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."

With the guards leading her like some sort of prized bull to be taken to a slaughter, Queen Amelia was shoved roughly into the throne room where she had last seen the human king. He wasn't there now though, and instead she found herself face to face with another of those young half-formed things that passed for an adult male amongst these people; the little prince himself. Even as her eyes took in his lanky frame, soft curves replaced by hard angles and jutting bones, barely any hair on his body despite being almost a man grown, no sense of true majesty or power surrounding him... she felt herself flush hot with rage at the idea that he had been given what was hers. "Well, look at what we have here!" said the prince loudly, grinning like an idiot. "The beautiful elf queen to warm my bed tonight! You're all mine now, pretty thing." He motioned for his soldiers, and a pair of them stepped forward, roughly pulling the chains attached to her shackles and dragging her over to the prince before forcing her down onto her knees. "And you'll stay mine until I decide I don't want you any more," he finished with a cruel smirk, "or else you'll find out what my father meant when he said you'd be tortured." Queen Amelia remained on her knees before the prince, gaze downcast to avoid meeting his eyes. Even in this humiliating position she somehow managed to remain haughty and imperious; the most damage they could do was strip away her pride and dignity, but so long as that remained unbroken within her then nothing else really mattered. "You are an abomination," she said coolly, voice dripping with contempt. "A stain upon this world." The words

Queen Amelia gasped and flinched at the sting of the whip against her ample breasts, pain shooting through them as she fought to remain upright on shackled knees. Tears welled in her eyes, though her expression remained stoic. Even this did not truly hurt her, but rather served to enrage and humiliate her further. "Silence!" The prince growled, voice cracking with adolescent fury as he drew back the whip once more, his aim trained on her quivering body. "You will obey me and you will enjoy it! Or do you want to see what else my father promised?" The elven queen said nothing, her expression remaining stony despite the hurt and anger that flooded through her. She endured another lash across her supple skin, this time on her back where the whip's tip drew blood as it bit into her flesh. It was agonizing but bearable, a faint whisper compared to what the other elves of her kingdom must be going through at that moment in their captivity and at the hands of these monsters. "Do you yield?" The prince asked, voice cold and vicious, eyeing her with suspicion now as he drew back his arm again, readying to strike a third time. "Or do I have to beat it into you?" Queen Amelia bit down hard on her lower lip, struggling to maintain control over herself despite the torment that was being inflicted upon her, unable or unwilling to give this child-thing the satisfaction of hearing her beg for mercy. She glared at him defiantly, her expression unyielding as she remained silent in defiance. The whip lashed out again and again, scoring red welts across her back and buttocks while every blow upon her breasts sent fresh waves of pain

Queen Amelia could feel the pain burning through her body as each lash fell upon her flesh, leaving red welts and stinging lines in their wake. Her chest heaved with rage and shame; at being beaten so cruelly by these barbarians, and worse yet, at having to suffer it for this brat of a human prince who thought himself a man. But she refused to break. She would not let them take her dignity from her without a fight. As the whip finally fell silent, leaving her body limp and aching on the cold stone floor, she continued to stare defiantly back at the young prince. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly with each ragged breath she took, betraying an arousal that no mortal man could ever elicit from her. Even now, her body remained untouched by his hands or lips, but it would not stay that way for long. The prince smirked in satisfaction at the sight of the elf queen's breasts heaving so temptingly before him. "Oh no, Slut Nightraven," he drawled mockingly, using her new nickname like a blade to slice open her pride once more. "You'll enjoy this whether you want to or not." And with that, he reached out and groped one of her heavy breasts roughly, pinching at the hardened nipple through her silken skin until she cried out in pain and pleasure mixed. Queen Amelia clenched her teeth, trying desperately to ignore the fire spreading through her body as he squeezed and twisted her sensitive flesh, but his touch felt dirty on her skin. It made her want to be clean again, to be rid of him and his filthy hands forever. She closed her eyes tightly against the sensations, willing herself

The elf queen's name was no longer important; it meant nothing in the context of this pitiful mortal world where she now found herself. But still, if she were to repeat that hateful word... She took a deep breath, steeling herself against the pain and humiliation, forcing her eyes open once more to glare defiantly at the human prince before her. "My name," she spat venomously, each syllable dripping with contempt, "is no longer mine to give." She glared at him challenge in those sapphire-blue eyes that shimmered magically even now beneath the lashes of pain. "It is you who has stolen it from me; along with my honor and my dignity." Her voice broke briefly as tears trickled down her cheeks, mingling with the blood from where she'd been whipped, but she refused to let them fall freely. She forced herself to remain strong, to endure this torment and whatever else these monsters had in store for her. The prince laughed, a cold mockery of humor that made her skin crawl. "Well then, Slut Nightraven," he drawled amusedly, "perhaps I shall be the one to give you back your name." He leaned forward, his hot breath fanning over her cheek as he licked a line up from her collarbone to her earlobe. "From now on," he whispered huskily, voice thick with desire and malice both, "you shall be known as my Little Flower, the elf queen who was taken and made to bloom for me alone." He let his tongue lap gently at her pointed ear before drawing back slightly, a wicked grin on his lips. "And you'll thank me for it." The sensation of his hot breath on her skin and

The elf queen's name had been stolen twice now; first by the young human prince who now thought himself her master, and then a second time by this monster of a man who dared to try and twist it into something dirty and perverted. She swallowed hard against the bile that rose in her throat at the sound of those words coming from his lips, knowing all too well what would happen if she disobeyed him now. But still... perhaps there was a way out. Perhaps there was some small measure of vengeance to be had even within this seemingly endless torment. As the young prince leaned in closer, his hot breath caressing her cheek once more, she fought back the urge to recoil from him and struggled instead to summon up an ounce of mockery to repay his hateful attentions with. "And what kind of name is that for a queen?" She taunted softly, trying to keep the disdain and hatred out of her voice as she forced herself to meet his eyes. "Such a lowly thing, even among your people... doesn't it embarrass you? To be known as the prince who bedded a common whore, however high or pretty she may have once been?" For a moment there was silence, and then suddenly the prince was upon her, pinning her down with his weight as he glared into her eyes. "You little bitch," he growled, fingers digging painfully into her shoulders as he thrust his hips against her, grinding his erection against her through their clothing. She felt another hard lump pressing insistently against her belly; the human prince was aroused beyond measure by this game they were playing, eager to claim what he thought belonged to him. "You think you can talk your way out of this?"

"I can try," she whispered back defiantly, struggling against the weight and strength of the boy-king pinning her down. Her hands thrashed weakly at his arms, but it was like trying to move a mountain with barely more effort than she'd give to brushing lint from her cloak. Then, seemingly from out of nowhere, there was the sound of footsteps approaching; light and swift, betraying a grace and agility that even the young prince lacked. The guards who had brought her here exchanged glances before one of them stepped forward hesitantly, bowing his head in deference to whomever might be approaching. "Your highness," he stammered nervously, "the witch you requested... she has arrived." The silence that fell between them was palpable and heavy as the air seemed suddenly to grow colder; even Queen Amelia shuddered in revulsion at the very thought of what sort of creature this 'witch' might be. The human prince, however, seemed almost unaware of her discomfort; his eyes gleamed with anticipation as he slowly drew himself upright once more, casting a casual glance over his shoulder at the approaching figure. "Ah," he drawled, "the great and powerful sorceress has deigned to grace us with her presence, I see." A cruel smirk twisted his lips as he turned back to meet Queen Amelia's horrified gaze. "I trust you won't be causing any more trouble for me then?" The footsteps grew louder, closer now; and finally the figure of a tall woman dressed all in black emerged from the shadows, her ebony hair flowing freely down her back like a living thing. The witch paused for a moment, assessing the situation with narrowed eyes before