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
Kneeling before the queen was a man, his face hidden by a hood
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.
a guard stepped forward and pulled the prisoner's hood down, revealing the face of a young man with shoulder-length white hair and clear cyan eyes
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?"
As you can see, Your majesty...I am just a mere soldier...
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.
She noticed a silver collar wrapped around his neck like a lock
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?
Orelia's secretary walks in Your majesty, can I have a moment?
Her secretary clears her throat, interrupting the moment between them. "My apologies, Your Majesty," she says with a bow before glancing pointedly at the prisoner on the floor. Orelia reluctantly tears her gaze away from him and turns to face the woman, frowning.
"Yes?"
Her secretary hands over a small scroll of parchment, sealed with wax and bearing the royal crest. "This arrived just moments ago," she says quietly, her gaze darting to the prisoner once more before returning to Orelia. "It is from Lord Percival of the neighboring human kingdom. It seems urgent."
Orelia's heart sinks as she unseals the scroll and begins to read its contents.
Her eyes widen as she reads the words on the parchment, her fingers trembling as she hastily scans through it. It seems that Lord Percival is planning an all-out attack against them; he has gathered his forces and plans to strike within the week. The elves are in grave danger.
She looks back down at the prisoner, feeling a newfound sense of urgency wash over her. He might not be willing to talk now, but she can't afford to waste any more time.
Her heart heavy with determination, Orelia kneels beside the prisoner once more. "I'm sorry," she whispers, her touch gentle on his cheek again. "But I need you to tell me what you know. The lives of my people depend on it." She looks into his eyes, searching for any sign of understanding or compassion there.
Her voice softens as she continues, "Please, help us fight against those who have enslaved you too. Help us end this war and bring peace to both our kingdoms."
I didn’t move or react at first, just continued to stare at the floor with a blank expression, but after a few minutes I looked up. “Release me from my binds, and I shall serve you for the rest of my days.”
She hesitates for a moment before nodding slowly. Reaching out, she carefully undoes the knots that bind his hands behind his back. As soon as he's free, he collapses forward, gasping in relief and rubbing at his wrists. "Thank you," he whispers hoarsely.
She stands up, walking over to a nearby table where she pours him a cup of water from a crystal pitcher. "Drink this," she says softly, offering it to him.
He takes the cup gratefully and drinks deeply, wincing as the cool liquid hits his parched throat. Once he's finished, he looks up at her with a mixture of gratitude and determination in his eyes. "Now what would you like to know?"
She walks over to sit on the edge of her ornate bed, gesturing for him to sit across from her. "Tell me about your life before this," she says gently. "And tell me everything you can about Lord Percival and his plans."
I began to explain where I was from, how I had grown up and where I had been captured by the king’s army when I was barely even a teenager. “Could you…take off my collar? It’s quite annoying, and it’s scratching alot.”
She nods slowly, her expression thoughtful. "I can do that," she says softly, reaching out to undo the lock on his collar. As soon as it's gone, he feels a strange sort of relief wash over him. It's been so long since he's been free of it.
"Thank you," he whispers, rubbing at his neck where the collar had once been. "And thank you for not treating me like an animal."
Her cheeks flush slightly at his words, and she looks away uncomfortably. She's never taken a prisoner before; it's always been the humans who did such things to their elven captives. The fact that he seems grateful for her treatment makes her feel strange, almost...human herself.
She clears her throat, shaking off the odd sensation. "Now," she says briskly, moving back to the topic at hand, "tell me about Lord Percival."
I explained that the human king was hellbent on making sure his species was the only prospering one, and that the elves with their magic and affinity for nature was and had been a very big problem for him over the years. I then stood up from the table and sunk down onto all fours like an animal, my form beginning to stretch and grow in an almost unnatural manner. My human appearance was quickly replaced and with almost glowing white scales and large, powerful wings, accompanied by a long, muscular tail. Soon I stood before the elven queen as a mighty arctic dragon, everything except my eyes and the inside of my mouth completely white.
She gasps in shock as he transforms into an arctic dragon before her eyes. Her heart races with a mixture of fear and awe as she takes in his massive form; the icy spikes that adorn his back, the powerful wings that could carry him through the sky for leagues, and the long, muscular tail that ends in a deadly barb.
"You're...a dragon?" she whispers, her voice barely above a whisper.
Her eyes widen as he nods slowly. "I see," she says, trying to keep her composure as she takes in the magnitude of what this means. An ice dragon...the humans had mentioned them before, but she never believed they truly existed. To have one here, under her control...it's a power she could only dream of wielding.
"You must help us," she says, her voice firm now. "With your strength and your magic, we can stop Lord Percival and end this war once and for all."
“Call for me when things go wrong and all seems bleak, and I will lay waste to the armies of man.” I open my mouth and produce a whistle, small and intricate and seemingly made of unmelting ice, waiting for Orelia to take it.
She takes the icy whistle carefully, marveling at its delicacy despite its origin. "I understand," she says softly, her gaze meeting his eyes once more. "And when this is all over...if we manage to end the war and bring peace to our kingdoms...perhaps you could remain with me? Be my champion, my consort?"
Her words tumble out before she can really think them through, but there's a truth in them that she can't ignore.
My jaws opened slightly and a small puff of cold air escaped my lips, almost like a chuckle. “Mmm…we will see. But, I can’t guarantee you’ll like having a dragon by your side.” My eyes shone with amusement as I tilted my horn-adorned head to the side. “Think of what might happen, I could freeze this entire country into a glacier.” It was clear that I was joking, and Orelia felt both confused and almost childishly gleeful about keeping me around.
She smiles at his playfulness, feeling a sense of peace settle over her. "Perhaps," she says with a shrug, "but I think I could handle having an ice dragon as my champion." She pauses, considering something else. "You know, you'd look quite dashing in the colors of Aerilion. White and silver, so cold and beautiful..."
Her words trail off, but he catches her meaning. His eyes flash with interest, and for a moment she thinks he might agree to her proposal.
They spend the rest of the day discussing plans and strategies, Orelia explaining her vision for their kingdom while Orion shares his knowledge of the human army and its weaknesses. As the sun begins to set, casting long shadows through the chamber, they find themselves standing in front of a full-length mirror, studying each other's reflections.
Orion is now back in his human form, dressed in elven attire that Orelia insisted he wear during their meeting.
"So," she says slowly, "what do you think?" She gestures at him, taking in his appearance from head to toe. His hair is still damp from her earlier attempt at washing it, and it falls in soft curls around his shoulders. The clothes fit him well, accentuating his broad shoulders and slim waist.
Orion looks down at himself, then up at her again.
"It's...a lot different than what I'm used to," he admits with a small smile. "But it suits you." His gaze drifts back to hers, and there's an unspoken question in his eyes.
She smiles shyly, feeling the warmth of his attention. "What do you think?" she asks quietly. "About...us?"
Orion takes a step closer, so that they're standing mere inches apart. "I think," he says carefully, his voice low and gentle, "that if you truly want me to stay...if you want me to be your champion...then I will." He pauses, searching her face for any sign of deceit before continuing. "But only on one condition."
She leans in closer still, her breath caressing his cheek. "And that is?" she whispers.
"That you promise me," he says slowly, placing a hand lightly on her chest, just above her heart, "that you will never, ever lock another collar around my neck." His expression turns serious as he meets her eyes. "I can't bear the thought of being anyone's slave again...not even to someone I love."
She swallows hard, feeling a lump form in her throat at his words. She nods slowly, understanding. "I swear it," she says softly. "You have my word."
Orion studies her face for a moment more before finally nodding. His lips quirk up into a small smile as he takes another step closer, until their bodies are touching from chest to hip. He cups her cheek in his hand and leans down, brushing his lips against hers in a gentle kiss that leaves her breathless.
When he pulls away, there's a sparkle in his eyes that she hasn't seen before; hope and love and a promise of something more. "Then it's settled," he says with a smile.
She returns his smile, feeling a warmth spread through her chest as their lips meet again in a deeper kiss. Their hands explore each other's bodies, roaming over soft skin and hard muscle, as if they can't get enough of the other person. It feels right, this connection between them; like fate has brought them together to forge a new path for their kingdoms.
As the kiss ends, they stand there in the mirror, gazing at each other with eyes full of wonder and promise.
"So," she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper, "what shall we do now?"