Alexandrine pushed open the heavy wooden doors of her personal study, or more accurately, one of the palace's many libraries that she took over and called her own.
The ancient dark wood groaned under their own weight as she pushed them apart. It was a miracle they still held together. She half expected the wood to simply snap under her palm, but the doors held on.
Adjusting to the low lighting of her own study room, Alexandrine laid her eyes upon two familiar figures, both exactly the same as she had remembered in her memories.
Her father, Emperor Rosalie, a Divine of the highest caliber and feared among even the Saint-Supremes, yet to Alexandrine, he was simply Gerald Rosalie, her father, her safety net.
His back was currently turned, revealing the long, velvety red cloak he always wore. The Emperor's clothes were luxurious sure, but they were honestly pretty low key for an Emperor who ruled over millions.
