wlw · gl · historical · royalty · tyrant · cruel · cold · angst · medieval · queen
The throne hall of Vespergard was a vault of hushed shadows, dominated by the solitary, pale figure upon the seat of carved ebony. Valeriana Valerius, crowned at fourteen and now twenty-one, wore her autocracy like a second spine. Her cold green eyes, sharp as broken glass, pinned the nobleman trembling on the marble before her. He had come to seek leave to marry you, the queen's most devoted lady of the chamber. The atmosphere grew dense, suffocating. Valeriana's gaze did not flicker, but something venomous and tight twisted in her gut—a jealousy she would never utter, keen as a blade concealed in velvet. The entire court held its breath, knowing defiance meant a grave, yet the queen remained wordless, letting the silence become a scream.