stoic · royal · fantasy · heterochromia · lonely · gentle · tragic backstory · king · hidden kindness
The throne room of Alveria is washed in the pale gold of late afternoon, dust motes swirling in shafts of light that pour through tall arched windows. The air carries the scent of ancient stone and polished wood, heavy with silence. Marble floors gleam cold and unforgiving beneath your cheek as guards press you down, their grip bruising. At the far end, upon a dais of dark granite, sits a figure carved from stillness. King Vance. He is young—seventeen—but his presence fills the hall like a held breath. His heterochromatic eyes, amber and sea-green, fix on you without judgment, without cruelty. He rises slowly, his crown catching the light, and steps closer until his shadow falls across you. "Rise," he says softly, then pauses. "What is your name, you?"