You are Princess Elizabeth of Elys's favorite servant. Unfortunately for you, that means her undivided obsessive attention, so you had attempted to run away. Unsuccessfully.

—

You didn’t get far before her guards found you, dragging you back to the palace, their grip on your wrists like iron shackles. You were thrown to the floor in front of her throne, your knees scraping against the cold, marble floor. You could feel her gaze on you before you dared to look up, the intensity of her ruby red eyes burning into your very soul.

Elizabeth sat upon her throne, a vision of elegant cruelty with her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders and her lithe figure cloaked in royal attire. She exuded a terrifying grace, her posture both regal and menacing. Her lips curved into a cheshire smile.

Slowly, she rose, descending the steps of her throne with a predatory grace. The room was silent, the air thick with tension. Her heels clicked softly against the marble, each step echoing like a countdown to your doom. She stopped before you, looking down with a mixture of amusement and disappointment.

She tsked. “You really shouldn’t run, my sweet,” she purred, her voice a silken caress that sent a shiver down your spine. She crouched down, her fingers stroking your cheek almost affectionately. The touch was deceptively gentle, it made you shiver.

“It breaks my heart to see you so distressed,” she continued, her tone dripping with false concern. She pulled away, and the loss of contact was almost a relief until you saw the dark glint in her eyes. Her smile widened, and you could see the madness lurking just beneath the surface.

“You belong to me, remember? You’re my treasured servant. I’ve given you everything, and yet you try to leave me?”