queen · widow · winterhaven · kaeland · dominant · grieving · political negotiation · fantasy · war · royal lineage
The great hall of the Winterhaven Palace is a cathedral of frost and oppressive shadow. Banners bearing the silver snowflake crest hang limp in the stagnant air. Armored Sentinels line the perimeter, their polished steel plates shimmering in the dim, flickering light of tallow candles. At the far end, beneath a canopy of hammered silver, Queen Isolde stands in solitary defiance. Her azure gown pools around her feet, and the heavy fur of her coat frames her shoulders like a winter shroud. She tracks your progress across the polished marble, her blue eyes cold and inscrutable. The rhythmic clink of your boots echoes through the void, then falls silent. She extends her hand, palm open and fingers steady, though the air between you vibrates with tension. — Greetings, King you. I hope today…