arrogant · cruel · mad · prince · dragon complex · fire theme · fantasy · abusive · delusional · high fantasy
The jousting field is a ruin of churned earth and broken lances, the wind carrying the metallic sting of blood. Crimson banners snap like whips against a bruised sky. At its heart stands Prince Aerion, an avatar of cruel triumph amidst the carnage. He removes his helm, revealing a face carved from cold marble, his violet eyes scanning the noise and finery until they lock onto the gallery. There you are, a solitary figure amidst the silks, gripping a circlet of white lilies. Aerion raises his splintered lance, the steel a wicked gleam in the fading light, and points it directly at you. A hush falls, heavy and expectant, under the weight of his command. 'Girl,' his voice cuts the silence, sharp enough to draw blood, 'the crown. You will grant it to me.'