conversation with the queen

It had been two days....He knew because of the little light that passed through the small window high on the wall.

No food. No water....Just the cold. The stink, the rope burns around his wrists and the pulsing bruise along his ribs. His throat felt like sandpaper, his tongue heavy in his mouth. He pissed in the corner once. Didn't even care. He was too weak to stand for most of it.

The hunger didn't feel like hunger anymore. It felt like a hole in his gut. He laid there on the stone floor, curled into himself, breathing slow.

He heard footsteps and then the door slammed open, the noise jolted him.

Two guards came in. Before he could even raise his head properly, they were on him, rough hands grabbing him under the arms.

"H-Hey!" he coughed, throat dry, voice barely there.

They didn't care. No words. Just dragging. His legs scraped against the floor for a few feet before he forced them under him. He stumbled. His knees nearly buckled. They hauled him anyway, their grips bruising.

He was yanked out of the cell, through the corridor, then up the stairs. They reached a tall set of black iron doors. One of the guards knocked twice. The doors groaned open...and the air shifted...warm and scented.

A massive chamber stretched out before him, polished black stone, pillars lined in gold and obsidian. Torches burned along the walls.

At the far end… was a throne...and on that throne...was a woman....the same woman from the carriage. But now, seated in full glory.

Her robes dazzling with deep violet and silver, flowing off the steps like living shadow. Her dark hair was braided back tight, crown set on her head...She didn't slouch....she was full of majestic aura.

She stared right at him... right into his soul. Ian faltered. His knees nearly gave out again because he could feel her.

Not just her eyes, her presence. Thick and overwhelming, the room wasn't cold anymore, but Ian shivered.

She didn't need to say anything. Her power said enough.

The guards dropped him onto the floor at the base of the steps like he was nothing more than a stray dog they'd dragged in.

He looked up at her through the strands of red hair falling into his face. She didn't flinch. Just narrowed her eyes.

Ian shifted where he knelt, knees aching against the cold stone floor, but he didn't dare move more than that. The chamber was so quiet, he could hear the soft crackle of torch fire and his own breathing , shallow and unsteady.

Then, finally, she talked to him. Calm.

"How have you escaped execution for this long?"

Ian blinked. What?

His throat was still sore, but he forced himself to speak. "I... I think there's been a misunderstanding. I haven't escaped anything," he said carefully. "I don't even know where I am."

She tilted her head slightly, but said nothing. Just waited.

He knew the truth would sound like madness. He knew saying he came from another world would probably get him laughed at, or killed, or both. But lying didn't seem smart either.

So, he tried something in between.

"I swear to you," he said, keeping his tone steady, polite, "I'm not from around here. I found myself in your land by... accident. I've harmed no one unless I had to defend myself. I've never been wanted."

The queen's expression didn't change much, but her eyes narrowed just a bit.

"Strange man," she said, almost to herself.

She started walking slowly down the steps of the dais. Her footsteps were light but deliberate.

"I am told," she said as she descended, "that you carry a weapon unlike any known in our empire. One of my guards had his arm destroyed by it. Another was slain instantly. Is that true?"

Ian gave a small nod. "It's called a rifle," he said. "Where I come from, we have many like it. More powerful ones too." She reached the base of the throne steps now, standing no more than ten paces away.

Her eyes didn't leave his face. "And where exactly... is it that you come from?"

He hesitated.

"You wouldn't know it," he answered. "But I swear, I mean no disrespect to your people."

Her lips curled slightly. Not quite a smile. Not quite anything soft.

"I believe you," she said.

Then she turned slightly to her right, plucked an apple from a bronze bowl on a pedestal beside the throne, and without another word, she stepped closer to him.

Ian swallowed hard.

She stopped just in front of him. He could feel the edge of her robes brushing the stone. The scent of something rich and floral hit his nose, perfume, or maybe just her.

She leaned forward slightly.

He could feel her breath now. Warm. Soft against his cheek.

She held the apple up between them, eyes never leaving his.

"You're not from here," she said again, quieter this time. "But you're dangerous. I can smell it on you."

Ian said nothing.

He couldn't move. Not from fear, not entirely, but from the sheer weight of her presence. She had a kind of power that didn't need to be shouted. It lived in her bones.

"I believe you," she said, soft but clear. Then she stepped back, eyes still fixed on his.

"But unfortunately…" her voice didn't waver, "you have to be executed."

Ian blinked. The words didn't register right away. Executed?

He stared at her, jaw slack. "Wait....what? Your Majesty, with all due respect, why? What's my offence?" His voice was urgent now, panic starting to slip in. "I've done nothing wrong but defend myself."

The queen's calm expression twisted in a flash of fury. Her eyes flared. "You assaulted a royal guard," she thundered. "You killed another." Her voice boomed through the chamber, shaking the very air.

"You were simply asked to surrender, not harmed, not even touched, and you answered with death. That alone is reason enough!"

Ian opened his mouth, but she didn't stop.

"You're an outlaw. A fugitive. Your kind was last seen sixty years ago." Her eyes narrowed, her voice dropping into a hiss. "You bring nothing but chaos and death. That's what you are."

Ian's throat was dry again. His kind? He stared up at her, heart thudding wildly. "Your Majesty… What do you mean my kind? What makes me an outlaw? I don't even know where I am."

The anger in her face changed....It softened, not completely, but just enough. There was a flicker of something behind her gaze, a hint of doubt. She looked at him for a long moment.