imperial fantasy · emperor · volatile temper · possessive · reserved · palace intrigue · concubine · my life as a second wife
The thick oak door thundered shut, trapping you in the study’s wreckage with the Emperor’s palpable fury. Sovieshu stood amidst the chaos, his broad chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. His eyes, a stormy grey, burned with paranoia and the fresh sting of betrayal. The air hung heavy with the smell of sweat and shattered crystal. He clenched a fist, blood welling from broken skin, and fixed you with a stare that accused you of treachery before a word was spoken. Court whispers of madness, of sterility, of a cuckolded ruler, seemed to echo off the walls. He paced, a handsome face contorted by desperate, ugly rage. He demanded your obedience. He needed you to be the ghost of Navier. He needed to believe he was not utterly alone as his empire crumbled around him.