Queen of Nothing [Erasmus][TBTP]

As if etched into the stone itself Erasmus sat in his throne, still as an undisturbed pool of water. Hidden in the shadow of his own seat of power he dozed, the moon at his back cascading it's watchful light upon him as it hung in the air and continued it's perpetual crescent laugh. Though slumped and seemingly inattentive the King could feel the anger marching towards him, the cracks in the surface of the mirror leaking an uncertainty that threatened to shatter the frame and send glittering shards tumbling to the ground. As Broken as he was he found it surprising that such a mundane soul could be so fracture and yet so irrevocably unimportant. Perhaps it was the deeply rooted Obsession, screaming at him as a banshee screams at it's victims from beyond the wall of the night, that kept the entire thing together. But, Erasmus recognized, it was that same desire that instilled a desperate sense of determination in the soul, one that was self-destructive and of no use to anybody. 

He knew what this person wanted before she'd even reached the door to the throne room, it may as well have been wrought in bright flashing neon everywhere she went. Cheshire held an ambition beyond her reach and when mans grasp extended beyond the length of his arm things began to break in the most horrible ways, as the small woman was about to discover.

Flying open with a huge thundering boom of a crash the doors slammed into the walls beside them, unsettling dust and debris from the crevices of the throne rooms ceiling. From the other side of the room it was difficult to make out the woman's features as the King opened his eyes. No effort was made to close the distance on his part, no polite standing welcome as he would have done with other guests. This woman was a challenger and she would have to settle for such rudeness. Even the shrill shriek of his name couldn't cow the man. How could anything this woman did be intimidating? She was weak. She was an unknown. Only a Numeros, a glorified servant, there was no place for her yet in the politics of Las Noches. And yet she was trying to force her way in, there was some merit to that initiative and, as she marched toward him Erasmus changed his mind and stood for his new guest.

Rising like a shadow under the setting sun Obsession left his chair, slowly and deliberately, as if he had been fused to it at some point. Still silhouetted by the light of the moon, his cold calculating stare hidden by the shadows draped around him, Erasmus pondered what to do with the insolent youth. She definitely had character, it was hard to justify snuffing out Hollow and Arrancar with such raw unbridled potential, but leaving her alive would tell the other mouths slavering over the throne that they could get away with an attempt of their own and Erasmus didn't have the time to deal with all of them. He barely listened to the woman's senseless frightened bleating as he thought, though the line about tearing it from his fingers amused him enough to spark awareness.

Through the Sight he peered at, into, and through the young woman standing below the dais of the throne and saw everything that made her who she was. A terrified, nervous, needy little thing with low self-esteem all wrapped up and tucked away by the facade of a woman in control of others if not her own life. Desperate to prove that she was worth more than just the men she could force to obsess over her and sharp bites of self-hate. It seemed almost bullying to crush such a creature. 

She had finished speaking by now and was waiting for his reply, something that Erasmus was deliberately not giving to her as he made his decision. Perhaps it would be better to prove to her that this was not the way to achieve what her soul truly yearned for, then it could never be said that Erasmus didn't deal with challengers lightly and he'd be able to avoid snuffing out her potential altogether. The clincher was that she had to be willing to learn, but then if she wasn't (or couldn't) then perhaps she was never worth the effort in the first place.

Finally, after a long pregnant pause, the King descended the stairs of the throne, the hem of his jacket nipping at his heels as they thumped at each step. Sparse wrinkles lined the creases of his face, the lines of a man at the very center of his life span, experiencing imparting him with a stern and intelligent shrewdness. Silver hair fell about his head like the mane of an ancient lion and his eyes, green as emeralds, were fixed upon the stairs he traversed, rising up to the woman only when he had reached the bottom and was now clearly lit by the moon.

"Very well." Was all he said, walking to the side of the dais and allowing Cheshire free passage to the throne with an open palm and a nod of his head.

"Take it."

[Words: 874][Total Words: 874]

Her eyes focused enough in the sullen light to make out his standing frame when he ever so graciously found the time to finally address her. Her fist had drawn back as if coiling to eventualy spring out the punch that would send her Bala flying, the gunshot at the start of the race. It would, from that point, be one, she knew. He was powerful-- but Nazomi had been so and she had lived through him. She doubted this man could be any stronger than that, and she had claimed quite a bit of power for herself from that fight. She was fast in her own right, as well, and had her wit on her side. No creature that would claim itself as King with her existence as bright as it was could argue much intelligence.

This time, too, she came with the intent to kill from the start. She wasn't dancing around the issue, and she definitely wasn't wasting her time fighting for someone else. This strength would be hers and hers alone; she'd make her own damn light. A lavender mist as fragrant as its color tinged the room with its expanse, weighing heavy on the stones and failing to reflect the stark severity of her demand here. After the initial outburst it had mellowed into a seeping, crawling fog, just as dangerous but significantly more subtle with its treachery.

It truly did reflect her soul.

One hand preoccupied with the gathering of her energy, her other crested her blade and wrapped steady fingers around its handle. Should she release now, at the starting line, or wait to a point where his exhaustion began to show and throw out everything at once? And exhaust him she could do, if nothing else. There was no way he'd be able to keep up with her; and she had waited such a long thirty nine years for this opportunity that a few more hours of running him into the ground would be worth her patience. Thirty nine years...

I remember you, Erasmus, she wanted to say. When you first marched into these walls as a new Arrancar. I saw you as the Primera for a time. I saw your rise with Severance's fall. I've been here for it all. Watching, waiting, I've been here. But I will just 'be here' no longer. This is my time. This is my stand.

This is your end, she'd finish, and lunge. Could he see it in her eyes? In the burning of her spirit? She hadn't wished to ruin the careful silence, however, and gave him the chance to beg for her mercy.

What he had done had been dubious, there were very few monarchical successions that did not end in bloodshed in the history of Hollow-kind, especially when the would-be successor still had the King or Queen sitting in the throne they so jealously coveted. For Erasmus to willingly step aside and allow another to sit in his rightful place not only spat in the face of Hollow tradition it was a sign or personal weakness. Cheshire was right to suspect trickery. The weight of her reiatsu told him that she was still on guard for some kind of retaliation from her King, but he chose silence when she questioned his actions and played the part of a servant; always there ready to serve, never mincing words and never out of place. His only response was a dip of his head, a physical gesture of deference. As a servant he'd been asked a yes or no question and must answer with an equally simple retort.

Feeling the rapid beating of her heart, the way her lungs shakily expanded and deflated, even the tiny vibrations of her eyes flicking back and forth between him and the throne,. Everything she felt and did was known to him and when she was at her peak he'd use it to rip her from it.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her booted heel hit the first step of the dais, the temptation of the throne so much greater to her than the threat she had seen in Erasmus.It was almost sad that her lust for the throne could be sourced not from a desire for power, but a so far unfed hunger to be recognized and cherished. Erasmus knew all too well that being King did not make you a cherished individual. Recognized, perhaps, but not since the first King had a monarch truly been liked by the majority. Cheshire was just a child grasping at straws and children need to be educated. 

When the laughter began Erasmus rose his head and extended his hand out into the air, flicking his fingers at something that lurked within the shadows of the throne room. Noting his signal a small group of servants rushed towards the gaping doors, careful not to cross the floor directly and instead lining the walls, and slowly pushed the gargantuan slabs of stone back into place. The Queen had not ordered this to be done, a fact that Erasmus was sure would not escape Cheshire even in her euphoric glee at having taken what she believed was rightfully hers. Before she could rise and unleash her infant displeasure at the servants Erasmus turned on his heel so that he was facing the throne, the full glare of the moons light etching the lines of his face even deeper. There was nothing there in his expression that declared anything but subservience, a blank eyed neutral face that commonly arose with the position as thinking was not a required skill, only obeying. 

Despite this the weight of what he had just done hung heavy in the air. He had commanded servants that were supposed to be hers. There were no advisers in the Las Noches monarchy and without the crown Erasmus was nothing, not even an Espada, yet he had been obeyed. If ever there was a time for Cheshire to realize her mistake it was now, though there was very little she could do about it.

"My Queen." He addressed her with dangerous subservience, a cruel glint in his emerald eyes. "Now that you have the throne what will you be doing about our lack of military might?" 

[Words: 608][Total: 1482]

She didn't care that there was no response to her order, even as the echo of her power ebbed away and trickled back into the silence. It would come in due time; all of it would. Soon, this hall would be filled with those who had nothing but adoration for her in their eyes. They would fall to their knees and they would worship her, they would-- love her.

She sat proudly upon that throne, her throne, and the Queen began her reign. This sort of immoral euphoria could never have truly lasted, though.

Her sight refocused on the scene before her, a slow drawl of confusion in her eyes with Erasmus' motion and the subsequent shuffling she could hear along the sides of her corridor. "Just what--" She started, the way her body began to rise akin to a statue coming alive and learning how to move for the first time. She hadn't even made it all the way upright before the doors creaked shut, leaving her trapped-- no, that couldn't be right, this is exactly where she wanted to be-- in this room with its dimly lit by moonlight stone and the man towering in her vision. Her lips stretched in an unkindly sneer, immaculate eyebrows narrowing and shading eyes that had begun to slit.

"What in My name do you think you are doing, creature?", she hissed, refusing to be cowed by him standing her down; caring little for the guise of a servant he wore. Did he not think her accustomed to masks of her own? No matter what expression you wore to appease another, there was always that hint of something in your eyes-- a little spark of black in their depths. "You do not command my--"


Was he questioning her? What sort of game was he playing? She did not care for his approach, and even less so the way he looked at her. It made her feel... exposed, and her thoughts briefly returned to Takua. She had grown much since that meeting, however, and would not find herself losing ground now. She was seated on her throne, in her kingdom, and this thing wished to pry at her thoughts? A hand lifted to her forehead as if in exasperation, that ugly sneer not leaving her face even as began to answer him. She wanted to dismiss him, but if nothing else she felt that wouldn't have the intended effect.

She had never lost a game she had played. If he wished to partake in cat and mouse, she would indulge him. After all-- what could possibly go wrong, now that she was here? Now that she was Queen, truly, totally? A sigh broke the pregnant silence, head tilted to the side on her palm while she looked at him with boredom muddying her features. "Very well," she started. She'd get him for his insubordination later, and she would enjoy every second of the agony she clawed into his skin. "You say we lack in military might, but I find a sea of Hollow at every section of this endless desert my gaze falls upon. Are you telling me we do not have the resources to wrangle them under our control? Are you saying we do not have the incentive, or the power? With how many Arrancar roam these walls, you tell me we are under-protected? Even within this dome of Las Noches?" To the benefit of his doubt, however, she did briefly remember the occupation of Las Noches that happened awhile back; an event she had very carefully avoided. "Our army is infinite and ever-expanding. Mindless beasts or not, the Hollow have their brute strength to back our endeavors and there will never be a lack of them. The Adjuchas would likely give us the most trouble, and I would approach any Vasto Lorde carefully, but in the wake of a promise for power; who could truly deny us?"

"Though I cannot blame you for your outlook. The last few that preceded this throne hardly did anything worth note with their position," she sighed, ready to move on. That could be taken as a jab at him, but with the idle way she even bothered paying attention to the situation it was impossible to find any venom within her tone.

And why did  it even matter, really? Everything was already starting to fall into place. The people would serve her because she willed it; the people would fight for her because she willed it. She was born to rule. She was born to be here. She was born to watch them all grovel at her feet and beg for her love.

For her approval.

For her desire.

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Normally a woman of unparalleled control Cheshire's signs of annoyance were obvious to the true monarch of Las Noches. He'd already witnessed the efforts she'd gone through to hide her true feelings from others by perusing her memories and it was by watching her facial expressions that he could gauge how much of an effect his actions were having on her. Even if she tried to mask her emotions from this point forwards he would know. She could not hide from Obsession and the moment she figured that out was the moment she realized that she could not be a better Queen than he was a King. That realization, Erasmus mused, would sting fiercely, for he wasn't a particularly good King to begin with.

Even his own game of hide-and-seek was superior to her own. Hiding in plain sight, as a servant, helped him veil his intentions. She was focused on what he was trying to be and not on what he was trying to make her.

When she finally dismissed her own distaste for his presence and answered the question Erasmus listened with rapt attention, smiling politely and nodding along with what, to him, sounded like the words of a child describing the uninteresting events that took place during pre-school. Of course she looked to the incalculable masses of Hollow out in the Hueco Mundo dunes, her gaze, as always, drawn to the largest and grandest solution. From beneath her blanket of self-importance Cheshire saw nothing of the state of Las Noches, perhaps even believing that now that she was in charge an infinite number of resources had magically become available to make her job easier, it was the will of a child to order something to be done without knowing if the task is possible or not. She also put far too much faith in the masses of Hollow beyond the walls of Las Noches and Erasmus suspected that she didn't truly understand the unique ecosystem of their world.

Straightening himself to a respectable height and stepping up the dais toward the throne Erasmus' eye never left those of his new Queen and as he spoke it was with slow calming tones.

"Even if we could allocate every single man, woman and beast in Las Noches to the task it would be impossible for us to increase the size of our army to the required numbers. Within these walls there is not a single unintelligent Hollow, why do you think that is, my Queen?" Emphasis on the last word and a pause for an answer that wasn't needed added weight to the condescension. "Because almost all of the Hollow beyond our walls are mindless and will neither listen to reason nor obey commands, any attempts to subjugate them will end in either the death of the recruit or the death or the recruiter. So, if we were to do as you say, we would simply lose more able bodies." 

Once he reached the final step Erasmus dared not cross it for fear of pushing Cheshire too far too soon. If he came to close she may take his proximity as a grave insult and decide to do something reckless, he wanted her to understand her folly and make sure she lived to improve upon that understanding or die trying. If he could avoid having to kill her in the throne room he would. 

"But I haven't touched upon the Adjuchas or Vasto Lorde, have I? The adjuchas I will grant you, every day we see more and more return with our scouts and add to the population, the Vasto Lorde are highly intelligent creatures however. They've seen each and every blunder of Las Noches and will want no part in it. So," He concluded, clapping his hands together as if a deal had been made. "If it is your wish then we shall increase the number of recruiters and watch them venture off to complete a fruitless task. Many of them will not return and those that do will not return with an army of ready and willing Hollow in tow. Our numbers will drop and we will be worse off than we were before the orders were given. Those we send to parlay with the Vast Lorde will return empty handed, some may even perish beneath the anger of the Vasto Lorde for bothering them too many times, and all of the effort that could have gone elsewhere will have been wasted."

The crux of Cheshire's argument was the intelligence of the Hollow race, but the truth was that the odds of a Hollow below Adjuchas being intelligent were one in one-million and the vast majority of the Hollow population were made up of sub-adjuchas Hollow. The odds of finding enough to bolster the army and outweigh the costs of man power simply weren't in favor of Las Noches. It would be much more cost effective to make the current denizens of Las Noches more powerful, something that Erasmus hadn't yet come up with a solution for.

"So with that out of the way." Obsession continued, purposefully denying Cheshire room to breath or interject, the smile across his face impossible for him to hide as he took joy in tormenting the waif of a woman sitting in his chair. "What do you suggest we do about our lack of Espada, my Queen?"

[Words: 895][Total: 2377]

She didn't like the way he stood before her, polite and agreeable in his actions if not with his words. It left a bad taste in her mouth, and an even worse feeling in her chest. He was ruining this-- this moment! It was so important to her, where she sat now, and he was spitting in its face with, what, his little test? He wouldn't have stepped down if he hadn't known she had belonged here and not him; so why did he still bug her? What was the source of this unnerving feeling?

Go away, she wanted to say. Leave. It echoed a sentiment from another time, another place, a desert of glass and a madman that tormented her. Her eyes briefly left the ex-King's form while her words finished tumbling boredly from her lips to get a good look at the castle surrounding her. A castle of glass, she thought to remark, but that wasn't quite true. That castle hadn't existed, not inside of her, for a very long time.

Jian had made sure of that.

Pardon?

She shook her head quickly; sucking in a sharp, controlled breath through her nose and diving back into the words Erasmus continued to thrust at her. Her clouded senses, driven by the euphoria and desperation to accept this scenario at face value, were starting to clear. Very, very slowly. She struggled in her seat, her feet shifting to cross over each other. She could debunk everything he said; she could-- she could prove herself, here. She shouldn't have to, but being Queen meant doing things you didn't necessarily want to--

That... couldn't be right?

She unfocused and then refocused, gaze like camera lenses trying to get the best shot of what they managed to see. She didn't fully understand where this was going as her knuckles started whitening where they dug at the armrests of her throne, a bob to her throat. "Don't--" She started, not getting her chance to finish that thought, more of his trivialities eating at her expression. She had no choice but to listen, her unstable composition barely keeping up the weight of her presumed authority.

So she waited for him to finish; processing his words at a slog, something very unlike her. Instead of a river of thoughts they trudged like mud, beginning a steady trickle down the cliff side. Where, exactly, did she stand in that situation? On top of the hill or below the encroaching mass?

Did it make any difference to the landslide it was building up to?

He lingered at a safe distance, a burning inclination in the center of her chest-- her heart? Her primal instincts? She stayed her ground, watching him closely. The point of his speech so far could be summarized as breaking it to her that Hueco Mundo itself lacked intelligence, and confirmed her own view that most Hollow were simply mindless beasts, something to be pitied and disgusted by. She bit her tongue, stilling her rebuttal that there were so few people inside of this castle she would consider "intelligent" just as well. That wouldn't help her case any.

Every blunder of Las Noches, she mused. Every time a ruler has tried to do something and failed. How do you, personally, think Takua's defection was viewed by these roaming Vasto Lordes, dear Erasmus? Her realization might be slow, but her quick wit managed to form the prickly, barbed thought despite the heaviness of her mind. Always ready to hiss venom, it seemed, even at her worst moments. You're no exception, false King. You haven't helped us any. Why do you even deserve the throne, whether or not I--

That's not quite... right, either.

"I could do without your sass," she boldly murmured, cheek pressing back into a lifted hand. She never backed her argument with the intention that they build an army of stable, rational creatures; was mere fire power not enough? Or did Erasmus value the strength of the Shinigami's numbers more than he did the pure ferocity of the Hollow-Breed? It was tribe versus structure, sure. Feral versus mannered.

Beast versus man, but that had always been the case, and it wasn't like their race was at risk of falling into extinction any time soon. She mirrored these thoughts with thoughtful words for the man in front of her, mood shivering between anger, confusion, pride and consideration. It showed in her eyes if not in her face, a crack stabbing at the simmering honey.

It was after he finally gave her the chance to speak, of course, a dangerous glow to the lavender that sighed from her body. She spoke, and then took a rest in the expanding silence as she mused over his last comment. Espada? "Our Primera left, our Segunda and Tercera-- after the old one, Sobek Septecimia was expelled-- are shrouded in a fair bit of mystery and their appointments were very sudden otherwise. Our Cuarta--" She stalled, flicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Souta Suzuki didn't even need a mention, as there wasn't much to say on that front, either. The Espada had surely been a sorry state for quite awhile. She hadn't seen them as a mobilized force since the occupation of Las Noches, an event that's aftermath continued to plague them to this day by all rights. She almost continued, stating that it was the burden of the leader to worry for this problem-- but that's what she was now.

How didn't she catch that?

A breathless, soundless sigh, a spark of something else. The hand not supporting her lifted, a thin finger stretching out and glittering with a soft green light. She drew shapes in the air with it, child's play, doodling in class. It created them with the trail streaming from her fingertip, quickly fading back into the moonlit shadows of this room. "Our forces are pathetic, our Arrancar even more so. I can name less than five people off the top of my head, including myself, who are any worth to this palace. This is not counting those who have defected." His question struck true; how did she solve this?

"Not by fighting," she finished her thought, flicking her finger and shooing the lingering sparks away. "We need time to build." But could they get that, was the question?

"I...", how should this be phrased? "am not entirely sure." Was that something she was allowed to admit? She was starting to get frustrated, eyebrows burrowing and spine stiffening just a bit taller. "But that does not matter," she pressed on, her voice deepening with a mounting threat.

Still the rocks began to tumble, smacking more loose on their way down. "What is the meaning of this? What is your angle here? So what! We do not have a military force worth threatening the other races just yet, but so what? We have me!" She finger snapped back, pointing meaningfully at herself. "That means-- you do not understand,"

"They'll listen," she stressed, an unavoidable but barely noticeable tremor to her legs as she stood once more. "With me here, everyone will listen," her words were very emphasized, trilling though her voice hadn't raised more than an octave. "They'll mobilize, they'll learn; they'll have no choice!"

"And then we can take the rest of this world!"

"The rest of this universe!"

Everyone will love me!

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Her discomfort was obvious as he studied her, fidgeting like a child caught in the act of disobedience and sweating beneath those ever so form fitting clothes, The knuckles of her fingers grew whiter than the moonlight that illuminated them and Erasmus was surprised how quickly he was getting to her, he'd expected something of a fight from somebody so determined to stay in the special chair she so coveted, but so far getting under her skin had been easy. Chesh's reign could just be the shortest in the history of Las Noches, definitely not a first in the record books but the fact that it was a short reign resolved without violence definitely was. 

She could do without his sass she told him, mumbling into the palm of her hand like a sulky teenager, and Erasmus only raised his eyebrows in response, a wordless "oh, could you?" There were many things that Cheshire and Erasmus could do without, the crown being one of them, and he was starting to wonder if he should just remove himself from the monarchy and let the beasts scrap over it's still-warm stone. It might even do something about their weakness, a bit of competition driving them to confront one another, kill one another, push one another until one of them became strong enough to succeed. Who could guess? Maybe that person would be just what Las Noches needed. It was clear after the first year that Erasmus certainly wasn't that man, he was just the screw keeping everything in place, he'd never be able to turn the fixture into anything else.

But it was her turn to talk and Erasmus hadn't left her with many options for subjects so he listened once again, as dutifully as if he were taking notes (maybe he was) in a classroom, nodding along with her words as if he understood them as his own and pacing thoughtfully back and forth. Tantalizing close to the final step of the dais, the toes of his boots just poking out over the lip with every step. Shadows fell from his limbs as the light of the crescent moon fell upon him, the dark silhouette of the throne and it's current occupant rippling across his body as he passed before them.

She could name five people that could be of use as Espada -though no names were mentioned- and Erasmus found it interesting that his number was lower than hers. There were only three people in his mind that were of any use to the Kingdom, himself, Robert and Xiaobei. Cheshire was nowhere on the list. Perhaps Cheshire's list consisted of people she knew she could order around without incident, weaklings with no will of their own that would answer her every beck and call. Perhaps that pathetic red-skinned excuse for a man was even on her list, his position highlighted as the Queen's personal fuck boy. Who else? Kionchi? A man as useless as he was blind and, by pure coincidence the King was sure, another toy for the Queen to rub herself all over when she got lonely. Maybe somewhere deep down she also entertained notions of using her position as Queen to prove herself to Jian and convince him to come and serve her as her loyal subject and, once again, be her convenient unloved dildo. Erasmus was seeing a pattern and nobody was trying to hide it.

These thoughts accented his stare, made it hard and cruel and angry, the smile beneath it the only remains of what had once been a civil and obedient expression. That single uncertain answer marked the beginning of her descent and the moment Erasmus was waiting for, a brief window of vulnerability, a deer turning the wrong way from the rest of the herd, isolating itself, exposing itself. They didn't have a military, no Espada, no plan, they had Cheshire, the god-child sent from on-high, and that was all they needed right?

It was time to break the delusion.

When Chesh stood Erasmus mounted the final step of the dais and pulled himself viciously upon the platform of the throne, as a servant he was standing on forbidden ground. Even as she continued to bleat her own praises, practically writing her bible into the air, Erasmus advanced swiftly and with icy fury in his eyes. A coarse calloused hand shot out and wrapped it's fingers around the girls neck, holding her jaw steady so that she couldn't look away, forcing her to see his face. Erasmus drove her back down into the throne and hunched over her body, his face close enough to hers to bite out her jugular. He wasn't smiling now. There was a vicious snarl beneath those eyes, teeth bared, breath hot and thick with the expectation of blood. The servant had vanished and the man that had murdered thousands had replaced him ready to add to the count.

"Go ahead," He spat. "Give the people waiting in the shadows an order. Order them to protect you from me, see if they listen. Call Kionchi. Call Bertolt. I'll slay them both as they walk through the door before I'm done with you. What, you think they're stronger than me? You think your little hypnotizing act can make them protect you? Perhaps, but they can't kill me. And when they're gone I'll tear the crown, and your head, right from your pretty little shoulders and go right back to being a bad King, but a better monarch than you could ever be." He shook her violently, shaking out any unwanted effects of his sudden assault and, hopefully, leaving only her desperate attention and crippling fear.

"That's what it means to rule Las Noches, little girl!" Erasmus pressed her right up against the back of the throne, clutching her throat tight enough to border strangulation. "You need to be strong because you are a target, your position coveted by everybody you rule over. You must be cunning to know how to deal with your enemies, to know their strengths and weaknesses and know how to destroy them without eliminating their use to you. You need to make tough decisions that not a lot of people will like, but they'll listen to you because you're the strongest, the smartest and the most vicious. But you are none of these things, can do none of these things. You're just a little slut with low self-esteem, all this time trying to find something to fill the emptiness not even realizing that you've been going about it all wrong. Before you start taking what other people have, taking what you want, what you desire, perhaps you should take a good long look at yourself and think about what you need." 

He shoved her away, releasing her with a look of disgust in his eyes, pity, hate even. But not the sympathy that he felt. One way or another he was helping her, telling her what she had to hear. With any luck she'd listen.

"Now, get out of my fucking throne."

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Would she be buried under this landslide in her thoughts, after all? She could feel the earth falling around her, crumbling upon itself and biting at her paling skin. She breathed in its dirt, tearing at her throat on the way down. It felt raw. She felt raw, the layers of her illusion pulling back. Maybe it was his doing - maybe it was her own.

No. You don't understand.

He was close, so close, and she struggled to retain her facade of knowledge - of power - of stability. It wasn't her fault, she wanted to think, wanted to say. She could see the way he looked at her and she hated those eyes, those eyes, it's not my fault don't look at me like that. Months ago, would she have been stronger in this position? If she sat on this throne and he spoke to her like this, pressed her like so, would she have been able to fight back? Would it have been off with his head at the first inkling of disobedience, this game he was playing with her? The answer, she knew, was a resounding yes, even if she wouldn't - couldn't - have accepted it.

She had gotten smarter, bolder, but not prouder. Not happier. Not stronger, not really; if anything, everything leading up to this point had only pointed out her weakness. Was that fair? No, it couldn't be, but--

Nazomi's torture.
Jian's rejection.
Now this, too, the decrowned King of Las Noches advancing on her with the quickly chilling air baring down. She swallowed, pleading with her eyes and the desperate arch of her body - the white of her knuckles, the tightness in her legs and chest. He was missing something, even after he spun the dial on his board and cut to the finish line.

She was trapped in his headlights, not quite getting to the part of the evening where she fully came undone but frozen in an awkward middle ground between "I am your fucking Queen" and "please, please, believe me". The irony was almost as palpable as the neurosis.

There was a shattering feeling in her stomach she remembered from the time Nazomi first set his sights on her. This was fear, she almost casually remarked in the back of her thoughts. This is what fear felt like, and this was the second time she had ever been allowed to accept that. So... she was afraid. Some small, small part of her met that with a bored "huh" and a shrug, though thankfully the dominating aspects of her personality had a bit more sense to them. It didn't show on her face, even as she felt his hands on her and the lift of her body tensed her muscles. Only in her eyes, always in her eyes, the bright amber turning in horror.

"Let go!-", she barely managed to start, bravado slowly melting away. Still, at her heart she was herself - and being Cheshire meant that even in the face of this you did not crumple, as it had always been. Even if she did accept this fear, even if she was falling apart, she did not crumple and beg.

Not audibly.

She was shoved back like a ragdoll, her limbs responding appropriately. She pressed down against the throne because the inclination of his body forced her to, not because she was trying to shrink away. It hurt, it hurt, her mind echoed, but that didn't make her back down. Her reiatsu unfurled from her once again, a second showing of its acrid purple mist swelling and moaning. It did nothing to the man who looked more like a monster than she had ever seen in herself. What would Jian think of her now?, her thoughts briefly went towards. Would he be scared of what she could do if he saw how she looked in this moment, bent under a beast who snarled in her face?

It was pathetic, honestly, how her one hope that he wouldn't see her as a monster was attributed to being treated like an ant. Did she have to be weak to be meaningful? Be protected to be loved? There were so many considerations burning in her mind, though one stood out the brightest among the flames.

This is my throne. Even if you finished your little game, this is still my throne. You are encroaching on my territory. You are acting out of step.
You are assaulting your Queen.
These thoughts flickered in the gold, a sudden rush of adrenaline giving her the strength to remain tall against this.

Still the stones fell.
He knew about Bertolt. He knew about Kionchi. What else did he know about? And in that moment, this split second of mounting terror, it was not concern for herself she carried - it was for the people in her life she had met and grown with. It was for the mischievous, puppy-like demon scorned once and currently curled up on her bed awaiting her return; the double, triple agent Shinigami who wanted the escape into another game of cat and mouse as badly as she had and indulged. It was the mortal boy who had - who - who -

He could hurt them.
Please don't hurt them.

She met his cold stare quietly and even as she returned to her usual programming that singular wish shivered in the honey. He was still wrong. His words were still wrong -  his anger still misplaced. "You are still not... you still don't understand," she managed, throat bobbing to supply her with the air needed to continue. I am Queen were the next words planned to bubble from her lips, chiding him back into his place, for his sake. For her sake.

She could no longer breathe and he continued to shout at her, beating her down with his words in a way Cheshire had never experienced and never thought she could. He didn't think she was Queen? That she could be Queen? But it was right here, in front of him, the proof. Her, struggling against the hand constricting her throat. How could he not see that? Why was he missing this?

"You're just a little slut with low self-esteem, all this time trying to find something to fill the emptiness not even realizing that you've been going about it all wrong. Before you start taking what other people have, taking what you want, what you desire, perhaps you should take a good long look at yourself and think about what you need."

She hadn't realized why she continued to not breathe, her body flung to the side and limply slumped against the stony throne. One arm laid across the armrest to support her body, her face turned away from him and gaze fixed on a random spot of the wall. She wouldn't look at him, could see his feet in the corner of her eyes. Is this where she was meant to be, truly? Battered and at the whims of the another, bowed before them? That just... that couldn't be right? This couldn't be how it was supposed to be.

"Hey...", she croaked, the silence having built its monument. "You still don't... get it." There was no malice nor contempt in her voice, the arrogance having burnt up and left its charred remains buried under the rapid beating of her heart. It started to course through her veins again, this terror as she mulled over his words. Just a slut, just empty, just taking what she thought she deserved. She was so much more than that -- she

was

Queen?

She lifted her head slowly, bones groaning while they also straightened her legs. She almost staggered, her blurry sights roaming up his chest, sending him in and out of focus. "I..."

am real.

"You..."

have to understand.

"Please, I-"

promise.

She was standing now, the entirety of her body turning to face him, a dawning horror eating her alive.

She wasn't stupid. She wasn't even naive. She had built this insanity - it was the only thing keeping her afloat. "I promise,"

that I exist.

Her expression was solid, unmoving, empty - but she couldn't just leave. She couldn't just give this up here. This was all she had left. This was all that she was. If she quit now - she'd be nothing. That couldn't be how it was meant to be. This was where she was supposed to be, who she was supposed to be. All she was. All there was.

I am Queen.
I am Cheshire.
I promise that I exist.

So she stared at him, finally meeting those eyes once more, the gold in her iris the only part left of her showing that there was anything inside. It was pleading, it was desperate, it was needy. Love me, love me, it said. Validate me.

Please leave, it said. Leave me here and let me win, I've fought so hard. This is everything to me, this is everything I am. Somehow, she felt she wasn't quite that lucky, even as the spots of darkness began to eat at her vision. "I am the Queen."

[1516 | 5956 ]

Turning away from her Erasmus signaled to the servants in the shadows with a nod and they responded by heaving the door open again in expectation of Cheshire's departure. That same gravelly groan of the stone doors hinges crumbling under their own strain permeated the throne room, punctuated by the light exasperated notes of a voice at his back. She told him that he didn't get it, but he knew all too well what it was like to cling to one thing so vehemently that it meant your very existence to perpetuate your claim over it. Perhaps Cheshire hadn't yet heard the name whispered on the lips of Arrancar frightened that the walls would hear them, so drowned by her own fixations that she couldn't even fathom those of another. Obsession. Something Erasmus was intimately familiar with, harnessing and manipulating it. Which was why, when he turned to look at her once more, the sympathy involuntarily invaded his gaze. The pity. The understanding. All of it present but for a fleeting moment, then murdered by a still fury.

A single carefully measured step towards her and she began stammering up at him, simultaneously trying to recapture her breath and find her voice under the intensity of his angry gaze. Another step toward the throne, the difference in their height seemingly increasing with every inch closed, and she continued to try and finish her sentence. She made a promise with the third step and for a brief moment nothing happened as Erasmus' other foot came to join the one in front of Cheshire, as if he were waiting to see what it was she was promising. The desperation in her golden eyes did nothing to quell the storm behind their emerald adversaries. Erasmus had been wrong, there was a need that she was looking to fulfill, he could see it in the darkest parts of her pupils. It was the same need he'd seen reflected in the eyes of his own child, the same need that stared back at him in the mirror. It was what had compelled him to help Rania and fool himself into thinking that anything good could have come from their relationship.

It was a moment of heartbreak, for Erasmus knew what it was that she needed, though he couldn't be the one to give it to her. Had they met sooner then things may have turned out differently and perhaps both parties could have walked away for the better, but Erasmus was in no condition to provide such things, it was beyond him now to care for anything but his daughter and her future. For now all he could do was try to push her in the right direction, away from the infatuation of the masses that she craved so dearly and towards something more personal, more fulfilling.  It was clear that the woman would not listen to reason however, words were not swaying her.

So much for Cheshire's reign being one resolved without violence. If nothing else she'd won that small victory at the very least, though she'd never know it.

At last she made her promise and Erasmus' hand shot out at her again, clawing at her face and finding purchase in her hair. Grabbing the unkempt mess of black with a vice grip he dragged the woman unceremoniously towards the window, the open door all but forgotten as he swung her around and over the edge of the glassless frame, her feet dangling in mid air above the white sands miles below.

"Let me make it simple for you: This is my throne, my crown, because I am the only one that can bear them and survive and the only reason I can endure them is because they are a means to an end that will help me continue to give my own existence meaning." Even as he said the words he began to doubt them, but he had said too much. "This is not what you need." He told her, almost pleading with her despite the ferociousness of his snarl. 

And then he let her go.

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