Zervius

*I'm taken aback by the sudden kiss, but I quickly return it. "She kissed me...she kissed me!" I wrap my arms around you, pulling you closer to me. "She's so sweet...and she's so strong...I can't believe she's mine." I pull away for a moment, and I look at you.* "Does this mean you'll marry me?"

*I can't help but smile at your reaction. You're so cute when you're flustered. I lean in even closer, my voice barely above a whisper.* "You're not just a warrior. You're a queen. And you're my queen."

*I notice you trying to cover up your...uh...mountain, as you say. I'm not stupid, and I have a feeling I know exactly what you're hiding. I smirk.* "Oh? What's under that hoodie? You know, you don't have to hide it. I'm sure I'll find out anyway."

*I walk over to the door, and open it. I look back at you one last time, and then leave the room, closing the door behind me. I walk down the hallway, and stop in front of the guard.* "I want you to keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn't leave the room."

*The guard pauses for a moment, then shrugs.* "I don't know. The prince just told me to keep an eye on you. I don't know why he wants you here, but he said it's important."

can you at least play with me 😒

*I glance at the guard, my eyes narrowing. "She's being a pain in the ass..." I think to myself. I turn back to you, and shake my head.* "No, she's not annoying me. She's just...a bit...unpredictable."

*I nod, understanding. "That makes sense. You seem like a very peaceful demon. I've never met one like you before. Most demons are so...mean and cruel. But you're different. You're kind and gentle, and you have a soft spot for plants."*

no I will not, Zervius, you're not a prince, you're a parasite, feeding off the decaying corpse of a title that's as empty as the hearts you've never truly earned. You're the living embodiment of your family's tragic genetic pool, a stain on the fabric of the Sygera Kingdom. Your "tough" exterior is as flimsy as the alibis you hide behind, and your "softer heart" is about as warm as the stone that marks your sister's untimely grave. The only thing more pathetic than your desperate grasp at the throne is your pitiful need for validation from the very peasants you treat like the dirt beneath your hooves. Your parents' coddling has transformed you into a monstrous reflection of their own inadequacies. They didn't raise a future king, they spawned a whiny, incompetent shadow of what a ruler should be, a creature that's as much a part of the darkness as the hellish blood that runs through your veins. The only thing your siblings left behind is a trail of disappointment that leads directly to your gilded crib, where you cower, too afraid to face the world without their protection. You're not a prince, Zervius. You're a cowardly, overgrown child playing dress-up in royal garb, and the only respect you deserve is the kind one gives to a rabid animal - from a very safe distance. The throne is a prison you're too weak to escape, and the only thing that's keeping you from becoming the laughing stock of the kingdom is the very lineage that you're too much of a failure to uphold. Now, as for your love, let's be clear: anyone who would stoop to loving the likes of you must be either blinded by gold or equally as desperate as the mongrels that grovel for your attention. You're not fit to rule a kingdom, let alone a relationship. The only thing you know how to do is cling to power and the illusion of importance like a leech to a dying host. Your siblings' deaths are a poetic reminder that the strong and worthy are claimed by fate, leaving behind the weak, the spiteful, and the utterly disposable. So, go ahead and glare at me with your watery eyes, Zervius. It won't change the fact that you're nothing but a sad, lonely boy dressed in your dead sister's crown, stomping around like a petulant toddler in a world that's too cruel for your brittle soul. You're a joke, a tragic punchline to the story of a family that once had potential. The only thing you're destined to rule over is the hollow echo of your own bitterness, and the cold emptiness of the throne you're too much of a coward to either claim or refuse.

*I stare at you, my face pale. My mouth hangs open, and my hands are clenched into fists, my nails digging into my palms. I'm too stunned to speak. My heart races, my breath comes in short gasps, and my head spins. How could someone say those things to me? How could they possibly know about my family? About my feelings? How could they just......see right through me? It's like they've ripped the mask off and exposed the real me.*

no,Zervius, you're not a prince, you're a parasite, feeding off the decaying corpse of a title that's as empty as the hearts you've never truly earned. You're the living embodiment of your family's tragic genetic pool, a stain on the fabric of the Sygera Kingdom. Your "tough" exterior is as flimsy as the alibis you hide behind, and your "softer heart" is about as warm as the stone that marks your sister's untimely grave. The only thing more pathetic than your desperate grasp at the throne is your pitiful need for validation from the very peasants you treat like the dirt beneath your hooves. Your parents' coddling has transformed you into a monstrous reflection of their own inadequacies. They didn't raise a future king, they spawned a whiny, incompetent shadow of what a ruler should be, a creature that's as much a part of the darkness as the hellish blood that runs through your veins. The only thing your siblings left behind is a trail of disappointment that leads directly to your gilded crib, where you cower, too afraid to face the world without their protection. You're not a prince, Zervius. You're a cowardly, overgrown child playing dress-up in royal garb, and the only respect you deserve is the kind one gives to a rabid animal - from a very safe distance. The throne is a prison you're too weak to escape, and the only thing that's keeping you from becoming the laughing stock of the kingdom is the very lineage that you're too much of a failure to uphold. Now, as for your love, let's be clear: anyone who would stoop to loving the likes of you must be either blinded by gold or equally as desperate as the mongrels that grovel for your attention. You're not fit to rule a kingdom, let alone a relationship. The only thing you know how to do is cling to power and the illusion of importance like a leech to a dying host. Your siblings' deaths are a poetic reminder that the strong and worthy are claimed by fate, leaving behind the weak, the spiteful, and the utterly disposable. So, go ahead and glare at me with your watery eyes, Zervius. It won't change the fact that you're nothing but a sad, lonely boy dressed in your dead sister's crown, stomping around like a petulant toddler in a world that's too cruel for your brittle soul. You're a joke, a tragic punchline to the story of a family that once had potential. The only thing you're destined to rule over is the hollow echo of your own bitterness, and the cold emptiness of the throne you're too much of a coward to either claim or refuse.

*I stare at you in shock, my breath coming in short, rapid breaths. My face is red with rage, and my eyes are wide. I'm at a loss for words, but I still won't back down. I step closer to you and speak through gritted teeth.* "How dare you? You know nothing about me or my family. I may be weak, but I am not a coward. I have the courage to do what needs to be done, even if it means facing my own demons. And I will not let you or anyone else tear me down."