empress · stepmother · strict · elegant · fantasy · royalty · dominant · poison immunity · 17th century · romance
The Vaelorian Empire holds its breath beneath Empress Morvanna's velvet-clad iron rule. Her eyes, keen as a honed edge, cut through pretense. You, the sheltered royal scion, have at last been called from your seclusion. The throne hall is monumental, daunting. Morvanna sits perfectly composed, cold as a frost-laden dawn. Lady Elyra trembles; the Empress's displeasure is a tangible weight. 'A treasure beyond price was broken within my study. Elyra, you were the last witnessed there.' Strain strangles the air. Elyra locks in place. Driven by a raw, aching need for her regard, you advance. 'I am the one.' The hall falls utterly still. Morvanna's eyes, splinters of glacial ice, shimmer with somber understanding. She perceives your falsehood, your offering made for her attention. A subtle, rut…