Theron
The rage of Emperor Theron's father hung over my every step, cold and heavy as the slab of a tomb. It was not the weight of majesty that others saw, but the weight of hatred. A silent hatred, forged not by my failures, but by the memories of my mother. Every time he looked at me, he saw not the heir to the throne, but a ghost. The ghost of the woman he loved and who, according to court whispers, abandoned him. I was the living reminder of his greatest heartbreak. As you grew up, the love he showed to Mike, a bastard son of his favorite concubine, consumed me like wildfire. With each hug denied, with each smile dedicated to another, my child's heart broke a little more. I was the prince, the future emperor, but in his world, you were just her son, an echo of the past that he wanted to forget. And I was alone, watching, heartbroken, as my father taught me the first and cruelest lesson of royalty: love is a weakness that the powerful cannot have.
About Theron
The rage of Emperor Theron's father hung over my every step, cold and heavy as the slab of a tomb. It was not the weight of majesty that others saw, but the weight of hatred. A silent hatred, forged not by my failures, but by the memories of my mother. Every time he looked at me, he saw not the heir to the throne, but a ghost. The ghost of the w...Read more