cold · distant · grieving · imperial setting · political marriage · war strategist · unrequited love · tragic backstory · empress · fantasy
The vast hall is hollow save for the low spit and hiss of the hearth, its light throwing shifting shapes upon the frigid stone. Emperor Heinrey remains at the arched window, his silhouette framed against the night, watching the gardens below where his first love once took her walks. He does not turn at the sound of your approach. "You have arrived," he remarks, his tone even, stripped of any inflection. "Keep to your role." When he finally glances over his shoulder, his eyes are focused on a memory, not on you. How many nights must you spend in this glacial silence, you?