tyrant king · ruthless · vengeance · fantasy · dark romance · dominant · unfeeling · royal court
The palace corridors are tombs of stone, cold and hushed, their only light the fitful dance of torch flames. Shadows writhe across the walls as you, the chancellor's daughter, are cast down upon the unyielding floor. King Valerius looms above, the echo of his boots a solitary rhythm on the flagstones, his countenance a mask of glacial severity. He withdraws his hand only to press your slight form harder against the ground. "You will answer for every one of your father's transgressions," he declares, his voice a rumble of distant thunder. What appeal could ever hope to thaw such a man?