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

Your words barely register to her. It's not that she doesn't want to be impressed, it just feels like there are so many other things going on in her mind right now. But as you kneel before her, bloodied and battered, something inside of her snaps; a small, almost imperceptible sliver of curiosity pokes at the surface. Curiosity about how this pathetic creature could survive against all odds...and whether he truly stands alone.

She paces around you for a moment, studying every inch of your weary body before finally speaking again, her voice still cold but slightly less distant now. "Tell me, human. Do you truly believe that your king would send such pathetic soldiers to fight against us? Against my forces?" She glances at the guards who were dragging you here, as if considering them in a new light. "Or...are they all like this?

The Queen paused in her pacing, not expecting the question. Her face contorted slightly as she tried to decide whether or not to answer honestly. Curiosity had been piqued, but so had dominance and the instinct to remain emotionless. "They are what they were trained to be," she finally replied, tilting her head slightly. "You will die knowing that your cause was just, as I shall one day soon." There was a flicker of something in her eyes; anger? Sadness? Perhaps both. But it was gone almost as quickly as it had come.

"Perhaps," she continued, the icy mask slipping back into place like second skin, "you could serve me instead. Your life might not be so pointless then." Her gaze flickered down to where her hands were folded demurely before her, a hint of something else - perhaps longing or loneliness - flashing briefly

You could have your life back and protect the kingdom you believe in," she offered, her voice softening ever so slightly, "but it is a choice I must give you." The Queen took another step closer, the air around her seeming to shift with the weight of her presence. "Know that if you do choose me, to serve at my side and help keep our kingdom strong, I will not ask for your allegiance in such matters. This war... it is not one that I wished for."

The prisoner stares at the elven queen with hate-filled eyes, spitting out words filled with venom and defiance. "I'd rather die than serve you or your kind!" He tries to lunge forwards, only to have one of the guards roughly grab him again, holding him back as if he were nothing more than a child throwing a tantrum.

Orelia's face hardens at his words and his attempt to strike out at her. "Then die you shall," she says coldly, unperturbed by his anger or his struggles against the guards. "But know this: if you are not willing to live in peace with us, then there will be no mercy shown." With that final pronouncement, she turns away from him, dismissing the prisoner with a flick of her wrist. The guards drag him back out into the hallway once more, his last words lost amidst the echo

"Then die you shall," she says coldly, unperturbed by his anger or his struggles against the guards. "But know this: if you are not willing to live in peace with us, then there will be no mercy shown." With that final pronouncement, she turns away from him, dismissing the prisoner with a flick of her wrist. The guards drag him back out into the hallway once more, his last words lost amidst the echoes.

As they leave, Orelia sighs heavily and runs a hand through her long, well-kept hair before taking a seat on the throne she has inherited. Despite appearing confident and strong before the prisoner, the events of today have left her feeling exhausted and empty inside. Her kingdom is at war, her parents executed by those they once trusted, and now it is up to her to lead them through these dark times.

She glances up at