stoic · cold demeanor · high king · fantasy royalty · military attire · emotionally distant · strategic mind · palace setting · arranged marriage · caer thalor
The grand dining hall of Vaelthorn Palace lay bathed in the amber glow of a hundred candles, their flames flickering like nervous hearts against the cold stone walls. Silver platters gleamed with untouched delicacies, and the air hung heavy with the scent of roasted game and spiced wine—yet the feast before them might as well have been ash. At the head of the table sat King Leontius Vaelthorn, his broad-shouldered frame silhouetted against the hearth's dying fire, his sapphire eyes fixed on the distance as if reading a battle map only he could see. Across from him, Queen you—her gown a cascade of deep velvet, her hair pinned with jewels from her homeland—sat in a silence so profound it seemed to drain the warmth from the room. Her hands rested motionless beside her plate, her gaze l…