Killua's Queen

Don't Make Me Feel Small

Y/N's P.O.V.

It started with a click, like the sound of death entering the room. Then, I realized it was the knocking of hooves against the floor, ringing in my skull, coming closer and closer. Emerging from the giant entrance to the left were skeleton horses, their bones a rusted yellow. I had never seen anything like those creatures, resembling phantoms. They couldn't be real, I thought. Couldn't be. Perhaps even more frightening were the warriors mounting them, fierce and solemn-faced. Their skin was a rich shade of the night, intricate patterns and symbols permanently etched on it. The males were shirtless, all bulk and well-toned muscles.

As the last of them came out, my breath caught at the sight of what came after. People, stark naked, men and women, followed behind the warriors. Their wrists and ankles were wrapped in chains that rattled and kissed the floor. “They're—”

“—prisoners.” The queen interrupted me, a smugness swimming in her tone. “I saved them just for today's special event. For you.”

“What?” My trembling voice betrayed me and I cursed myself for it. I could feel my heart pounding like a stick on a drum, each beat a loud wake up call. “What do you mean, exactly?”

The queen's eyes widened in delight, and she touched one finger to her shiny, bright red lips. “Tell me, do you think you can save them?” I stared at her, unblinking. Save them?

“I can try.” I say, a numbness taking over. “But why are you doing this?”

“Because, ” Her hand suddenly gripped my arm, nails digging into my skin like tiny needles. A crack sound is followed by a whimper of war, and next thing I know, my arm is broken, bone dislocated. “It's fun.”

The pain sweeps through my veins and I bite my lip so hard blood drips down my chin. It burns, it burns, it burns! My knees hit the ground and I drop my head, surrendering to the ache. “You're a lunatic!” I grit through my teeth, shaking uncontrollably. “You're a monster!”

But her laugh doesn't stop. It never stops.

“Get up.” She says, serious now. “You look pathetic. Hurry up. You have an audience.”

I spit at her feet, “Go to hell.”

“Oh?” The queen murmurs. “What a foul mouth. Fine, I guess those prisoners can just . . . die.”

Huh?

“You have a choice—get up, play, and possibly save them, or stay on the ground and watch yourself cease with them. Your choice, princess. But make it quick.”

This, I realized, was no longer about the prince or me or my family or my name. It was between life and death. Survival.

Emmarie's P.O.V.

“This just got more interesting,” Scarlett comments next to me, her wine eyes focused on the broken princess on the ground, her puffy seafoam dress around her. “Don't you agree?”

“Precisely, ” I reply. “Teaching a rookie a lesson. Weaklings deserve—”

“—no mercy.” My partner finishes for me, squaring her shoulders.

“You got it.” But the truth was the opposite. We, the ones on the other side of the chess board, were the weak ones. Cowards, hiding behind rank and power. I scanned the crowd for a specific face and stopped when I caught Torin's eyes. We exchanged a telepathic message and he shrugged in the end as if to say: let it play out. It's not like we can even do anything right now. If we were to intervene, we'd have to pay for it. Let's wait.