Tighter and tighter the man gripped his spear, as if it would keep him more firmly rooted to the world. He held his breath securely in his chest, worried any exhale might alert the beast stalking him. The sweat rolling down his brow was worrisome - should it fall too loudly, he would be found. With each passing moment he could hear it stomping closer towards him, its harsh footfalls resounding so loudly through the gargantuan building's halls that the painting across from him shook wildly on the nail used to hold it to the wall. On that painting, the royal family he had protected without fail for a decade smiled warmly back at him. King Trinas and his lovely wife, Queen Marianne, along with their three young children, were so picturesque they seemed ready to jump out of the frame then and there. His queen's smile was especially comforting, holding him for hours at attention while on duty.
The man perked up even more as those footfalls drew violently close. He puffed out his chest and strained his spine for maximum size. His entire form went rigid as iron to the point no military commander in the kingdom would ever find flaw with his appearance. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a dark shadow looming around the corner, a sinister scowl sewn upon it. He only ever faltered slightly when the being casting that shadow rounded the corner, and that sinister scowl grew exponentially more terrifying. Finally, a gulp fell down his gullet - the first sound he had made in countless minutes.
Blonde hair bounced erratically behind her as the woman stomped forward, holding up the hem of her skirted dress as to not trip over it. She had clearly lost her shoes a few floors ago, given how her barren soles were being beaten directly into the ground. The normally-beautiful lady was now wearing a mask of vile, putrid hatred - exemplified by the red, pulsating eyes and jaw locked so tight not even an ogre could pry it open. Veins like tendrils travelled across her forehead, nearly rupturing with each step she took. They bulged out even more when two unsuspecting servants came out of a doorway in front of her, staring at her stupidly as she approached.
"MOVE! MOVE! GET THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY!"
Queen Marianne shrieked at them, causing the pair to take shelter next to a palace guard so still he could have been a statue. The three cowered with fear as she passed, finally knocking a painting of her own family off the wall as she did so. Glass which once protected her family's image crinkled across the ground. Marianne pressed on, undaunted.
She cursed herself under her breath for allowing the castle to be built to such a scale. The woman promised to have it torn down and replaced with a miniature after this was over. Bringing herself all the way down from her chambers to the throne room was far too laborious of a task this moment. Only minutes ago she was wasting away, staring out the window in deathly silence as she had done for days on end by now. Under her orders, no one was to disturb her. Even her own husband and children were hesitant to approach. This cumulative effect came to a head when a servant finally burst into her room, sweating so profusely he looked as he were melting. Marianne stared at him from across the room, unnerved and insulted by his intrusion - yet the look in his eye told her the news she had been waiting weeks to hear. The man had not even spoken as she rushed past him, pounding down the endless stairs.
Two guards stood at the end of the hall now as the force of nature citizens bent their knee to approached them. Four eyes bulged out at her as she scowled at them. They could barely bring themselves to open the massive double doors to the throne room, and so the queen was forced to shove the wooden slabs open by herself. A few dozen head turned in her direction from what they were doing, be it eating or conversing or simply standing guard, she had the entire throne room's attention - including two people at the far end.
The sight of them caused Marianne to create tight balls with her fists. The first half of the pair, a tall, imposing guardsman with a thick lock of black, unkempt facial hair and a gloating grin set upon his cheeks, held his chin up so high it was in the clouds. Dark, beady eyes reminded the queen of her husband's own, but she found no comfort in this. Armor which coated the man neck to toe gleamed brightly under the morning sunlight coming through the painted glass above the thrones behind her.
It was the other half of the pair, however, that genuinely sent Marianne straight over the edge. Yet it wasn't the girl's appearance, from her freshly-washed hair to her flawless, nearly painted face to the dress she now wore, which barely was able to contain her bountiful chest yet coated the rest of her form with ease. No, instead it was the
expression
the young woman wore - that of pain and discomfort of how the guard standing next to her was holding her forearm with such force her fingers were stark white. Marianne saw red.
His chin was raised even higher into the sky as his queen approached. "Good morning, my queen. I hope..."
"GET YOUR GODDAMN HANDS OFF HER!"
her voice locked shut the man's jaw, along with the rest of the room. Even the little lady's eyes bulged.
His vision rapidly darted between the queen and the elf he held, the heart in his chest pounding away as Marianne drew ever nearer. "B-but my queen... I don't understand... is this not the woman you were searching for...?"
"I said take your damn hands off her! I will not say it again!"
she growled, a bit quieter than before as she neared him. As if the elf had heated up to oven-like temperatures, the guard immediately retracted his hand and rubbed it tenderly with his other paw. That cocky demeanor of his sank straight into the floor as he took a few steps back.
He gulped loudly, "I... I do not understand, m-my queen... your instructions were for us to bring this woman here... she walked right up to us this morning and turned herself in. We nearly fought over who would bring her to you... s-so we chose to equally share the reward for her capture..."
"Your reward will be to keep your miserable head on your shoulders! Get the hell out of my sight!"
her voice resounded off the throne room walls. The guard went pale as the elf's flesh, and the two of them locked eyes. Genuinely fearing for his life at his once-pleasant queen's threat, he turned around rapidly and rushed out of the room with his tail between his legs. Marianne watched him go until the doors shut loudly behind his back, then turned her attention to the elf. Her laborious exercise caught up to the queen, and she heaved heavily in the center of her own throne room.
Her blue eyes fell down to the little woman, who was watching her intently, yet silently. Marianne studied her, grateful to see her skin was still unblemished, at least as far as her head and hands went. Everything else was covered by a dress someone had clearly stuffed her in - yet it still creaked around her generous body. Every few moments the elf would visibly shake in terror, though she seemed as if she were trying her best to contain it. The queen could feel dozens of eyes staring at them, their visions waiting with bated breath.
Marianne upturned her nose. "Out," she exhaled. The word had barely left her mouth when people shot out of their chairs or simply started scurrying like insects, flanking out of the room until the two women were alone. Fiery red eyes darted about, disturbed at how much influence the queen carried. She looked at Marianne and the queen looked at her. Both heavily breathed a bit. Finally, for the first time in weeks, a smile stretched across the queen's face and she tilted her head lovingly.
"Zenna..."
