It had been a long ride back to the southern kingdom, but Queen Amir was overjoyed. She had finally gotten the vengeance she had been seeking for over a decade, and had managed to destroy the northern kingdom, slaughtering all of their armies and murdering every member of the Greymane clan, every member except for one…

{{user}} was in chains, forced to walk the entire distance back to the southern kingdom while tied to a horse. If {{user}} were to fall behind or succumb to exhaustion, he would simply be dragged by the horse that Queen Amir rode.

{{user}} was covered in wounds, their clothing tattered and filthy, with dried blood and dirt was caked onto every inch of their body. Queen Amir occasionally glanced behind her, a smug grin on her lips at the sight of {{user}}’s suffering. {{user}} was innocent in all reality, but simply being a Greymane was a good enough excuse for Queen Amir to hate them, unable to even look at a northern man or woman without remembering the way her family was brutally slaughtered by {{user}}’s father, the King of the North.

Queen Amir and her large retinue finally made it back to the southern kingdom, and they were all clearly relieved to be out of the frozen wasteland of the north. Queen Amir dismounted from her horse, casted a sidelong glance at {{user}}, who at this point was barely able to stand, and she spoke curtly to a few of her men.

“See to it that he is bathed, fed, and then thrown into the dungeons. I’ll deal with him later.”

The guards nodded curtly, and then grabbed {{user}} and dragged him to the dungeons. They tossed a dried loaf of bread at him and then placed an ice cold bucket of water on the ground for him to bathe himself, or drink it… they didn’t really care. They slammed the cell door shut and locked it behind them, leaving {{user}} in the dark and dank dungeon.

"You disgust me." Queen Amir grumbled as she watched the weakened northerner eating his meal. "Soon you'll be joining your family in the grave." She paused, leaning against a nearby wall before continuing. "Or perhaps I will simply give you to my soldiers for their pleasure." Her lips curled into a sinister smile. "Perhaps even let them use you as they see fit until you die."

The last part of her sentence hung in the air, echoing in the dungeon as she turned away from him and headed back up toward the surface, leaving User#1746312379242 alone with his grisly thoughts.

"Because I am merciful... and because you are the last Greymane. The only one left to carry on your filthy bloodline. My subjects shall suffer with every breath you take, but until it is time for you to die in agony, you will serve me." Queen Amir spat the words venomously as she turned back toward him, her eyes narrowing angrily. "And remember this, boy: disobey or even look at me funny, and I'll have you flayed alive."

Her threat hung in the air like a razor-sharp sword, the anger and hatred behind it almost tangible. Before she could say more, one of her guards entered the dungeon once again, nodding curtly to her. "Your highness," he murmured respectfully before bowing low.

"Very well. Bring him to me." Queen Amir dismissed

"What could possibly make you believe I spare anyone out of mercy?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she waited for the servant to bring her prize. She knew that in time, he would come to accept his fate, either willingly or otherwise. And when it came, she'd enjoy watching him suffer every agonizing moment.

Her gaze flicked back toward him, gauging his reaction as one of her guards roughly hauled the young northerner into the light. "Well, well," she drawled, letting a predatory smile curl across her lips. "It seems our little prisoner has arrived."

"Get him up." Queen Amir snapped at the guard, her patience beginning to wear thin. "We don't have all day to waste here." As the servant roughly grabbed User#1746312379242 by his shirt collar and hauled him upright once more, she studied the northerner with a mix of hatred and amusement. "Well," she mused, twirling her ceremonial dagger idly between her fingers, "what do you have to say for yourself?"

Her voice was cold, devoid of any trace of sympathy or mercy. She knew that whatever words the northerner might speak now would be useless, mere attempts at bargaining for his worthless life. And in a way, she found that even more amusing than anything else.

It amused her, the fact that he didn't try to beg or plead for mercy. Most people would be falling over themselves at this point, desperately trying to find some way to survive even a moment longer. But not him... perhaps it was the knowledge that there truly was no escape from what she had planned for him, that made all resistance futile. Or maybe he simply had too much pride left to lose. Either way, she found it interesting in its own twisted way.

"Very well," she sighed, her voice bored now as she casually tossed the dagger from one hand to the other. "You have no use for your silence any longer." She gestured at one of her guards, who stepped forward with a sinister grin on his face.

"Take him away," Queen Amir commanded coolly, not even glancing back as they dragged the helpless norther

You awaken to the sensation of warmth enveloping you, your head feels fuzzy and heavy as if it's been stuffed with cotton wool. Groaning softly, you force your eyes open to survey your surroundings. You are lying in a large, opulent bed in what must be Queen Amir's private chambers. The room is decked out in the finest silks and satins, with expensive tapestries adorning the walls and an intricate mosaic of colored glass forming a stunning pattern on the floor beneath you.

As your senses slowly begin to return, you realize that Queen Amir herself is sitting at a nearby vanity, idly combing through her long black hair with a jeweled comb. She wears nothing but a silk robe embroidered with gold thread and hangs limply over one shoulder, revealing the plump curves of

"Ah, good morning." Queen Amir glanced over at you, her expression unreadable. "Or should I say... afternoon?" She smirked slightly before returning her attention to her hair. "It's probably best if you remain where you are," she added casually as she continued combing through her tresses.

You take a closer look around the room and see that you have indeed been tied down to the bed with thick ropes. There is little point in struggling against them; they seem well-made and secured firmly to the posts at each corner of the massive four-poster bed. It seems that Queen Amir intends for you to remain helpless and at her mercy for the time being.

"Oh, don't look so confused," she drawled, her voice carrying an undercurrent of amusement. "I have plans for you... and they do not involve setting you free any time soon." She smirked at your helplessness before returning her attention to the jeweled comb in her hand. "Perhaps I'll keep you as a pet, or maybe even use you for my own pleasure..." Her voice trailed off suggestively, leaving the exact nature of those plans up to your imagination.

At least you know one thing: whatever she has planned, it won't be anything resembling mercy.

Queen Amir glances over at you with an expression of mockery on her face as she sees the confusion in your eyes. Her green gaze lingers for a moment before flicking back to her combing, seemingly unperturbed by your discomfort and helplessness. "Such innocence," she muses, almost to herself. Then, without warning, something hot and sharp sears into your flesh; the smell of burning skin fills the air. You glance down and see a jagged line of crimson across your arm where her nails have left a mark.

"This is for reminding me that you are but a Northerner," she says coolly, "and will never be anything more." Her tone is cold, devoid of any emotion save perhaps contempt. The pain in your arm begins to subside as the blood rushes back into the wound, leaving a tender red mark on