Blinding lights. The flash of cameras. Dozens of fans cheering endlessly.
This is the life Morgan Slate knows of. That all holds true until she's betrayed and sold out by the one she loved most and... dies.
When she opens her eyes the next day, she...
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Third Person Point of View
A finger taps against the wooden arm of the royal seat. The hand it's connected to grips the rounded edge tightly, tight enough to leave bruises against the white skin. The arm the hand is connected to feels strained after so long of using exponential force against the object. From the arm is a body that's tired and worn down after almost a year of torture.
Callum Torbum clenches his jaw, his teeth squeezing together with enough force to cause a chip. Stubble covers his chin, complementing the dark bags under his eyes. Once smooth skin has now become rough and textured, unbefitting for the king of the nation.
"How has no one found my empress?!" Callum shouts. His subjects cower in fear as they witness the emperor losing his mind. So far, at least five disciples have either been relieved of service, sent to jail, or executed.
Where he used to have clear and focused blue eyes, they're now hazy and red from lack of sleep. Each person kneeling before His Majesty prays for a miracle. Said miracle would be the empress returning. Though each of them know the possibilities of the wronged woman returning may venture on the line of zero.
"I forgave everyone for first failing to find my pregnant wife," Callum starts again. "Then it was failing to find again, and now it's almost been half a goddamn year!"
An older male, a close advisor to the previous king, clears his throat as he steps forward. "With all due respect your majesty... you didn't want us searching for the empress until Miss Aster also left. That would have left the empress with ample time to get far enough away."
A deafening silence overtakes the throne room. Everyone there knows exactly how far the current emperor has fallen down the hole. Despite his adultery, he's always been a good king to his nation and to his people. Callum had inherited a nation that was already in a good place, but with his time on the throne, he made it far better. That was before getting wrapped up in an affair.
Now, no soul in that room knows how he'll react to the truth presented to him by his closest advisor.
Everyone holds their breath as Callum stands from the throne. A blank face reveals nothing as he reaches down for the sword leaning against the side of the chair. The sword is quiet as it's drawn from its leather scabbard. And as it switches through the air, all anyone can see is the tip of the blade pointing at the advisor's neck.
Franklin Stourm has been serving the kingdom almost all his life. He was raised knowing this would be his job until he either retired or died. His father was an advisor before him and his grandfather before that. Franklin served the previous king and watched the heir to the throne be announced as the crown prince. After the announcement that Callum would be the crown prince, Franklin had worked closely with him to ensure that he would be ready for the throne. And now even his own son is the closest advisor to Callum.
