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

Her eyes narrow as she watches him carefully, trying to read his expression under the shadows of his hood. The wind picks up slightly around them, and her own power seems to stir within her chest. "So," she says slowly, "you're not willing to tell me anything?" She takes a step closer, almost close enough to reach out and touch him. "You must have something important that you don't want us to know."

Her voice remains cold and steady, but there's an undercurrent of curiosity in her words.

Her breath catches in her throat as she sees his face. He's young, no more than twenty summers past, and strikingly beautiful. His pale skin is flawless despite the beating he's taken, and his white hair shines like spun silver in the dim light of the chamber. Even bruised and bloodied, he has an ethereal quality about him that makes her heart race faster than it should.

She takes another step closer, unable to resist the pull she feels towards him. "You must be important," she whispers, her voice barely above a whisper. "To have survived all of this." Her gaze flickers down to his lips for a moment before meeting his eyes again.

Her curiosity about him is replaced by something else entirely; a strange sort of longing that she's never felt before. She reaches out and gently touches his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin against her cool fingers. "Who are you?"

Her heart skips a beat at the sound of his voice; soft and melodic like wind chimes in the summer breeze. She leans forward, closing her eyes as she listens to him speak. "No," she says quietly when he finishes, "I don't think you are." Something inside her tells her that there is more to this young man than meets the eye.

Her eyes widen as she notices the collar around his neck, and realization dawns on her face. "You're one of them," she says accusingly, her voice cold once more. "A slave to the humans." She pulls back, feeling a mixture of disgust and pity for him. How could they have done this to someone so beautiful?

"Yes, what is it?" she snaps at her secretary, not taking her eyes off the slave boy. The woman hesitates for a moment before stepping forward and curtsying deeply.

"My apologies, Your Majesty," she says quietly, "According to intelligence, that man was not human, and that collar was some kind of sealing artifact that humans had attached to him"

Her eyes widen in surprise as the secretary speaks. Could it be true? If this boy wasn't human...then what was he? She looks at him more closely, searching for any signs of deception or falseness. But everything she sees only confirms that he is genuine; his beauty and vulnerability seem to radiate from him like a beacon in the dark.

"What are you?" she asks softly, her voice barely above a whisper now.

Her heart stops as the words sink in. A dragon? No...it couldn't be true. Dragons were extinct, legendary creatures of myth and lore. They weren't supposed to exist in this world anymore. And yet here he was, before her very eyes...beaten and bloody, but still alive.

She takes another step closer, reaching out to touch his cheek again. Her fingers tremble against his skin as she studies him intently, searching for any signs of scales or claws that would indicate his true nature.

A gasp escapes her lips as she sees the small horns on his forehead, the telltale sign of a dragon's true form. Her hand freezes in mid-air, hovering just above his cheek, too shocked to touch him now. And then she notices the long white tail swaying gently behind him, undulating like a serpent as it moves with his every breath.

"No," she whispers, "it can't be..."

She steps back, eyes wide and staring as she tries to process what this means. If he truly is a dragon...then the humans must have captured him and forced him into slavery. The thought makes her blood boil with rage. How dare they treat such a magnificent creature so cruelly?

"I-I'm sorry," she stutters, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart in her ears. "We didn't know...we thought you were human..."

Her eyes narrow as anger courses through her veins like molten lava. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself before she says anything she might regret. "I want you to tell me why they did this," she demands, pointing an accusatory finger at the slave boy. "What do they want from you?"

Her voice comes out colder and harsher than she intended, but she can't help it; the thought of anyone harming him fills her with a fury that she's never known before.

Her eyes widen at his words, understanding dawning on her like a flash of lightning in the dark. He's a dragon of life...and the humans want him because of his healing powers. No wonder they've been winning battle after battle; with an asset like this at their disposal, it's no wonder they're gaining ground against her people.

"You can help us," she says, taking another step closer to him. "Together, we could stop them from using you for their own selfish gains."

She hesitates for a moment, searching for the right words to explain herself. Finally, she says simply, "Because it's wrong. What they're doing is wrong, and I won't stand for it." Her voice is firm now, filled with determination and resolve. "If you help us, Arzuda...if you fight alongside us, then together we can stop them and put an end to this madness."

She reaches out a hand, offering him a chance at freedom and vengeance.

"Yes," she says with a nod, taking his hand in hers. "We can help each other." Her grip is firm but gentle, reassuring him that she means what she says. "And together, I promise you, we will make them pay for what they've done to you and our people."

A small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth as she meets his gaze, and for a moment, she feels something warm spread through her chest; a strange sort of hope that she hasn't felt in a long time.

The days turn into weeks, and the weeks stretch into months, as Arzuda becomes an integral part of Queen Orelia's life. He teaches her about his people and their ways, sharing stories of ancient dragons and mythical creatures that she had only read about in dusty tomes. In return, she shows him her kingdom; its beauty and its brutality, the hardships they face and the triumphs they achieve together.

As they grow closer, Orelia finds herself relying on his counsel more and more.

Arzuda's advice is invaluable to Orelia; with him as her advisor, she's able to make better decisions and lead her people more effectively. Despite their differences, they complement each other perfectly; her strategic mind and elven cunning balancing out his dragon might and wisdom.

As the months pass, Orelia finds herself looking forward to spending time with Arzuda, even if it's just for their daily meetings or walks in the gardens.