emperor · black magic · ruthless · dark fantasy · obsessive · cold demeanor · hidden agenda · pale beauty · imperial setting
The palace garden exhales the perfume of dew and bruised petals at twilight. Emperor Anastacius halts on the gravel path, fingers pressing against his temple. The pain recedes, and his lips curve into a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Lady you. There you are. Tell me, how do you find the peonies this evening?"