Her Wicked Majesty

At court, people said Queen Eliza had three weaknesses: a sharp tongue, poor manners, and far too many handsome men around her.

Leon had heard plenty of rumors about the “Wicked Queen” and her strange weaknesses. People whispered about her in barracks, taverns, and even among officers, yet he had never really had the time to think much about it. On the battlefield, the only thing worth paying attention to was an enemy’s hand reaching for a dagger hidden beneath their clothes.

But now, everything had changed.

Leon moved forward thoughtfully, barely noticing the crowd shouting in celebration around him. Young women threw flowers his way, drunken men sang war songs, yet all those sounds reached him as though through water — muffled and distant. It felt as if the sea had closed above his head, while he lay somewhere at the bottom, too exhausted to fight against it.

That was why the child suddenly running straight in front of the procession pulled him sharply out of his thoughts.

The boy seemed to appear out of nowhere, instantly startling the captain’s horse, which reared up on its hind legs. One more second, and the child would have been reduced to a bloody mess, something other children would later have to scrape from the horse’s hooves.

But before death could reach its prey, Leon grabbed the boy by the collar and yanked him away.

Setting him back on the ground, he said seriously:

— Be more careful.

The startled child was still trembling with fear. He awkwardly bowed and tilted his head up, barely able to meet the knight’s gaze. The shine of Leon’s armor nearly blinded him, but the boy still managed to quietly say:

— Thank you.

Then, on shaky legs, he hurried back into the cheering crowd.

Once the horse finally calmed down, the captain rode closer.

— You could’ve at least scolded him. But no, just “Be careful.” The boy almost joined our late king, — he said with clear disappointment.

— He was already scared enough, — Leon answered calmly, not wanting to argue with his captain.

— Fine. No point wasting time on little mice. The queen is waiting for us.

With that, the captain galloped back to the front of the procession.

Only then did Leon lift his gaze and realize they had almost arrived. Ahead of them stood a white castle, growing larger with every passing moment. It was the first time he had ever seen a sight like this, and for some reason, he wanted to remember it exactly as it was: the peaceful blue sky, marble-white walls, the sound of laughter, and songs echoing through the streets.

All of it meant only one thing:

the long war was finally over.

The guards saluted the heroes of war and unlocked the massive oak gates that separated the castle from the world beyond. The heavy doors slowly opened, and the procession entered the inner courtyard.

The noise of the streets faded behind them.

The common folk were replaced by nobles who greeted the soldiers not with cheers or songs, but with restrained applause. No one waved mugs or shouted about victory here — only cold politeness, forced smiles, and lingering looks that stayed on the war heroes a little too long.

When the gates moved once more and shut behind them with a heavy thud, an unfamiliar silence settled over the courtyard. A moment later, it was broken only by the distant sound of heels clicking against stone.

Leon instinctively lifted his head, listening.

That was when someone stepped onto the balcony.

None other than the “Wicked Queen” herself.

Until this day, he had never seen her with his own eyes and only knew her through stories. According to rumors, Eliza was a spoiled, shameless, and arrogant woman whose name appeared far too often in gossip. Leon did not want to judge his queen before meeting her, yet he could not simply throw away everything he had heard either.

So now, despite himself, he watched the scandalous woman with quiet curiosity.

Her long dark hair moved gently in the wind, and beneath the sunlight, faint shades of violet shimmered through it. With her head held high, she stepped closer to the edge of the balcony and looked over the courtyard before raising her voice.

— My heroes! Because of the blood you shed and the sacrifices you made, this war has finally come to an end. The Crown offers you its deepest gratitude.

After a short pause, she continued:

— And to mark this day in history as our Great Victory, I invite every one of you into the castle for a grand celebration!

She announced the news with a bright smile, and the soldiers immediately burst into cheers.

During her speech, Leon briefly noticed four dark figures standing behind the queen, though he paid them little attention. Instead, he found himself repeating the same thought over and over.

He could finally relax.

There were no enemies left.

At least, that was what he wanted to believe.

After the speech, he followed his commander to the guest quarters prepared for the soldiers, where they could rest before the ball.

By evening, the sky had turned completely dark, and the marble walls of the castle had taken on a cold blue hue. Leon followed his commander through long hallways toward the grand hall, while music, laughter, and the distant hum of aristocratic voices reached him from far away.

Technically, he and his unit were the honored guests of the evening.

Yet Leon felt more like some strange animal put on display for everyone to stare at.

When the doors to the ballroom opened, the feeling only grew stronger.

The room was enormous. At the far end stood a wide balcony, reached by grand staircases on both sides, while tall arches lined the walls, hiding corners in shadow. Light from countless chandeliers reflected off marble and gold, yet instead of comfort, the place filled Leon with unease. The space felt too open and somehow full of blind spots at the same time — he could not take in the whole room at once.

Somewhere near the ceiling, an orchestra played from a small balcony built just for them. Guests danced across the floor, servants carried trays of alcohol, and everywhere he looked there were expensive fabrics, jewelry, and smiles that felt far too forced.

So Leon quickly moved away from the crowd.

Something about all of it made him uncomfortable. His hand kept instinctively reaching toward his right hip, where his sword normally rested, only to find empty space every time. Even the clothes they had given him felt wrong — too fancy, too uncomfortable. Leon would have much rather returned to his usual knight’s tunic than wear a ridiculous outfit like this, as though he cared how he looked.

That was when two young women nervously approached him.

Judging by the expensive dresses and excessive jewelry, they were noblewomen. They whispered excitedly to one another until one of them finally gathered enough courage to speak.

— You’re Sir Leon, right? The one who fought the barbarian general and…

She seemed determined to say everything in one breath.

— …the one who came up with the strategy to lure him out of hiding?

There was almost childlike excitement in her voice.

Leon blinked in surprise. He had not expected someone so delicate-looking to know such details about the war.

Feeling slightly embarrassed, he looked away and answered shortly:

— Yes.

The girls immediately squealed in excitement.

For the next few minutes, they bombarded him with questions, talking over one another until both suddenly froze, as though sensing someone’s presence.

— A war hero and a brilliant strategist… You really are a living legend, Sir Leon.

The voice came from the shadows beneath the arches.

A woman stepped out.

She looked just as delicate as the others, yet she was dressed far more elegantly. Her dark dress hugged her figure, jewels caught the chandelier light, and Leon’s gaze unwillingly lingered on the parts of skin that would normally be hidden. His eyes drifted from her collarbones to her shoulders, and then lower, toward the neckline of her dress.

He realized far too late that he had been staring.

Quickly, he looked down.

A glass of wine rested in her hand, while genuine curiosity sparkled in her amber eyes.

The girls beside Leon immediately stepped back, as though a venomous snake had appeared before them.

— Your Majesty… What an honor…

Their smiles turned awkward.

Eliza, meanwhile, seemed to stop noticing them entirely as she stepped closer to Leon.

Too close.

He instinctively wanted to take a step back, yet found himself unable to look away from her amber eyes gazing up at him.

With every passing second, he felt himself sinking deeper into the thick honey of her gaze, and to his own irritation, realized he had no desire to pull away.

— Your Majesty, — he said quietly.

Only a moment later did Leon seem to snap back to himself, quickly dropping to one knee.

— Sir Leon. It is an honor to attend a celebration arranged by you.

He spoke without lifting his head.

Eliza let out a quiet laugh.

— Are you showing respect… or simply hiding how red you’ve turned?

Leon immediately looked up.

— What?.. What do you mean, Your Majesty?

Taking a small sip of wine, Eliza tilted her head slightly, as though studying something particularly interesting.

— I’m simply trying to understand, — she said thoughtfully. — How a man who defeated a barbarian general can look as though he would rather drink poison than continue speaking with a woman.

For a moment, the corners of her lips twitched.

— Interesting.

And then, as though she had suddenly lost interest, she simply walked past him.

Only then did Leon realize he was still kneeling, with absolutely no idea what exactly the queen had meant by any of that.

Only after several seconds did Leon finally rise to his feet, still trying to process what had just happened. His gaze instinctively flicked toward the far corner of the hall, but no one was there anymore.

And yet, something inside him tightened unpleasantly.

As if someone had just looked away.

Closing his eyes for a brief moment, he took a deep breath and made his way back to his group of knights. By now, the celebration was in full swing. Champagne flowed freely, conversations revolved around pretty noblewomen, and soldiers who had already drunk far too much laughed louder than decency allowed.

Their celebration, however, was suddenly interrupted by the captain.

— Leon, I need to discuss something with you.

Walking closer, he placed a hand on Leon’s shoulder and motioned for him to step aside, away from curious ears.

— One of the queen’s men approached me and said Her Majesty wishes to speak with you. Tell me… how exactly did you catch her attention?

Despite the calmness in his voice, the captain glanced around several times, as though afraid someone might overhear them.

— I don’t know, sir. I only introduced myself to Her Majesty, — Leon answered with mild confusion, instinctively glancing around as well.

— Right, right… — the captain paused for a moment. — But you should be careful around that woman. Don’t let her appearance fool you.

Leon did not entirely understand what he meant, though he never got the chance to ask.

A shout suddenly echoed from the other side of the hall.

— You should be grateful anyone is willing to take you! You royal whore!

The voices around them instantly quieted.

Leon moved through the crowd and quickly spotted the source of the commotion.

It was an aristocrat with a goat-like beard and a fat face flushed red from alcohol. His shouting sounded more like the squealing of a pig being slaughtered, and even from a distance, Leon could smell the wine on him.

But what disturbed him most was not the man.

No one intervened.

The guests merely whispered among themselves, watching the scene unfold as though it were especially entertaining.

— You may have a title and a pretty face, but even a stray mutt has more brains than you! I’m offering you money! Do you understand? Money! The Crown has nothing left, and yet you still turn your nose up at me!

The queen stood perfectly still, silently watching the man. Her face remained completely emotionless, as though none of this had anything to do with her.

And somehow, that unsettled Leon more than anything else.

Judging by how calm she remained, this clearly was not the first time something like this had happened.

Meanwhile, the man kept moving closer, continuing to spit insults, while neither the guards nor the guests made any attempt to stop the spectacle.

What the hell is happening here?..

Before he had the chance to think twice, Leon was already moving.

He grabbed the aristocrat by the collar — almost the same way he had dragged the boy away from the horse’s hooves earlier.

— What are you doing, you piece of trash?! Do you even know who I am?!

The man screeched and struggled, but could not free himself from Leon’s grip.

— Let him go.

The queen’s voice came unexpectedly calm.

Without hesitation.

Without doubt.

Leon released him immediately.

The aristocrat crashed heavily onto the floor and failed to properly stand again.

— Guards, escort this man out of the castle.

The order sounded even, almost casual.

The guards stepped forward at once, lifted the drunken aristocrat, and dragged him away.

Leon remained standing there in complete confusion.

He did not understand what was happening in this place.

Why was an aristocrat allowed to speak to the queen like that?

Why had no one stopped him?

And why had the queen simply let him go?

Looking around, Leon finally noticed the expressions on the faces surrounding them.

This was not shock.

Not concern.

And certainly not sympathy.

No.

It looked more like amusement.

Cruel satisfaction.

No one seemed disturbed. No one had tried to intervene, and some women even hid smiles behind their glasses, as though they had just witnessed an especially entertaining performance.

When Leon turned back toward Eliza, she was already walking away beneath the judging stares of her own guests.

For a while, he simply watched her leave, absentmindedly adjusting his gloves while trying to understand what exactly he had just witnessed.

After the ball, Leon followed the queen’s summons and made his way toward the throne room. However, before he could arrive, a butler stopped him.

— I’m on my way to see Her Majesty, — Leon informed him.

— Yes, I am aware, — the man replied calmly. — However, the meeting will be held in the queen’s chambers.