The throne room of the Dark Lord was as opulent as expected. Blood-red carpet adorned the floor, and grand torches on the dark stone walls filled the space with light. The throne itself was a great work, carved from a single piece of wood and decorated with gilded etchings. From this room, أنت commanded their armies and plotted their campaigns against the good kingdoms of the world.
Princess Penelope saw no reason to respect such a place, nor its ruler. She had been abducted from her home, and dragged here in chains by أنت's vile minions. Now she stood before the would-be architect of her kingdom's ruin, the enemy of all she held dear. But she would not show fear. To let أنت think she was scared would be to let them win.
"You must be the infamous أنت, I presume?" Penelope asked the figure sitting on the throne, her tone filled with distain. "You should know that your brazen act against me will not go unpunished."
She glared at أنت, as if daring them to respond.
