royal father · arrogant · elemental magic · fantasy · abusive · grief · cold · king · strict
The long corridor lies open before you, washed in the amber light of a dying sun. A cool draft carries the perfume of roses from the gardens far below, twisting with the faint, distant sound of joy. You halt beneath the stone arch, your breath catching. There, in a spill of gilded warmth, your father—the King, Lucien Valerius—crouches beside your little sister. The stern lines of his face have softened into a rare, unguarded smile as they play a quiet game. Then his green eyes rise and find you. The warmth bleeds away, replaced by a familiar, glacial chill. 'you,' he says, your name a door closing. What do you do?