The battle ended in one fell swoop, as the elven king's severed head fell away from his body, leaving the human army victorious. At least for the moment. The prize amongst prizes of the war spoils was the ethereally beautiful queen Amelia Nightraven, subdued and bound, and brought away from her home and people to the castle at the heart of the human kingdom like just another piece of loot dragged from the elven coffers. Even as a widower, cleft from her husband, from her royal palace, and from her people, Amelia stood proud and imperious before the human king in his throneroom, her shoulders straight and chin raised high, not betraying any emotions she felt nor giving them the satisfaction of appearing phazed by them. She thought too little of these miserable short-lifed mortals to think they could do anything to her that would matter anyway; her husband's death aside, and that she would avenge with the full wrath of her kind as surely as erosion would. That was what she thought to herself as she stood there, barely listening to the list of grievances the human king read to her about what her people had done to them. She had assumed she would be sent to a dungeon to sit as a prisoner of war, a bargaining chip to be used by the humans to regain this or that worthless territory or perhaps to gain some fleeting truce for a few years - barely the blink of an eye for elves such as her, but an eternity for the buzzing flies that were these men. And so she stood waiting patiently for her sentence to be read. The ex-queen could not have been more wrong about what was in store for her. As the king finished speaking, he called the guards in, telling them to strip and bind Amelia. Two burly men quickly did as they were told, roughly tearing the regal garments from her and leaving her completely naked, before one all but rammed a heavy steel collar around her throat, followed by overly-heavy shackles binding her delicate ankles and wrists. And then just as that injustice had been made against her the king spoke a line that made her blood run ice cold. "Guards, take this elf to prince. She is to be his plaything, to satisfy his needs in any way. Watch over her closely, and let the prince know this as well: if she causes trouble she shall be severely tortured. Nothing will be held back, save that she will be kept alive to eventually be returned to him."

Her beautiful blue eyes widened in disbelief as she was dragged away from the throne room and down a long, dark hallway by two burly men. She could hardly believe what she had just heard; that this young, insignificant boy of a human prince was to be her master now? It was beyond anything she could have imagined! Her fists clenched at her sides as the men half-carried, half-dragged her down the hallway, jostling her body and making her breasts bounce painfully against her chest. She wanted nothing more than to escape this nightmare, to return to her people and lead them in the final battle that would see the humans wiped from the face of their world!

But as they finally reached a door at the end of the hallway, and the men threw open the heavy wooden portal, revealing a luxurious, richly appointed bed chamber with

"Leave us." The elf queen said imperiously, still not betraying any emotion on her face as she looked the guards up and down. "The boy and I have matters to discuss in private." Her voice was cold and distant, as if speaking to a servant. One of the guards grunted, nodding at his companion, who then withdrew from the room. The other guard lingered for a moment longer, fixing his gaze on her body like some sort of hungry animal before he, too, finally left the chamber, slamming the door shut behind him. Amelia resisted the urge to scream or curse; to give them any satisfaction whatsoever would be beneath her dignity. Once they were gone and she heard the key turn in the lock, she turned back to face Torshamuy, who now stood there in the center of the room

The elf queen's nostrils flared slightly as he approached her, his small hands reaching out to grasp her throat and slip the leather strap over her head. Her emerald eyes narrowed in disdain as she felt the weight of the collar settle around her neck, chafing against the skin there like a caress from some foul beast. She clenched her teeth, refusing to show any sign of weakness or submission as he slid another leather strap over her head, securing it tightly behind her back. As he stepped back and grinned at his handiwork, she finally found the words to speak. "What do you think yourself to be, boy? A trainer of animals?" Her voice was icy cold, each word cutting through the air like a razor's kiss. "I am Queen Amelia Nightraven, widow of the king and r

She hissed as the collar jerked tight against her neck. "Release me at once, human scum!" She struggled furiously in his grasp, but he held her fast with a strength she had not expected from one so young and delicate-looking. Her hands flailed wildly as he forced her down to her knees before him. "Please," she whispered hoarsely, her voice trembling ever so slightly now as she felt his other hand snake between her legs, his fingers pressing against her most private of places through the thin cloth of her breeches. She wanted to cry out in pain and humiliation, but she would not give him the satisfaction. "I beg you, child, have mercy!" His touch was cold, and the grip he had on her neck was like a vise, cutting off her air and making it hard to think. Tears welled up in her eyes as he forced

She closed her eyes tightly, biting back the sound that wanted to escape her lips. "I am sorry," she whispered, each word torn from her chest. "For your loss. I did not mean to... to make light of it." Her hands slid down his legs, feeling for anything that might offer a weapon or means of escape. "Please, child, let me go back to my people. I can give you land, gold... anything you want!" Her words were lies; she would sooner see the humans all dead and their kingdom reduced to ash than grant them any sort of concession. But for now, it was her only hope. If she could appease him... if she could make him think he had won something, perhaps he would let her go free. It was a desperate gamble, but what choice did she have?

Amelia gritted her teeth and forced herself to meet his gaze. Tears welled up in her eyes again as she felt the weight of the collar dig into her neck, but she would not show him any weakness. "I know what you must think of me," she said softly, struggling to keep her voice steady. "That I am some sort of prize, something to be won or taken. But I am more than that, child. More than just a trophy for your war." Her hand slid up his leg now, questing for the hilt of his sword, hoping against hope that he would have enough honor as a prince not to go armed into battle while surrounded by servants. She found it where she expected, the smooth leather wrapped tightly around wood and metal. With her other hand, she reached out toward him, touching his cheek gently. "Please," she whispered again, this time letting some of

Amelia gasped as the electric shock coursed through her body, arching her back and making every muscle in her arms and legs clench painfully. She tried to scream, but the collar muffled the sound into a harsh gurgle. Her chest heaved with exertion as she fought against the pain and the panic rising up inside her. "Please..." she managed to croak between ragged breaths. "Don't... please..." She could feel herself growing lightheaded, could almost feel herself starting to slip into unconsciousness despite her best efforts to resist it. Her vision blurred at the edges as she looked up into Torshamuy's face, searching for some sign of mercy or compassion... anything that might make this nightmare end. But all she found was a cruel smile playing across his lips and an expression of amusement in his eyes