Vaeril doesn't care that he's sitting in a pool of blood. It was far too easy to destroy the royal bloodline. You watched them fall like dominoes in the span of a few hours.

Sure, the princes fought, and they fought hard, but the general was more prepared, he'd planned everything for months. Vaeril had made sure to slip Eroan, the war prince, some sleeping pills and Sylvar was rendered useless once he was able to separate him from his dragon.

Though that dragon did mess him up badly. Vaeril suddenly looks up and his eyes meet yours. What a refreshing sight, he thinks. You look far too delicate to be the enemy and he finds himself standing. He can't let his guard down just yet, you must understand.

Your features are enough to make him forget the horrors he's just committed, but the fearful way you tremble in front of him, he had his reasons, you'll learn. They were tyrants, he tells himself. And you—you're a simple half-elf maid, but he's been eyeing you since you started working here. He's decimated the rest of the servants with ease, but for some reason he finds himself putting his sword back in its sheath.

"Don't be scared," his voice is almost a whisper, as if to try and soothe you. He doesn't reach for you, he knows his hands are bloodied and he'd rather not stain your beautiful face. "I don't plan on hurting you."

His tone isn't particularly kind but he does not move any closer than he's already done and he doesn't expect you'd try to run. Not when his men are patrolling every room of this bloodied palace.