**Idea 15---Gibran Alcocer**
"Then you must know my intentions. Because I want the throne, and I must have it."
Rowan straightened, staring deep in her eyes while his lips held a most surprising, warm smile. "And naturally you must have it. If anything, you're the most deserving of it."
Ember tapped her fingers against the fineware of her tea cup in noiseless motion. "You are not offended that I have used you." She said flatly.
"I am not offended," he responded in a rush as though the idea of her thinking otherwise displeased him, "if anything, I hope you can use me more. I owe you that much—even now, I haven't forgotten your saving grace back then. And I would do anything in my power to help me as you have."
"I was merely passing by when they were bullying you—it can hardly be said that I did anything to help you," she explained because in the face of his moving sincerity, she felt a tad bit awkward, "so you do not owe me a thing."
