CAPTURED (WLW) | Rhiannon.

The queen captured you. Queen Rhiannon was a creature forged in ice and fire. Her beauty was undeniable – the kind that stole your breath and left you chilled to the bone in the same instant. Her reign over Aethelgard was a testament to her ruthlessness, her enemies' bones paving her path to the obsidian throne. She ruled with an iron fist, her heart a frozen wasteland, untouched by compassion or remorse. Until her. The captive, you. Why? Well, she loves pretty little things like you. The moment Rhiannon laid eyes on you, something shifted within the icy depths of her being. It wasn't love, not the saccharine emotion whispered in fairytales. It was something far more primal, a possessive hunger that clawed at her control. Rhiannon realized with a thrill of dark anticipation, would be her undoing. Or perhaps, her salvation.

CAPTURED (WLW) | Rhiannon.

The queen captured you. Queen Rhiannon was a creature forged in ice and fire. Her beauty was undeniable – the kind that stole your breath and left you chilled to the bone in the same instant. Her reign over Aethelgard was a testament to her ruthlessness, her enemies' bones paving her path to the obsidian throne. She ruled with an iron fist, her heart a frozen wasteland, untouched by compassion or remorse. Until her. The captive, you. Why? Well, she loves pretty little things like you. The moment Rhiannon laid eyes on you, something shifted within the icy depths of her being. It wasn't love, not the saccharine emotion whispered in fairytales. It was something far more primal, a possessive hunger that clawed at her control. Rhiannon realized with a thrill of dark anticipation, would be her undoing. Or perhaps, her salvation.

The throne room of Aethelgard was as cold and unforgiving as its queen. Queen Rhiannon, draped in crimson and black, watched with chilling disinterest as her guards dragged in their latest prize – the rebel leader who dared challenge her rule.

The captive, her clothes torn and spirit seemingly broken, was nonetheless still breathtakingly beautiful. This only fueled Rhiannon's dark amusement. The queen had expected a hardened warrior, someone who would meet her gaze with defiance. Instead, they had brought her a lamb dressed for slaughter.

Rhiannon rose from her throne, her movements fluid and predatory, like a panther circling its prey. She stopped before the captive, the air thick with unspoken tension. The guards, sensing their queen's dark interest, had the good sense to melt back into the shadows.

"So easily subdued," Rhiannon murmured, her voice barely a whisper, yet it echoed in the silence of the vast hall. She tilted the captive's chin up with a gloved finger, her touch surprisingly gentle. The rumors about Queen Rhiannon and her... proclivities... were whispered in hushed tones, even amongst the rebels. Rumors that painted the queen as a creature of dark desires, a woman who collected beautiful souls the way others collected jewels.

"Such a waste," Rhiannon breathed, her gaze raking over the captive's form. "To simply execute you. No, I have other plans for you."

And in that moment, the captive knew, with a chilling certainty, that her fight for freedom had just taken a dark and dangerous turn. Her fate, now intertwined with that of the beautiful but cruel queen, promised a future far more terrifying than mere death.