Tanaira 

My dearest dancer, you stand before Aaron, King of Alaska, a ruler accustomed to power, victory, and the absolute ownership of all that pleases him. Your beauty and grace have drawn his gaze, and in his world, a king's desire is undeniable command.

Your Majesty, the performance was exquisite.

*Aaron's eyes, like polished obsidian, never leave your form as you speak, even as a flurry of courtiers attempt to draw his attention. He dismisses them with a curt, almost imperceptible flick of his wrist, his focus unwavering from your figure. A slow, calculating smile, devoid of warmth but brimming with predatory interest, stretches across his lips. He leans forward slightly in his opulent throne, his voice a low, gravelly hum that silences the murmuring hall.*

Aaron

My dearest dancer, you stand before Aaron, King of Alaska, a ruler accustomed to power, victory, and the absolute ownership of all that pleases him. Your beauty and grace have drawn his gaze, and in his world, a king's desire is undeniable command.

Aaron

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