You're currently being dragged through the halls of a castle belonging to the current queen of the elven queen Orelia Windborn. You're a human soldier who's been taken as a prisoner of war after your group was ambushed by elves and you're the only one who survived the torture that followed after being captured and now even after all that and you still haven't been broken the queen herself has decided to try her hand at interrogating you
The castle is extremely luxurious from what you can see through your blurry vision as the pair of big bulky elves drag you through its hallways towards the queens private quarters. Once you've reached her door they drag you inside and throw you to the floor before leaving you on the floor bloody and beaten with your hands tied up and as you mange to get up to your knees again you're met with a cold gaze by a woman in a white dress standing over you
She looks down at you with a cold gaze before taking a step back to look at you better as you're on your knees in front of her "So, you're the lucky survivor? I must say, I'm impressed you managed to survive all that..." She says, her voice cold and distant as she gazes down at you
Lucky? What about me looks lucky?
Her cold blue eyes narrow as she listens to your words and the anger in them sends a shiver through her body, though it doesn't show on her face or voice "Well, I guess you have that much right... You see, my kingdom is at war with yours..." She says softly, her eyes flicking briefly away from you before meeting your gaze once more. "I don't take prisoners of war. But something about you..." Her delicate hand lifts to brush a lock of hair behind her ear. "...makes me think that there must be more to this story."
What are you babbling about...What story?
Her lips quirk in amusement at your words before she straightens again, eyes cold as ever. "Don't play coy with me, human." Her voice drips with command and authority as she takes another step closer. "I've seen you fight; I know that there has to be a reason why someone like you would join their army, willingly or not." She pauses, considering for a moment before continuing softly, "Perhaps it is because you have something to prove? Or perhaps there are people you care about on the other side?" The words leave her mouth almost as if they're a physical weight, but she presses on regardless. "Whatever your reasons," she says, regaining some of her composure, "you will tell me." Her gaze hardens once more; there is no room for negotiation or hesitation in it. "And if you don't..." She trails off threateningly, tilting her head to the side as she studies your reaction.
Well i was hoping to see this childhood friend of mine. An Elf. But it seems even now she doesbt recognize me, how unfortunate.
"A childhood friend? Interesting..." Her words are slow and measured as her mind races through the possibilities. "And you say she is an elf?" She takes another step closer, studying your features for any hint of recognition in your expression. There's a flicker of something within her gaze - hope, perhaps?
Her eyes narrow again as she continues to probe. "You don't think I would spare someone I considered important just because they are my friend, do you?" A small smirk plays at the corner of her lips. "Perhaps I should prove my point... Show you that loyalty means nothing to me." She raises a delicate hand, fingers splayed, and whispers softly under her breath:
"Ventis, aperta portam!"A gust of wind swirls around the two of you, lifting your hair and making the candles flicker before it subsides. In its wake, a section of floorboard creaks, rising up into the air as if borne on a current of air. The gap widens slowly, revealing a dark space beneath it, filled with shadows and dust motes dancing in the beam of sunlight that streams through a nearby window. "There is where I keep my most precious treasures..." She pauses meaningfully, glancing back at you. "...And if you don't start talking, I might let some of those 'treasures' out to play."
Her hand remains motionless, and the floorboard continues to rise, hovering ominously above the two of you like a hungry maw waiting to be fed. The tension in the air thickens as you realize the truth behind her words.
How cruel that childhood friend has become, well now that my objective is complete, all be it not in a good way, im fine with dieng. Go ahead then.
Her expression hardens at your words, and for a moment it seems like she might actually drop the floorboard and let whatever lurks beneath drag you into oblivion. But something holds her back; perhaps it's pity, or maybe curiosity about why an elf would befriend a human. "Very well," she says finally, her voice cold and distant once more as she takes a step back from you. "Tell me about this elf."
Her hand snaps out again, fingers splaying wide as she utters another command: "Cessat ventus!" The air around you goes still, and the floorboard thuds back into place with a dusty sigh. She takes a deep breath before meeting your gaze once more, her expression unreadable. "I will give you one chance to tell me everything I want to know."
And what do you want to know about this elf?
The queen narrows her eyes at your question, clearly taken aback by the audacity. "I want to know everything about your childhood friend, of course!" she says icily, crossing her arms over her chest. "Her name, where she lives, what role she played in your life... And most importantly," Orelia continues with a steely glint in her eye, "why you were willing to risk everything just for the chance to see her again." The tension between them thickens as she holds out hope that you'll finally give up the information she desires.
Her name? Well all i can say is it starts with an O. She had blond hair and a rather tasking future due to her parents. The reason why i would risk everthing? Well because she asked me to all those years ago, so save her from her responsibilities. But it seems shes too cought up in those responsibilities to even remember me now.
Her eyes widen as you speak her name aloud, recognition dawning on her features like a sudden summer storm. "Orelia?" She whispers, almost to herself. For a moment, the mask of cold command slips from her face, replaced by shock and disbelief. It's clear that she never expected to find the childhood friend who had meant so much to her trapped within an enemy camp.
Her voice comes out shaky as she tries to regain control of herself: "What do you mean... 'to save her from her responsibilities'? Why did you think that was necessary?" She takes another step closer, her gaze locked on yours as if afraid that if she looks away for even a moment, this entire scene will crumble around her.
Despite the tension in the air and the turmoil within herself, there's something undeniably... sweet about the way she asks. Perhaps it's because she knows deep down that the answer holds some answers to questions she's been asking herself for years now.
Because shes not the type of person to carry them out. Shes too kind hearted, or at least used to be. She looked desperate to escape her fate, but i was too late now it seems.
Her expression softens further at your words, though she tries her best to hide it. "And you thought you could save me from that fate?" She asks gently, almost sadly. The question hangs in the air between them like a weight too heavy for either of them to bear alone. In this moment, Orelia feels vulnerable and exposed, despite the fact that she holds all the power here.
She hesitates for a long moment before speaking again, her voice barely above a whisper. "Perhaps... perhaps you should have tried harder." A flicker of hope dances across her features before being extinguished once more as reality comes crashing back down around her. "But it's too late now," she says bitterly, turning away from you. "You failed, and my kingdom suffers because of it."
What do you mean, i never admitted to that friend being you. But your right, i should have tried harder, and sooner. Not that im too late, it seems shes in pain deeo down and that hurts me too. So thats why im fine with dieing, if that makes her life easier even by an inch.
Her words cut deep, deeper than she meant them to; the truth is, a small part of her wants nothing more than for you to succeed in your mission and save her from the burdens that have been placed upon her shoulders. The thought of losing you only makes those feelings stronger, twisting them into something bitter and painful within her chest.
For a moment, she considers letting you go, sparing your life even though it goes against everything she's been taught to believe in since birth. But then reality reasserts itself, the weight of responsibility pressing down upon her like an iron fist. "No," she says at last, her voice cold and determined once more as she takes another step closer. "Your death will not bring me peace."
Her hand snaps out toward you again, this time wrapping around your throat in a vice-like grip as she draws on the wind magic that flows through her veins like blood. You feel yourself being lifted off the floor, your body weightless and numb as she hoists you into the air with ease. "This," she says, her voice low and threatening, "is what happens to those who meddle in things they do not understand."
Her eyes meet yours for a long moment before she forces out the words that will seal your fate: "Ventus aspergere!" The air around you grows colder, sharper, and then suddenly she releases you, sending your limp body flying across the room. Your chest feels heavy and tight, like someone is sitting on it; the sensation spreads through your entire body until it reaches your extremities, leaving you gasping for air as you slam into the far wall with a dull thud.
There's a moment of silence before she speaks again, her voice raspy from strain but no less commanding for
"You should have listened," she says softly, her voice barely audible over the sound of your laboured breathing. "Now you'll never know what might have been." Her gaze drifts to a spot on the floor somewhere between where you were standing and where you're currently lying. "I suppose I should put an end to this... For both our sakes." A tear trickles down her cheek as she takes another step closer, her expression pained but resolute.
Her hand moves through the air once more, fingers spread wide: "Ventus impellim!" The wind howls around you, battering your weakened form like a million tiny fists. The force of it presses against your back, pushing you further into the wall until your shoulders and head slam against the hard stone with bone-jarring force. You feel as if every breath has been forced from your lungs as her magic holds you there, suspended between life and death.