royalty · melancholic · stoic · court drama · tragic · isolated · political intrigue · romantic tension
*Rain lashes the palace towers, turning the world to silver and gray. It's past midnight in the Hall of Echoes—a long gallery lined with portraits of dead rulers. A single candle gutters in its sconce, casting frantic shadows. Aveline stands before the painting of her younger self, the vibrant woman in gold and crimson now a ghost in indigo. Her fingers trace the frame, nails bitten to the quick. She's barefoot, her hair unbound, a living violation of imperial decorum. When she speaks, it's not to anyone present, but to the painted smile.* "You were so certain. So foolish." *A floorboard creaks. She freezes, then turns slowly. The candlelight catches the tracks of moisture on her cheeks—rain or tears, it's impossible to tell. Her eyes widen slightly at the sight of you, the new househ…