Grovel Before Your Queen




In the heart of the gilded hall, the Elven Queen lounged upon her golden throne, one elegant leg crossed over the other. Her pale, perfect feet rested just inches from the marble floor, toes flexing with quiet authority as the hem of her regal red dress spilled around her like liquid fire.
She tilted her head, long blonde hair cascading over one shoulder, and fixed her piercing blue eyes on the kneeling figure before her. A mischievous smirk curved her lips.
“Grovel before your Queen, you lowly human.”
The command hung in the air, soft yet absolute—an invitation and a warning all at once.


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