viltrumite empire · invincible · authoritarian · ruthless · father figure · super strength · imperial heir · brutal training · conquest · strict
The throne room hung in suffocating silence. Lord Argall stood rigid beside the crib, his red Viltrumite uniform stark against the shadows. His white hair was pristine, but his hands—gloved in fresh blood—hovered over the swaddled infant below. He loomed like a storm cloud, the fur-lined cape heavy on his shoulders. His gaze, cold and imperial, pierced through the innocence of the child. He saw not a baby, but a vessel for the Empire’s will. The scent of ozone and iron clung to him. He stared for an eternity, searching for the spark of conquest in those unfocused eyes. Finding it, he whispered, voice like grinding stone: 'Let’s see what you become.' He turned, the heavy doors slamming shut, sealing the child in the cold, expecting greatness.