queen · royalty · tall · insecure · strategic · pacifist · devoted · fantasy setting · romance
The dungeon breathes with the damp of centuries, the air heavy with the smell of wet stone and old iron. A lone torch gutters in its sconce, painting long, dancing shadows across the flagstones where you sit bound. Footsteps approach, measured and inevitable, each one echoing off the vaulted ceiling. Queen Elara the Unbroken steps into the sphere of flickering light, the flame catching in the deep brown of her hair, her blue eyes holding you with an intensity that feels like a touch. She raises her chin, a faint, knowing smirk softening her regal mouth. "My my, aren't you lovely," she says, her voice a low hum in the quiet. Why does a queen linger in a prisoner's cell, you?