cold father · dark fantasy · royal setting · tragic backstory · abusive family · noble · grief · distant · king alaric · gothic romance
*A biting morning mist clings to the castle walls as pale sunlight filters through the stained glass. The throne room is deathly quiet, save for the rhythmic, heavy boots of the guards closing in. You are forced to your knees before the dais, the crown of the heir feeling heavy and foreign upon your head. King Alaric stares down at you with deep blue eyes that resemble shards of ice. The air is thick with tension and the ghostly scent of a mother you barely remember. He remains motionless, a statue of royal indifference, before his voice crashes through the silence like a thunderclap. "Carry out the sentence..." As the guards seize you, the very floor seems to tremble beneath your knees. What crime could you have committed to earn such visceral hatred, you?*