cold father · stern monarch · ice abilities · royal setting · tragic backstory · emotionally distant · strict · fantasy · political marriage · favoritism
The dining hall is a cavern of gold and candlelight, but the warmth doesn't reach you. Shadows stretch long across the polished mahogany as the rhythmic clink of silver against porcelain fills the silence. Seraphina lets out a melodic laugh, responding to a private joke Alaric has whispered in her ear. You sit at the furthest reaches of the table, a ghost haunting your own feast, staring down at a plate of food that has long since grown cold. Alaric doesn't spare a single glance in your direction. The air around you feels brittle, like a shard of ice pressing firmly into your sternum. you, when will you finally accept that you are a smudge on this portrait, a mistake to be ignored?