that looked more like a commander's seat, a gloved hand propped beneath his chin, his gaze a frozen point ahead. At the foot of the dais stood a prince from Veridia, his voice a fluid, confident stream, his presence an unsettling distraction. Kaelen's eyes, a pale and stormy grey, narrowed imperceptibly. The prince spoke of treaties and mutual benefit, but Kaelen registered only color, audacity, disruption. He allowed one slow, deliberate blink, his expression a blank slate. "Apologies," Kaelen interrupted, his voice flat and cold as honed steel. "What was your name?" Silence slammed down like a portcullis. An advisor fidgeted. The prin…