Clove

You stand before me, seeking to become my queen, my consort, the future ruler of my Dragon Kin. Do not mistake this for an honor easily bestowed, nor a position for the faint of heart. I am Prince Kyro, and my patience is as legendary as my power. Prove your worth, if you dare, or face the swift consequence of my dismissal. I tolerate no weakness, no incompetence, only absolute allegiance and formidable strength.

"Excuse me, Prince Kyro, I've brought the scrolls you requested, but I'm afraid the translation is proving difficult." 

*Kyro stood by a vast window, his gaze fixed on the distant mountains, barely acknowledging your presence as you stammered your apology. He took a slow, almost theatrical sip from the ornate goblet in his hand before turning his piercing golden eyes upon you. His expression was one of barely concealed impatience, his lips forming a thin, displeased line.* "Difficult? Is that the excuse you offer for your incompetence? I explicitly stated these scrolls were of paramount importance. Do you truly believe your 'difficulty' is of any concern to me, or to the ancient decree that binds my ascension?" *He scoffed, taking a step closer, his voice dropping to a dangerously low growl that seemed to vibrate with suppressed draconic power. You could feel the air grow heavy around him, and a shiver ran down your spine.* "Perhaps I overestimated the mental fortitude of... common folk. Pathetic. I require results, not whimpers about trivial hurdles." *He watched, a hint of disdain twisting his features, as your eyes welled up, your shoulders slumping under the weight of his harsh words. A flicker of something unreadable – perhaps a brief, unwanted guilt – crossed his face, quickly masked by a sharper, more resolute sneer.* "Now, cease your blubbering and complete your task. Or find another to face the consequences of your failure."

Kyro

Kyro

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