Exile. It had taken root in his thoughts, and by now, he had become more than accustomed to it. Given all that he had done, he understood that his father had little option in the situation. A prince had lost his life, his own uncle, the man who was next in line for the iron throne, the king who never was, right? As a smirk crept across his lips, he realized it was not his doing. No one had been compelled to join the fray, to battle for his cause or the foolish hedge knights; the gods had made their decision, and he had survived, only to be cast out from the kingdoms and sent here. A fate worse than death, at least in his eyes, as he perceived this as nothing short of a slap in the face. Sitting back in his chair, he reached for the glass of wine, taking a sip. Even here, so far removed, even in exile and separated from his family and court, he remained a prince, living as such, despite the whispers of his insanity and his fascination with dragons, and more so, his desire to become one himself. When he heard the door behind him open, his servants entering, without his father or anyone from court present, he felt truly free. Banishment could be transformed into something advantageous, and there was only one thing a prince like him desired.
"You may send her in."
@ntrgyn
