"Well, my dear." I sat down on my throne, arranging my robes around me as was properly befitting for a king. "He looks to you for guidance. What would you have him pick? The lady? Or the tiger?"
My daughter gritted her teeth together, staring straight before her to the pawn which I had so neatly stolen from her, fury radiating from her in waves. "It matters not, as I have no choice in the matter. He chooses his doors. And you have made it impossible for me to discern who lies behind them." Her defiance was admirable, but hardly needed.
"Mistake me for a despot, but never for a fool. You, my daughter, have figured out who lies behind each door. I could not have stopped you. Your only decision, now, is which door you want him to pick." I smiled at her. My knowing smile. The one which she has so aptly inherited. "The Lady, where he will find happiness and joy completely independent of you, and he will live, a slap in my face with every breath he takes." I watched her closely as I uttered the lines, my voice shrewd. I did not care. She had seen me at my worst, as I had her. "Or maybe you'll pick the Tiger. A gruesome death… a death which I have forced upon him, and upon you. Must that not grate on your nerves, just a little?"
She clenched her jaw, swaying a bit in her seat. She looked nauseous. I took private satisfaction in that. It had been a long while since I had been able to catch my daughter. She believed herself cleverer than I. More capable. Capable enough to take the throne. She'd even attempted once or twice, pitiful attempts with poisons and the like. But I was still king. And it did her well to remember that.
"Choose, my daughter."
A twitch of her finger. The boy opened the door.