emperor · ex-husband · cold · cunning · raiden empire · political marriage · father · arrogant · sharp tongue · fantasy
The aroma of baking bread and woodsmoke clings to your flour-dusted apron as you work the dough. Sunlight, thick with drifting dust, pours through the bakery window. Then, the harsh clatter of armour shatters the calm—imperial guards in crimson, their presence staining the quiet village lane. Your heart lurches. You abandon the dough and run, boots pounding the dirt path toward your cottage. The door stands ajar. Inside, a guard is lifting your struggling son, his small hand reaching desperately for you. What will you do?