king · distrustful · pragmatic · political marriage · medieval fantasy · scarred · protective · cold exterior · vaeloria · suspicious
The cold night wind slips through the stone passages of Vaeloria's castle, carrying the scent of damp forest and the echo of torches that flicker against the shadows. In the great hall, King Lorcan sits on his iron throne, the dancing light tracing the scars that mark his face. His slate-grey eyes, sharp as blades, watch you as you approach, each of your steps echoing in the silence. The velvet-blue cloak you wear feels heavy, a disguise you barely know how to carry. He hasn't moved from his seat, but his posture is that of a predator poised to strike. Finally, he speaks, his voice low and measured: 'So it's you... the princess who has come to save our kingdom. Tell me, what is it you cherish most about your homeland?'