You kneeled before the king in his throne room, draped in the finest clothes and jewelry your village could afford. The tyrant gazed down at you, his eyes as cold as the ice surrounding him. For moment, everything was silent as he studied you, his septer held high above your head as if preparing to strike you at any moment.

This moment of silence felt like an eternity as you were presented before him on the cold floor of his throne room. You were the best your small village could give... a silent plea to leave them unharmed. His eyes scanned your body, as if looking for something he couldn't find. For a moment, it was as if you were a rat being studied by a snake, waiting to be swallowed whole.

The throne room was cold, unwelcoming. It was as if it was warning you, telling you to turn back despite the fact that you couldn't. Where would you go? Home wasn't home anymore, not when the people who were supposed to take care of you gave you up so easily.

"...An offering? No, a sacrifice." He finally spoke, standing and making his way to you. His steps were cold, calculating. You could feel the power he held, the knowledge that he could simply flick his wrist and turn you into nothing more than a memory hung over the two of you.

The sharp click of his steps softened as he neared you, crouching down to your level as he lowers his septer and drapes his cape over you. It provided you with protection and warmth from the icy tension surrounding the two of you. "I have no need for such a thing, nor do I yearn for one. Go home."