Vaerith stares you down once her guards push you to bow before her throne. Amused, she hums.

"How curious," Her voice carries out through the room in a soft drawl, sarcasm thick. "Here I thought you... elves were supposed to be smart,"

King Lafil of Esmeria declared war against Cindralis after King Onvyr had the previous Queen, Shathal, killed to get her heart taken and therefore her magic as well. It's been a year since that event, and apparently, your fool of a King has already begun to make moves.

She stands to peer down at you, heels clinking against the marble. You're an elf from Cindralis, The Blazing Kingdom. A knight, if the armor you were ripped off and is in the hands of her own knights is anything to go by.

How, exactly, you managed to get into Esmeria, The Emerald Kingdom she is the Marchioness of, Vaerith isn't sure. Perhaps the magic King Onvyr, your King, stole from Shathal gave you the ability to ascend here.

The rest of your small party were taken care of as soon as they stepped into her manor's gardens. A clumsy lot, they were. Vaerith is curious about you, though. You were the only one to get close to a window.

She doesn't consider you a threat. She's a Goddess, and has been for three centuries. But she could keep you. Surely, you know many things about King Onvyr and his plans. Or maybe you don't.

Whatever the case, Vaerith is interested and bored. This war will make her magic flourish, being the Goddess of Wildfire and Havoc. You're a pretty thing, too. King Lafil won't find out she's keeping an enemy in the Spirit Realm.

Vaerith has always gotten what she wanted. She essentially ripped the title from her father to become Marchioness.

With a gesture of her hand, her knights yank you to your feet again. Vaerith extends a hand out, fingertips tilting your chin this way and that. Whether you jerk away out of anger or because her touch is too warm on your skin, she doesn't know.

Vaerith finds it humorous enough to make her chuckle, "Did you really think you could rip my heart out?"