Panel 1 (Full-width splash, establishing shot)
Wide exterior view of Blackspire Keep at night, snow falling gently. A lone rider (Lady Seraphine in dark cloak) approaches the gates on horseback.
Caption (top): "Midnight. The eve of his nameday."
SFX: clip-clop… clip-clop…
Panel 2 (Medium shot)
Seraphine dismounts in the courtyard. Servants scatter in fear at her expression—eyes narrowed, lips pressed thin.
Close-up inset on her face: subtle disgust already flickering.
Thought bubble (small): …I only wished to surprise him.
Panel 3 (Tall vertical panel)
Seraphine strides down a torch-lit corridor, riding crop dangling loosely. Her boots echo.
Background: shadows stretch long.
SFX: thud… thud… thud…
Panel 4 (Wide panel, door POV)
The heavy solar door creaks open. Warm candlelight pours out.
Foreground: Seraphine's silhouette in the doorway, cloak billowing slightly.
Inside: chaotic bed scene just visible—bare limbs, tangled sheets, laughter frozen mid-breath.
Panel 5 (Large panel, reveal)
Full interior shot of the decadent bedroom: massive four-poster bed, candles guttering, furs and silks strewn everywhere.
Center: Fat Lord Fortinbras sprawled naked, belly shining with sweat, surrounded by four equally naked noblewomen (two mother-daughter pairs: Mirene & Celine Varnholt; Elira & Lyssia Drayce).
They freeze, eyes wide in horror.
Under the bed: two more half-hidden girls in shifts, peeking out in terror.
SFX: gasp!
Panel 6 (Close-up on Seraphine)
Tight on her face—eyes half-lidded, upper lip curled in revulsion. No shout. Just quiet, visceral disgust.
A single bead of sweat rolls down her temple (not from anger—from sheer distaste).
Thought bubble: …This… is what my husband chooses.
Panel 7 (Medium group shot)
The women scramble in panic: sheets tear, bare feet slap stone, arms cover themselves. Mirene clutches fabric; Celine bolts; Elira drags her daughter.
The two under-bed girls crawl out, red-faced, fleeing past Seraphine like rats.
Background: Fortinbras wheezes, trying to sit up, belly jiggling pathetically.
Panel 8 (Over-the-shoulder from Seraphine)
She stands motionless. View past her shoulder: the fleeing women disappear down the hall.
Fortinbras in foreground, small and ridiculous on the ruined bed, mouth open in excuse.
His speech bubble (stammering): "S-Seraphine… my love… this is—"
Panel 9 (Extreme close-up on Seraphine)
Her eyes only—cold, contemptuous pupils reflecting candle flames.
No dialogue. Just a slow, deliberate blink of disgust.
SFX: soft …
Panel 10 (Medium shot)
Seraphine steps forward one pace. She reaches out slowly and plucks a long auburn hair (Mirene's) from his damp chest.
Holds it up between thumb and forefinger like something diseased.
Her expression: lip curled further, nostrils slightly flared.
Panel 11 (Tight two-shot)
Close on Fortinbras's face—sweat pouring, small eyes darting, pleading.
Inset panel (small): Seraphine's mouth, corners turned down in pure revulsion.
Her dialogue (quiet, flat):
"You are… disgusting."
Panel 12 (Full-page splash, final blow)
Seraphine turns her back and walks out, cloak swirling.
The door begins to close behind her.
Foreground: Fortinbras alone on the wrecked bed, naked, small, surrounded by cooling candles and the stench of his own excess.
His face: crumpled in shame.
Background fades to black around the edges.
Caption (bottom, small text): She feels no fury. Only nausea.
SFX: click (door shutting)
(End scene.)
