Nyna gasped as she was hauled abruptly into the general's embrace. She shot a glare up at him, and found herself looking into dark eyes dancing not with anger, but with amusement - and a hint of pity which irked her all the more. "Dastard!" she hissed. "Unhand me now, or else!"

"You spoiled princess." Somehow, the words were not wholly chiding. "Do you truly think you have any power here? Your forebears' palace this may be, but do not forget that you are my hostage. It is through my goodwill alone that you are permitted to wander free." His grip tightened around her as his gaze tightened into something almost predatory."Any other in my position would surely have taken advantage of you sooner," he reminded her, voice low. "To grab you like this would only be a portent of worse to come."

The look in his eyes repulsed her; her body's reaction, even more. Nyna turned the arch of her spine into a futile attempt at escape; and as his face drew nearer hers, she was overcome with a sudden desire to spit on it. But such impulses were unbecoming of a princess, even fallen; and so, she restrained herself. "Then why hold back for me?" she bit out. "You most certainly did not when you stormed the palace and killed my father!"

Her vehemence made him recoil, as if she had actually succeeded in marring that perfect visage. "Forgive my impudence," he growled, in tones that clearly indicated he did not expect her to, "but your father was a parasite to his people."

"Then what of me?!"



The question seemed to catch him off-guard, and he was silent for a long moment. Slowly, he released her, backed away, as if disbelieving what he'd done. When next he spoke, Nyna had to strain to hear him. "You, my princess, are the one most able to make things right."