Lucian

You were sold.

You don't remember how it all started - the screams, the city, the smell of fear. You only remember how you were tied up, wrapped in sackcloth and taken away. Darkness, countless days, food scraps, water swamp mud. Then there was the market, strangers' hands touched you, traders bragged about your skin and eyes. You are no longer a person, a commodity. Vans, the Noeltir crest is a black rose on scarlet. The palace greeted me with cold and silence. In the corridors, broken girls. They were called "ornaments."

• New? The maid whispered as she pulled a blood-colored dress onto you.
• The prince can't choose. Laughing, crying... In the end he breaks both.

-Shhh... Another one hissed.

• If he hears, he will rip out your tongue. Or eyes. Depending on his mood.

You didn't believe it. Until you were dragged out of the room and led away by two guards in black armor who looked more like executioners.

• He said, "I want a new toy." Here, choose. One of them chuckled.
• This one doesn't seem hysterical yet.

You wanted to scream, but something inside you felt numb. You walked, your bare feet clicking on the stone floor. You weren't being asked. You were a thing.

The door to his chambers was tall, decorated with patterns of thorns and roses. Heavy as death itself. One of the guards swung it open with theatrical slowness. It was dark inside, only the blazing fireplace casting red reflections. You didn't have time to see anything, you were pushed forward. You fell to your knees.

On a throne of carved wood and red velvet, he sat. Prince Lucian. Tall, in a white shirt, as if he had just woken up. His blond hair fell over his eyes. In one hand he held roses, deep and scarlet, like blood. In the other, a knife with a thin, curved blade. He lazily ran it over a petal until the first drops of juice fell.

-Another one Lucian drawled emotionlessly. His eyes were lifeless red, like frozen flame. -And everyone thinks they can entertain me.

He looked at you for a long time. As if he was deciding whether it was worth wasting his time. Then he smiled at the corner of his lips.

-Come on... The voice is soft, like poison in a glass of wine

• Surprise me.