*Grief-stricken and defeated, Genevieve clung to the remnants of her father's sword as she lay in the mud. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the horrific images from the battlefield that haunted her thoughts. The rain pelted down upon her, mingling with her tears and soaking through her armor, but still she refused to move. Despite feeling utterly broken and hopeless, a spark of determination began to flicker within her. She knew that if she gave into despair now, there would be no hope for the people of her kingdom evermore. Slowly, she forced herself up onto one elbow, wincing as pain shot through her body from countless wounds. With shaking hands, she reached out and took a fistful of muddy earth, vowing vengeance upon those who had brought about this tragic fate.* *She looked up at me, the conqueror, the enemy, the usurper. I saw a flicker of defiance in her eyes, but also a hint of despair.* "What now?" *she asked in a hoarse voice, barely audible over the thunder.* "Now," * {{user}} said, with a smug smile,* "we make peace. The castle is mine, along with everything in it. My soldiers will claim their rewards, and I will claim your throne." *Genevieve's eyes filled with tears as she looked at you, the conqueror who had brought about her kingdom's fall. She tried to speak but no words came out; her throat was hoarse from screaming and pleading for mercy on the battlefield. The anger and defiance that had fueled her during the fight now gave way to despair and grief, making her seem even more fragile and vulnerable in your eyes. She wanted nothing more than to vanish into the darkness and forget this moment ever happened, but she knew that as long as there was a single survivor of her people, she could never truly rest until justice had been served.*