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
Mohammed says: Thank you...
Orelia raises her eyebrow slightly in reply as you barely manage to get out a single word through your battered lips before coughing up some blood and spitting it onto the floor between you"My guards tell me that you've been quite uncooperative so far. Perhaps I should...motivate you..." She says with a cold expression, stepping closer to you now as she rests her hands on her hips, giving you a better view of her small bags under her eyes. "Share with me the information I want or you might find your next few hours rather unpleasant..."
She pauses for a moment and takes a deep breath before slowly exhaling it out through pursed lips as she looks at you intently, eyes searching yours for any signs of weakness or fear.
Mohammed says: Hahaha I resisted your toughest men. Do you think I can't resist you?
*She snorts and rolls her eyes, taking another step forward so that she's towering over you even more now as she crosses her arms underneath her well-endowed chest. "Oh really? Is that so?" Her tone becomes even colder than before, making your skin crawl despite the warmth of the castle surrounding you.
"You must have mistaken me for one of your simple-minded soldiers," she says with a cold smile curling onto her lips as she leans down close to your ear, "because I can assure you, mortal, I am far from being like any elf they may have thrown at you." Her breath tickles against your neck and sends a shiver down your spine. "So, do you still wish to test me?"
Mohammed says: I will not tell you anything. I will not betray my people.
*The queen's lips thin into a line at your response and she straightens up to her full height once more, glaring down at you with an icy stare. "Very well," she says coldly, the air around her seeming to grow colder as anger begins to simmer beneath the surface of her calm exterior.
Without warning, Orelia reaches out and grips your chin roughly between her thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look up into her dull eyes. Her other hand flies forward, the palm pressing firmly against your abused chest, pinning you back against the cold marble floor beneath.
"Do not test me," she hisses, her breath hot against your cheek now. "You have no idea what I am capable of." Her grip tightens painfully as she glares down at you with a mixture of anger and frustration. "Tell
Mohammed says: The only thing I can tell you is that you are hot.
Orelia's eyes widen at your remark, her grip on your chin slipping slightly before she regains control and presses down harder, effectively pinning you to the floor underneath her weight. Her breath comes out in a shaky little laugh, surprising both of you as she finally lets go of your face, stepping back to put some distance between the two of you again.
"Hot?" She echoes disbelievingly, crossing her arms once more and giving you a look of mild confusion. "Honestly, I don't know whether to be insulted or amused by that." Her voice is still cold, but there's a hint of laughter in it now as she shakes her head slightly, looking you over from head to toe. "Well then," she says at last, straightening up even further and smoothing out the folds of her gown with careful hands.
Mohammed says: Yes, don't try. I won't tell you anything.
As much as she would love to punish you further for your insolence, Orelia decides that perhaps it would be best to try a different approach with this... unique human prisoner of war. After all, he has proven rather resilient so far, even against her own personal guards. Perhaps the key to breaking him lies not in force or fear, but in something else entirely. Her chest tightens momentarily at the thought of how desperately she wishes to find out what that something might be.
Taking a deep breath, Orelia steps forward until she's once more close enough to tower over you as she rests her hands on her hips, glaring down at you with dull eyes. "Very well," she says through gritted teeth, struggling against the urge to simply use her magic to rip your tongue from your throat right now and end this charade. "I shall give you one more
Mohammed says: What do you want?
"I want the truth," Orelia snarls, her frustration finally boiling over as she takes a step closer to you, effectively pinning you beneath her gaze once more. "Do you honestly think I would not find out eventually? The humans will fall soon enough and when they do..." Her voice trails off into a cold silence for a moment before she continues, her tone growing even harsher. "...when they do, your king and queen will be held accountable for their actions, whether they are directly responsible or not." She pauses again, studying you carefully as she tries to gauge the effect of her words on you. "Do you really want that weight on your people's shoulders?"
Mohammed says: I will tell you nothing and do what you want.
Her cold gaze narrows slightly as you defiantly spit out your reply and her expression sours into a disapproving frown. "Very well," she says quietly, almost to herself more than to you. She seems genuinely disappointed in your lack of cooperation despite the anger simmering just beneath the surface. After a moment's consideration, she takes a step back and gestures for her guards to come and retrieve you once again. "Take him away," she says with a sigh before turning her back on you and heading towards her desk, her movements graceful and regal despite the tension in her muscles.
As you're hauled out of the room and deeper into the castle, you can't help but wonder if you've just made a grave mistake by refusing to cooperate with the elven queen...
the next day
The following morning, Orelia sits at her desk with a cup of steaming tea in front of her, still pondering over the events that had transpired last night. The human soldier's stubbornness and resilience had intrigued her, to say the least, but she couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration at his refusal to cooperate. As she sips from her cup, a servant approaches her, a folded piece of parchment in hand. "My lady, you have a message." The servant hands it over to her, bowing their head respectfully.
Orelia's brow furrows as she unfolds the parchment and begins to read through its contents. Her expression shifts from confusion to surprise, then shock. She can feel her heart racing in her chest as she finishes reading. With trembling fingers, she places the message back on the
at dinner time
Her hands shaking slightly, Orelia carefully folds the parchment into a neat square and slips it into her sleeve. She takes a deep breath to steady herself before rising from her seat and making her way towards the grand dining hall where dinner is already being served. The servant who had delivered the message silently follows behind, their eyes downcast respectfully.
As she enters the lavish room filled with elves chattering and laughing among themselves, Orelia attempts to calm her racing heart and regain control of her emotions. It's important that no one suspect anything amiss. She takes her seat at the head of the table, gracefully greeting each guest as they file in and take their places around her.
Dinner progresses much like any other, with servants bringing forth delicious dishes for them to sample and enjoy. The conversations range from light-hearted gossip about court politics
At night, she asks her guards to bring Muhammad to her for interrogation again.
When the guards bring you into her presence once more, she leans back in her chair and crosses her arms across her chest, studying you with icy blue eyes. "I trust your rest was sufficient," she says coolly, almost conversationally as if they were old friends catching up over tea instead of an interrogation session."You seem to be rather...stubborn for someone in your position. But then again, perhaps that's what makes you interesting," Orelia muses aloud before leaning forward slightly and fixing her gaze on yours. "Now, where were we yesterday?" She asks mockingly, tilting her head to the side ever so slightly as she tilts her chin upwards.
Her expression is almost amused, which only serves to unnerve you further. You can't help but wonder if this was all some sort of cruel game for her...
Mohammed says: It's nice that you find me interesting.
Orelia's lips twitch into the barest hint of a smile at your comment before she lets out a small laugh that echoes through the room, causing several heads to turn in their direction. "I suppose you could say that," she says casually as if discussing the weather or some other mundane topic instead of torturing information out of you. "But let's not forget that I also find you...persistent." Her voice takes on a warning tone now, making it clear that she won't hesitate to take things further if necessary.
"Now," she continues after a moment's consideration, leaning forward once more so that her face is only inches from yours, "perhaps if we were to try a different approach..."
Mohammed says: Whatever your approach, I will not give up.
At this point, Orelia can no longer hide her impatience as she leans even closer to you, until their breaths mingle together. "I'm beginning to think that you don't understand the gravity of your situation," she hisses through gritted teeth before taking a deep calming breath and sitting back in her chair once more, careful not to appear too aggressive or desperate.
"You see, my dear prisoner," she purrs sweetly, voice now smooth as silk despite the anger and frustration that lie beneath it, "the longer you refuse to cooperate with me, the worse things will be for your people." She reaches out a delicate hand and lightly brushes a strand of hair from your forehead before drawing her fingers back up to rest against your cheek.
"Just tell me what I want to know, and maybe...just maybe..." Her voice trails
Mohammed says: Maybe what?
Maybe I'll consider being lenient with you and your people." Her fingers curl gently around your cheek as she gazes into your eyes intently, searching for any hint of weakness or fear. "And maybe," she whispers softly, leaning closer again until her breath warms your lips, "you'll be able to return to them one day...unharmed." Her other hand finds its way to rest on top of yours where it lies folded in her lap, their fingers intertwining.
The air between you seems charged with tension and desire, even as she keeps up the pretense of being merely concerned for your well-being. Your heart races wildly in your chest and a shiver runs down your spine at her touch. The choice is yours...
Mohammed says: Your touch is nice... but my answer is no.
Her eyes narrow as she takes in your defiant reply, her fingers tightening on your cheek almost painfully. She pulls away from you with a sharp intake of breath, standing up from her chair and towering over you once again. "Fine then," she snarls through gritted teeth. "So be it."
Her tone leaves little doubt that she's not simply giving up on her mission; if anything, this only serves to make her more determined than ever to get what she wants out of you, one way or another. Her cold gaze sweeps over your battered and bruised body before settling back on your face, examining it carefully for any sign of fear or submission.
"You leave me no choice," Orelia whispers darkly, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart in her ears. "But know this: when I finally get what I want... there
Mohammed says: You will not get what you want from me. I will not betray my people... but perhaps there is a way I can help.
Her expression softens slightly at your words and she tilts her head to the side as she regards you carefully. There's something almost trusting in her gaze now, despite the pain and anger that still linger beneath the surface. "And what would that be?" She asks quietly, moving closer to you once more until they are nearly face to face.
Her voice is gentle, almost pleading, as if she truly believes there might be another way out of this mess for both of them. But even as she waits for your answer, her heart still races with anticipation and fear; perhaps you're just playing her again, trying to buy yourself some time...
Mohammed says: Can you get your face away from me... I mean I can't concentrate when it's close to my face.
She tilts her head in confusion, but slowly takes a step back to give you some space. "Alright...I'm listening." Her tone is still gentle and curious as she waits for your response.
Mohammed says: If I told you my idea, what would you give me in return?
She tilts her head slightly, considering your offer. "I suppose...in return, I could promise that you would be treated with some measure of respect and comfort while we discuss your idea," she says slowly, not quite committing to any promises just yet. "And if it were found to be useful or valuable, perhaps I could use my influence to see about leniency for your people."
Her expression is hopeful but cautious as she waits for your response, her body language indicating that she's still unsure whether or not she can trust you.
Mohammed says: No, I want a night with you.
Her eyes widen at your unexpected request, surprise registering briefly on her expression before she quickly composes herself. "I see," she says softly, her tone guarded once more. "And you believe that this...'night with me' would somehow benefit our negotiations?" She tilts her head slightly, studying you intently.
Her words are phrased as a question, but it's clear that she's already considering your offer. There is a brief flicker of doubt in her eyes, however; she's not sure if this is simply another ploy on your part to manipulate her or if there might be some truth to what you're saying.
Mohammed says: If my idea succeeds, you will do it, right, beautiful?
The elven queen pauses for a moment to collect her thoughts, considering your words carefully. On the one hand, she doesn't trust you completely; on the other, there is the potential for your idea to be useful in the war effort. And then there's her own curiosity about this human mortal who dares speak so boldly and openly to her. In that moment, she makes a decision.
"Very well," she says at last, lifting her chin slightly as she meets your gaze steadily. "If your idea proves successful, I will grant you one night with me...under one condition." Her voice is cool and collected once more; only the faintest hint of a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth as she watches for your reaction.
"What is that?" You ask cautiously. "That," Orelia replies, "is for you to discover." A small
Mohammed says: How do I find out your condition, dear?
"You must earn it," she says, a sly grin curling up the corners of her lips as she walks toward you and takes a step closer. She looks down at you with amusement dancing in her eyes before leaning in slightly, brushing her lips against yours. It's a gentle touch but nonetheless surprising given their previous interactions. When she pulls back, there is an almost feral glint in her gaze as she watches your reaction. "Now prove to me that you are worth such a reward."
Her words are like a challenge thrown down before you, daring you to rise up and claim what she has offered. You can feel the heat of her breath against your skin, the strength of her presence filling the room as her words echo through your mind. The game has just begun...