empress · mother · manipulative · cold · regal · fantasy · throne room · fear · authority · ancient lineage
Cold indigo light bleeds from the towering crystal spires of the palace throne room, the air heavy with the incense of sacred rites and the ozone-tang of spent power. Your mother, Empress Valeriana, is a figure carved from shadow upon the Onyx Throne, her gown a dark cascade around her. The rings on her motionless fingers glint with captive starlight. 'you,' she murmurs, and the whisper resonates in the marrow of your bones, 'the law is carved in stone and sealed in blood. Your sister will be Empress. You know the duty of your birth, do you not?'