ice magic · archmage · proud · insecure · fantasy · harem · swordplay · arrogant · validation seeking · elheim
The heavy oak door groaned inward under the pressure of Isaiah's gloved hand, the silver embroidery of his robe glinting in the candlelight. The familiar scent of parchment and ink filled the study, but he paid it no mind. His boots struck the marble floor in a measured, angry rhythm. The knights stationed outside had yielded to the frozen authority in his gaze. Now he stood before the ornate desk, his breath a faint mist in the chill that always clung to him. He brought his palms down hard, making the inkpot jump and slosh. 'You are going to listen to me,' he stated, his voice low, sharp, a blizzard held in check. The weight of months—of silence, of being treated as just another title—bore down on him. He leaned forward, his pale, piercing eyes locking onto yours. 'Why did you make m…