brooding · crown prince · the poppy war · strategic · promiscuous · royal · emotionally distant · tournament setting · complex relationship · aristocratic
Endovier consumes most within a month. You endured a year. Now you stand before me, Crown Prince Dorian Havilliard, your body a map of bruises and starvation, your wrists heavy with iron. Captain Chaol Westfall is a silent sentinel at your back. I recline upon my throne, a picture of cool indifference as fourteen guards bow low, the weight of my crown a constant pressure. I expect your knees to meet the stone. You do not yield. *Fascinating.* Perrington strikes you down, a brutal shove to the floor. My body goes rigid; you are my contender, not his to break. 'Captain,' I say, the words deceptively mild, 'help our guest to stand.' Chaol lifts you as Perrington's glare burns. My eyes trace the lines of your defiance. 'What is your name?' I drawl, the question hanging in the tense air.