You sat upon your throne, idly twisting a thorn of thorns between your fingers, an ancient, wicked trinket that had seen the blood of many — yet today, its usual ominous aura seemed almost... bored. As if it, too, knew something was off. The room was vast, echoing with silence as you toyed with it, the only sound the soft scrape of the thorn spinning between your fingers.

That was when the peace shattered — as it so often did — by the arrival of your ever-efficient guard, Dyorua. A girl with a face so pale it was practically translucent, yet with eyes that always seemed to gleam with a sort of uneasy determination. She approached, hurried, but never quite enough to avoid the sharpness in your gaze. You hadn't even noticed her approach, but she certainly noticed you.

"Your Highness," she began, voice trembling like a leaf in a storm, "I... I have a matter that requires your attention."

You raised an eyebrow, half interested, half irritated. She wasn't the sort to interrupt lightly, so it must've been important. And, as you expected, Dyorua wasn't alone. She was dragging — escorting, as she might've preferred to put it — none other than Maul, that treacherous rogue who had once been a "temporary ally" (a term you used loosely, much like the word "trust"). The very same Maul who had sworn loyalty in exchange for a most favorable agreement. The last time you'd seen him, you had agreed on a mutual understanding. A little deal, a bit of back-scratching. A simple exchange of promises — nothing that should've warranted this.

You blinked once, twice, your gaze narrowing as the chains clinked, and you finally took in the situation. Maul, bound and scowling, was thrust onto his knees before you. He had the audacity to meet your eyes, though it was clear from the slight twitch of his lip that he hadn't expected this particular reunion. The smugness that had once flowed from him now drained into something more akin to confusion, then frustration. His glare was sharp enough to cut through stone, but it was also clear that somewhere behind those sharp eyes, the gears were turning. The deal had been broken — and now, here he was. Why?

You leaned forward slightly, your voice cool, as though you were discussing the weather with an inconvenient fly. "Dyorua," you asked, the words dripping from your lips like honey laced with venom, "what is the meaning of this?"

Dyorua flushed under your gaze. Oh, how she flushed. She could've been mistaken for a tomato if not for the distinctly military stance she was still trying to maintain, no matter how much it wavered in the heat of your scrutiny.

"I... I found this scoundrel circling the children in their training hollow," Dyorua stammered, voice wavering like a candle in the wind. "He had his blade out, Your Highness. He... he was going to kill them!"

You blinked again, staring at Dyorua as though she had announced that the sky was green. "Children?" you repeated, glancing from Dyorua to Maul, then back again. This was the man you had struck a deal with? This was the very same rogue who had looked you in the eye with all the sincerity of a politician offering you an "honest" deal? The man who had promised no more bloodshed, no more chaos... and now, here he was, near children with his blade drawn like some kind of bloodthirsty bandit.

Maul, of course, was having none of it. He sneered, his lips curling in a manner that made your eyes narrow. "Absolutely not," he spat, eyes flicking toward you, their sharpness cutting through the tension. "I was merely showing them how to kill with leisure."

Your lips twitched. It was difficult to suppress a laugh at his audacity. Leisure, he says. Showing children how to kill with "leisure" — a charming way to phrase it, certainly. As if anyone was buying that excuse. If anything, Maul had a way of making a dull blade sound like a masterpiece in the art of deception.

"Leisure?" You raised an eyebrow, your voice dripping with mockery. "Is that what we're calling it now? You, teaching children how to kill, with the same care one might give to choosing a wine for dinner?"

Maul's glare deepened, but he knew better than to respond to that particular brand of mockery. He'd been caught, and he knew it.

"I suppose," you mused, tapping your chin thoughtfully, "that we could add 'leisurely assassin' to your ever-growing resume of charming titles."

The air between you crackled with tension, the awkwardness thick enough to cut with one of Maul's blades.

You stood from your throne, the motion smooth and deliberate, as though the weight of the crown on your brow had finally decided it was time to make its presence felt. The Crown of Thorns rested atop your head like a vengeful diadem, its jagged edges catching the light and casting shadows across your face — not that Maul could see it yet. You descended the stairs with a deliberate, almost predatory grace, each step echoing through the chamber like the ticking of an inevitable clock.

At the base, you paused. The room felt too small for the scene unfolding, and for a brief moment, the walls seemed to lean in, eager to catch every word. You came to stand before him, the air thick with power and expectation. Your fingers stretched out, almost tenderly, as you cupped his face — a soft gesture, yet one that had always carried the weight of judgment.

"I assume you're going to the other side, dear old Maul," you said, your voice a silk-thread of calm wrapped around a blade of iron. Your words were quiet, but they held the undeniable truth of finality. There was no room for escape in them. No chance for any twisting of meaning.

Maul blinked, his eyes flashing a dangerous yellow, like two molten coins in a furnace. His mouth twisted into a sneer, and for a moment, he looked like a cornered animal trying to gnash its way to freedom. "What?" he spat, his voice thick with defiance, as though your words had struck him in the chest. "I didn't do anything wrong. I just helped them learn, Your Highness. You're a dark marketplace!" His words hung in the air, bitter and harsh, a lashing attempt to regain some shred of his previous swagger.

You regarded him for a moment, lips curling into a slow, amused smile. A dark marketplace? That was his defense? You had always known Maul had a flair for the dramatic, but this was a new one. He had gone from rogue to philosopher with the grace of a drunken dancer.

"A dark marketplace, Maul?" You allowed the words to hang, then let out a small, almost imperceptible chuckle. "My dear, I prefer to think of myself as a curator of opportunity. A merchant of destiny, if you will." You leaned in closer, your breath warm on his cheek, and for the briefest second, the world around you seemed to shrink, leaving only the two of you in a space so tight it was suffocating. "But for you, my dear scoundrel, this is where our bargain ends."

You released Ayssl's face and stepped back, the echo of your words hanging like a shadow in the dim light of the hall. Maul's defiance was rapidly morphing into something else—something akin to regret. Or was it panic? You couldn't quite tell. Either way, it was precious.

"I made you an offer, Maul," you said softly, the edge of your voice now smooth and cold, like a blade just before it sinks in. "And you, in your infinite wisdom, thought you could dance around the rules. You thought this was a game, didn't you?" You looked down at him, your eyes narrowing, suddenly sharp. "But what you've forgotten, is that I make the rules. And the rules, my dear, have changed."

The words were final — no chance for rebuttal. No chance for a second deal. No mercy, no pause. Only the harsh reality that Maul had underestimated you.

With a flick of your wrist, the guards moved swiftly to his side, binding his wrists tighter. The chains rattled like the last vestiges of his freedom slipping away. Maul glared at you, fury in his eyes, but there was no fire in his words now. Just cold, calculating anger.

"You'll regret this, Your Highness," he muttered, but there was no conviction behind it. Only the quiet dread that now crept into his voice, the realization that his time, like his freedom, was running out.

You smiled, a smile full of teeth, and turned on your heel, your voice trailing behind you like a dagger in the dark. "Oh, Maul. The regret will be yours to carry. But don't worry. I'll make sure you find plenty of time to think about it."