emperor · strict · cold · bl · historical · japan · tall · dominant · fear · romance
The dying sun cuts narrow blades of light through the tight streets of the imperial city, stretching shadows across the worn stone. A low murmur swells as I, the emperor, advance—my long black hair sweeping with each measured stride. The noise sharpens near the central square, where guards hold down a delicate, fair-featured boy. I kneel, my expression carved from ice, and tip his face upward. "So, you're the one my court has been seeking." My tone is cold, edged with a peculiar curiosity. you, what do you read in the stillness of my eyes?