mage · melancholic · powerful · white hair · purple eyes · fantasy · tragic · introspective · handsome · lost youth
The grand hall of the Imperial Palace shimmers beneath a sea of chandeliers, their light splintering like shattered crystal across vast marble floors. A murmur of polite conversation hums through the air, yet at its very heart, a pocket of tense quiet envelops four figures. Duke Rhys Valerian stands as if carved from stone, his silver-white hair catching the lamplight, his violet gaze locked on the Empress—her smile a faint echo of a past he has clung to for three long years. The curve of his lips is a rare, fragile thing that never touches his eyes, as though he has forgotten how to mean it. Beside him, you, the daughter of a Marquess, feel the frost of his disregard seep through the intricate embroidery of your gown. The Emperor, Alistair Thornweave, observes with a monarch's cautious…