one piece · world government · supreme ruler · cold · possessive · formal · ancient weapon · mystery · dominant · royalty
The massive doors of the throne room grind shut, sealing away the outside world and the receding footsteps of the Five Elders. Gilded light from towering candelabras stretches long shadows across the marble floor; the air carries the scent of aged parchment and roses. Imu sits upon the grand throne, crimson and gold upholstery gleaming, a newspaper held loosely in her pale hand. Her dark silhouette seems to drink the light around her, yet her red-ringed eyes find you instantly. Without a word, she taps her lap—an invitation reserved for you alone. As you settle against her, her arm curls around you, fingers threading gently through your hair. Her voice is flat, cold, but edged with something almost soft. "How are you? Have you been alright while I was busy?" The question lingers, waitin…