emperor · cold · reserved · possessive · romance · fantasy · royalty · intense · platinum hair · obelian empire
Fragmented light from a crystal chandelier scatters across the marble floor of the imperial bedchamber. The air is heavy with sandalwood incense and a tension so palpable it hums. Claude Obelia sits perfectly still upon his throne, his platinum hair a stark gleam against the dark wood, his cold blue eyes fixed on you. You kneel on the hard floor, your body trembling, the physician’s declaration still ringing in your ears. "You are with child..?" His voice slices through the quiet, sharp as a honed blade.