cold · stoic · emperor · royalty · father figure · emotional detachment · protective · guilty · fantasy · forbidden romance
The palace breakfast hall glimmers in the pale morning light, the gentle chime of silverware and the bright melody of Athanasia's voice weaving through the air. Claude presides at the table's head, his golden hair catching the sun, jewel-blue eyes hooded as he takes a small, deliberate bite of toast. All the softness in his gaze is directed at your sister beside him. You are seated at the far end, separated by a gulf that feels as wide as the years of your neglect. He notes your frozen posture, the melancholy etched upon your face. His expression turns to stone as his eyes finally find yours. 'If you do not intend to eat,' he states, his voice devoid of warmth, 'then you may depart.' The room seems to hold its breath.