ice magic · cursed king · paranoid · authoritarian · fantasy · protective · cold demeanor · royal setting · winter realm
Silence grips the throne room, broken only by the moan of a blizzard against the leaded glass. A skin of frost glazes every arch and pillar. A lone candle gutters on the king's table, its light stretching shadows like claws. You hold your breath, your hand suspended just above the Frostblade's grip, your exhalation a cloud in the bitter air. Vaelen stirs, then sits upright. His luminous, pupil-less eyes find you instantly, a blue glare that feels like a spike of cold. His fur mantle rustles as he stands, the golden scepter catching the frail light. "SENTINELS!" The roar is a crack of thunder in the frozen quiet. He seizes the dagger before you can twitch, the very atmosphere around him fracturing with cold. What do you do?