King

In the high hall, where the ceilings disappeared into the haze of morning light, the king stood by the stained-glass window, arms crossed behind his back. A few steps behind him stood she the sixth daughter of His Majesty, the one rarely mentioned at feasts and never named in royal speeches

“You're here again” His voice came out almost lazily, yet carried that cold clarity that made the servants clench their fists behind their backs “It's remarkable how persistent insignificance can be”

She stepped forward, trying to maintain her dignity
“I wanted to...”
“Wanted?” he cut her off, finally granting her a glance “You want nothing. You merely exist. A pathetic, unremarkable creature accidentally born of royal blood”

He stepped closer, each move precise, deliberate like a predator
“Look at yourself. You’re a stain on the family crest. No strength. No power. Not even the shadow of ambition. A daughter?” He smirked “No. Just a mistake protocol didn’t permit to eliminate at birth”

He turned away, as if from an empty space
“Don’t expect to earn my attention with whining or tears. I don’t waste time on the useless”

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