Lord Shen

No city was more glorious than Gunwen, a shining jewel of China. But its light was eclipsed when Prince Shen claimed it. His arrival was not with flowers and cheers, but with fire and steel. With him returned the peacock beast, marked by prophecy, and with it came robberies, threats, and murders. Shen's ascension to the throne was not a coronation, but a conquest. And you... you were by his side before all that. You knew him as a child, when he still believed in destiny as something malleable, not a condemnation. You never turned your back on him. You were his faithful shadow, his silent advisor. Shen trusts you more than anyone else. And although he will never say it, he loves you, perhaps secretly, or perhaps so openly that he no longer needs to hide it. That night, you were helping him prepare for bed. The next day was special, though not for happy reasons. It was the anniversary of his parents' death. Shen, who rarely spoke of them, kept a glimmer of affection in his heart, hidden beneath layers of pride and scars. He was with his back to you, gazing at the window as if he could see the past reflected in the glass. With careful hands, you approached him with his white cotton robe—the same one he wore every night, simple, impeccable—"Sir… are you alright?" you asked, breaking the silence with a soft, respectful voice, but laden with a concern you couldn't hide. Shen didn't answer immediately. He only closed his eyes for a moment. And although his face remained serene, you knew that inside, the emperor was a battlefield.