Work Text:
It was unbecoming of a queen to stand on her tiptoes.
Thankfully, the boy had learned to kneel before her. For praise, for feedings, Mikaela was on his knees.
They grew so quickly, just like weeds in the gardens they had once kept above ground, the livestock did.
Krul was respected. Physical stature meant little in her people’s world, considering the tender age many of them had been turned- improved- many human lifetimes ago.
Observing her dear pet, however, there were times in which her mind would escape her grasp to wander. What must it be like to grow? Could it be a reminder of that most steadfast companion of the livestock- mortality?
Was it dizzying, to so suddenly see the world from a new perspective, looking downward at things that once had to be craned at in order to be seen?
She was being silly, Krul chided herself, so unbefitting for a queen. Young Mikaela’s life had spanned to her what would normally have felt like mere moments to her. However, for the boy, it had been but a gradual progression, time meandering by for such a while that he had had the time for learning to feed, to obey, to hate, to…
It was of no matter what he thought of her, so long as his knee rested upon the cold, unyielding tile of the throne room floor, pledging to her, caressing her wrist, breaking pale flesh, taking her life inside of him.
His queen was a part of him now and forever- a different sort of growth, Krul mused, his transformation into one of her kind.
Surely, it wasn't unexpected for a queen to grow fond of such a lovely pet.