For the countrymen of Branda, there was no crossing the Aelven Weald. Vicious monsters unseen anywhere else on the peninsula stalked its tangled undergrowth, tracking down and attacking any explorers as if trying to defend something. It was a commonly-held superstition among the people of Shulm that if one tried to cut down a tree in the Aelven Weald, clouds of locusts large enough to blot the sun would swarm the city, and so the forest wasn't even exploited for the tough but flexible lumber of its trees.
Only Elves had the dexterity to stay high upon the branches of that cursed woodland, away from the lashing tongues of its beasts. For the truth, which only a handful of humans had ever come to know, was that the ancient silver city of Aelf'ahlnohma stood beyond it. Protected by a magical aura of illusion, it was impossible to see the city's shining central spire from a distance, protecting it from the prying eyes of other races. Elves, although merciful and kind, had a habit of placing themselves above the problems of the world, focusing instead on their own people. Gifted in the ways of magic and blessed with some of the world's finest historians, the silver city was a thing out of legend, though for its inhabitants, it was a very real monument to peace.
Within Aelf'ahlnohma's royal palace, a modest throne room was open to all at almost any hour of the day. The comforting presence of their queen--a soul whose compassion and wisdom captured the souls of all, was capable of calming even the most fiery-hearted of Elves. Sitting upon her silver throne, the Queen's formal attire was like that of a priest's--pure white, flowing and graceful. The crown of her dominion; a large, decorated adornment which partially obscured her face, did little to detract from rumours of her supposed beauty, said to be so overwhelming as to blind whoever dared to gaze upon her.
Before the throne knelt a royal scout, who continued to avert his gaze while reporting to the Queen. It was difficult to gauge her response with only her mouth visible.
"Thank you, warrior." She spoke as the scout ended his report, "You may leave."
"Your Majesty!" Lowering his head even further, the scout didn't waste a second in returning to his feet and marching out of the hall, leaving the stoic Queen to her thoughts.
"...So the Queen of Dragons is risen." She remarked.
"Your Majesty-" A feminine voice spoke up from her side, "-It is imperative that we prepare for war with the Dragons immediately. No doubt Tiamat is already aware of Aelf'ahlnohma's location, as she was during the previous Demon Age."
"If I may be so bold--would it offend you if I was to speak freely?"
"Not at all, your Majesty! Please, speak your mind!"
"If I must be honest…" She began, "I'm too tired to do this today."
"...Your Majesty?"
Standing up gracefully from her throne, the page by her side watched as the graceful Queen of Elves filled her lungs with a deep breath, before launching herself towards the servant's waist, shamelessly wrapping her hands around their waist with a dissatisfied groan.
"Ah~ Diiin~" She cried without a hint of grace, "Tell the guardsmen to end court early today! Tell them I'm sick, or in deep thought! There have been too many reports today, and now that Tiamat's returned, there's going to be no end to them!"
"P-Pull yourself together, Your Majesty!" Din replied, grabbing at the weeping Queen attached to her hips, "This is no time to be having an emotional breakdown! What if someone sees!?"
"I don't care~ I don't care anymore~"
"We're going to your chambers! Come on, pick yourself up!" The Elven girl helped the monarch to her feet, "I'll prepare some tea for you, so just… go to your chambers, okay?"
"Hngh… Oghay~"
It would have been difficult to believe that either of those girls were in the positions they were if the truth came out about their true natures. Din, who was a simple thief only one month ago, now the handmaiden of the Elven Queen, and the Queen herself, who hid her true, emotional nature behind an impenetrable barrier of dignity and auspiciousness. Hand held like a child, the overwhelmed monarch was led towards a door near the rear of the throne room, where a lengthy corridor connected it to her personal bedchambers. Emerging into a grandiose, but windowless room, the Queen almost immediately parted with Din to collapse onto her oversized bed, sobbing face sinking into the finest Elven fabrics money could afford. Using a magically-heated stone to boil a kettle at the room's modest on-suite kitchen, Din quickly prepared some tea for the girl, approaching the bed with a fresh broth.
"Your Majesty-"
"Oh, Din!" Lifting her head from the sheets, the Queen cried with an exasperated tone, "Please, just call me Larion when we're alone together!"
"I've prepared some tea for you."
"Oh…" Looking ashamed of herself, she accepted the cup with both hands, "Thank you…"
The Queen of Elves was not an incompetent or unjust ruler. The stark opposite, in fact. Few conflicts troubled the Elves, but those which had arisen over the course of the last few centuries were short-lived thanks in no small part to the endless wisdom of the city's monarch. However, as Din had shortly discovered following her miraculous appointment as the Queen's handmaiden, the girl was not invincible. The stresses of ruling were quick to add up, as it turned out.
"You are too kind, Din." Larion complimented, having calmed down a little, "My mother would have told me that crying doesn't suit a ruler."
"Even the strongest need to rest every once in a while." Din answered, reaching her hands out towards the Queen's crown, "Come on, let's get this off."
It wasn't a particularly comfortable headdress to wear, but as an expression of her power and dignity, there were scarce few occasions when Larion could afford to remove it, and not simply because she wished to preserve her image. As Din lifted the crown from her head, locks of jet-black hair fell from its confines--a rare colour for an Elf, who would normally sport varying shades of grey and white. Her ears, too, seemed comparatively dull compared to the sharp features of her kind. They were not deformities, but a clear indication that she was anything but a pure-blooded Elf.
"Ah…" Larion sighed with a pleased expression, "I cherish every moment I don't have to spend wearing that crown!"
"Don't get too comfortable." Din warned, "We're far from finished today."
"That is true…" She lamented, "Cry as I might, we stand on the brink of a disaster. For 500 years, Aelf'ahlnohma has known peace, but for 500 more, she shall know chaos."
"I know you're aware…" Scratching the back of her neck, Din paused, "-I'm not a scholar, or anything like that. But, is this really the beginning of…"
"A Demon Age?" The Queen nodded slowly, "The appearance of the Queen of Dragons only confirms it. Soon, the three remaining Heavenly Kings shall appear, and then a shroud of darkness will envelop the world. Crops will wither, animals will grow sick, and Demons shall prowl the lands openly, slaughtering all who they encounter."
"...Is Aelf'ahlnohma safe?"
"Most likely, no." She answered morbidly, "However, for as long as our knowledge is allowed to persist into the next age, we will have attained victory. We will not be the ones to end this cycle permanently, but we will ensure that someday, it will."
"It seems like you won't be getting the break you desire, then."
"It is not a Queen's duty to rest. Only in death will I know true peace." Larion proclaimed, setting her tea down on a bedside cabinet, "...But, until then-"
Yelping as she was suddenly pulled by the waist into that sizable bed, Din felt her head sinking into an assortment of pillows softer than clouds. As she opened her eyes, the impossibly beautiful Larion hovered above her, wearing a warm smile that seemed to hide a certain longing.
"-Wouldn't you like me to… help you relax, for a while?"
Lifting the back of her head, Din's eyes widened as the Queen drew their mouths together, close enough to feel the monarch's heavy breaths touching her lips. With a blush that ran from her nose to her ears, the humble handmaiden turned her head away while gripping Larion's shoulders.
"T-This isn't the time for that! Your Majesty!"
"Oh my. Does that mean you'll be up for it later?"
"You know what I mean! There's still a line outside of the throne room!"
"Oh, must you always be right, Din?" Larion pouted, "Very well, then."
Pushing forward, the Queen of Elves shamelessly stole her lips, giggling in the embrace as she felt the strength in Din's resisting arms slowly disappear. Like that, the two of them shared a kiss reserved only for lovers, selfishly indulging in a forbidden pleasure. As they disconnected, a trail of saliva connected them at the lips, and the stewing expression on Din's face belied her complete submission to the Queen's invasion of her mouth.
"You're always so…" The handmaiden averted her gaze, "Let's get going…"