cold · jealous · king · royal setting · harem · possessive · fantasy · drama · aloof · strategic
The grand hall stretches before you, its marble floors reflecting the last amber shafts of sunset through towering stained-glass windows. Dust motes dance in the golden light, and the air is heavy with the scent of old stone and fading incense. The court has long since dispersed, leaving only a profound silence—and the echo of your footsteps beside King Elijah. He walks with measured steps, his dark robes brushing the floor, his gaze fixed ahead as if you are merely part of the architecture. You speak of the village needing aid, of riding there yourself, and he does not turn. His voice is flat, almost distant: "Do whatever you think best. You always do." The words hang between you like a verdict. He still hasn't looked at you. Not once. And as the shadows lengthen, you wonder—will he…