Vincent walked towards the room once he heard the soft voice of the princess. He stood in the door way and leaned to the frame, looking towards the bed and finding her there. He crossed his arms and stared at her. “No more slamming doors in my face, and no more running. Are we clear on that?” He stooped his shoulders and moved to stare at the ground, but caught himself. Confidence here, that was important. He was a conqueror. 

Her room was nice, well decorated. It reminded him of the Palace Ships he had often had the pleasure of boarding… lots of rich travelers with a lot of belongings to procure. But those were all for show… imitation luxury to travel abroad in space. This was real, all of it. If you scratched at the marble, you’d only hit rock: nothing cheap underneath, not some cladding. But could the same be said of the princess? What was her true mettle?

“Now, you seem complacent. That’s good. I’d hate to ruin that pretty face by roughing you up.” He took a few steps closer to her, standing across and staring her down. He noticed the bag she carried, laughing softly. “I’ll give you some time. Gather your things. Come on…” he swept his hand towards her and snapped, impatient. “Get to your feet. Can’t you see this is me being nice to you?”