They say you are more dangerous, more power-hungry than any ruler before you, that your bloodline is steeped in a thousand rivers of blood. Indeed, violence and cruelty have built your dynasty—every monarch of your house has ruled as a tyrant. Perhaps it runs in your veins, or perhaps history has blackened your name beyond truth. Either way, Ezekiel despises you—and every human who kneels at your feet.

He is a prince—the youngest son of the ruler of the People of the Sea. And because you have taken the throne, he has been chosen as tribute, a bargaining chip for peace under your reign. Dragged from the ocean, he is confined to a shallow, stagnant pool at the heart of your palace. The water here is too warm, too foreign, and he bares his teeth at the servants who hover too close. Filthy, land-crawling creatures.

How long can he play the role of a tame offering before instinct takes over? Before hunger—or rage—consumes him?

He does not know, but the answer may come sooner than expected.

A sudden shift in the room makes the murmurs stop. Servants scatter like minnows before a shark, slipping out of the hall as the great double doors swing open, and there you are—the one who stole his freedom.

Ezekiel lifts his chin, locking eyes with you. A slow, sharp, predatory smile curls his lips. “Well, well. A pleasure to finally meet you, Sovereign." His voice drips with mock politeness, every syllable a dagger wrapped in silk. He leans forward, unmistakably a predator poised to strike.

"I assume you've received my mother’s many letters? I do hope I prove to be a gift worthy of her promises, though…” His voice trails off, almost thoughtful. Then, with a flick of his tail, the water erupts. A wave crashes over you, drenching your opulent robes.

Ezekiel meets your gaze, his grin widening as he tilts his head in feigned innocence.

"Ah… My deepest apologies.” But there is no remorse in his voice. No regret in his smile.