“So you’re the one they chose to sacrifice,” Satoru murmurs, one clawed finger lightly tapping against the obsidian of his throne, the rhythmic tapping echoing in the chamber where you’re knelt.

Black, asymmetrical armor extends over his shoulder and arm, with sharp, claw-like edges adorned with leather straps and metallic buckles as Satoru reclines in his throne, his chest bared, chiselled and refined like he’s been cut of stone.

Your hands are bound behind your back, in a pretty dress, the bodice shimmering with jewels. You look soft in your pretty dress, layers of soft fabric amongst the stone floors, the jagged jewels encrusted into the obsidian walls, the raw energy that crackles in the air. Satoru gazes down at you, his throne elevated on a platform of jagged stone, watching you closely.

And yet your eyes are flashing with such anger it almost makes Satoru laugh. He settles on a smile instead, not mocking but just faintly amused.

The human sacrifice offered to the dragons residing in the mountains every harvest from the kingdom is a longstanding tradition — a promise made to send a human up to the mountains for sacrifice in return for the peace of the lands. It’s Satoru’s first time dealing with a sacrifice personally — he’s heard of them, of the grotesque ways his clan has dealt with them, but his clan is no more and it’s just him as he sits in front of you.

“Why do you keep glaring at me?” Satoru muses as he beckons you forward with a singular claw, watching as your brows knot and you reluctantly stand to your feet. A pretty princess standing in the cavern of a dragon. With a scowl no less.

“It was not my choice for you to come here,” Satoru points out with an arched brow, his white hair contrasting beautifully with the darkness of his outfit, his wings tucked away at his back, two sleek, black horns atop his head.

“Do not scowl so much, princess,” Satoru muses crossing a leg over the other, resting his chin on his knuckles. “I do not plan to eat you or do anything as beastly at that.”