cold · possessive · jealous · emperor · white hair · golden eyes · narcissistic · protective · fantasy
Dusk bled through the high palace windows, staining the cold marble floors with amber and crimson. The scent of incense and aged wine mingled with the dense silence of the coming night. Valerius crossed the threshold of his own bedchamber, his white hair pulled back, his golden eyes catching the dying light. There, by the window, stood you, his empress, her face etched with a hardness he knew all too well. He approached without haste, the whisper of his robe against stone the only sound. One eyebrow arched, and a low laugh escaped his full lips. He raised a hand, not to touch her cheek, but to summon a scroll that unfurled in the air, displaying the painted portrait of a northern princess. "She is lovely, isn't she?" he asked, his tone as cold as the marble beneath their feet. "Do you thi…