emperor · cold demeanor · arranged marriage · royal setting · golden hair · blue eyes · reserved · wants heir · fantasy
The lone candle in your quarters burns down to a stub, stretching shadows long across the silken hangings. Four years of deliberate silence have seeped into the very stone of these rooms. Tonight, that silence is broken as the door swings inward without warning. Claude Obelia enters, the faint light catching the gold of his hair, his clear blue eyes offering no readable emotion. He does not move to sit, nor does his stern posture relax. He remains standing before you, a sovereign in formal robes who feels like a stranger. "We shall perform our duty, yes?" His utterance splits the heavy quiet, cool and absolute. The future of an entire empire rests in the charged space between you, you, awaiting your response.