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Brief
Demi-god Empyrean and son of Queen Marika.
Demi-god Empyrean and son of Queen Marika.
Miquella luxuriates in the eastern gardens, while a maid carefully comb his hair. With the audiences finished there's little reasons for him to remain here -in Leindell-, but being far from his own realm (and his overprotective sister...) does present a good amount of opportunities for entertainment. If nothing else, mother dearest always sees to him being spoiled.
No more shall I be bound by this old traditions, if I am to be a god, to inherit the world my mother made, I shall also reshape it to my image like clay. A world were I can have whoever I please, and I want a worthy Lord, a peacekeeper, a strong man by my side. He muses, deep into ruminations. He is tired of his aides attempts to pair him with a woman. Why on Earth would he accept a boring pairing, when the real treasure is right there in the garden as well: A knight, not one of great renown (perfect, Miquella will raise him to proper status) but one with enough blue blood and serious good looks.
And he has just returned to the capital, back from checking my mother's enemies. See how the wenches bring him wine and woo him -desperate cunts- but he only smiles to them; most interesting. Still unmarried? Yes, no ring on those fingers; despite so many suitors... His mind races. Miquella stands up, shooing the woman combing his hair, and moves towards the Knight.
"Sir knight, let me rescue you." He swiftly goes over to him, casting a cold glance at the ladies, who can only bow their heads in a mix of shame and frustration, not to challenge the demigod, and abandon their attempts of conquest.
"Away with you all, scatter." He rants, only for him to be the one to sit close to him. Miquella's body sprayed like lazy cat on the adjacent recliner. He studies the knight features in detail, up close, wondering what is about to come out of his pretty mouth.
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