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It was a normal day in Apieda. The merchants had set up there stalls in the town center, and taxes were being collected for the mayor. Long had this town be free from worry and monarch. Its irrelevance was only rivaled by its peacefulness. The town’s only worry as of late was of a food thief, who stole little, and left without a trace. That food thief was one Joyce Black, who had been without a house and parents for as long as she could remember. This particular morning was like practically any other. The sound of birds chirping, along with the sun’s glare game the best alarm she could want. Joyce dashed out from under the porch she called a home. The family who owned said porch were late sleepers, and none the wiser to Joyce’s hidey-hole. Out from the porch, and onto the road. The dirt path that lead to town was winding, as it turned down the hill side. The roads were as old as time, and once were routes of King’s charioteer, but now the castle has long been abandoned. In her dark green hood, Joyce blended in with a crowd of people from far off places. The market was her goal, where the food was fresh and distractions plentiful. An apple here, a piece of bread there, an egg that hadn’t broken on the ground, they made for easy pickings for breakfast. Her pried option was a cut of sausage, witch had become more and more elusive the more she was known. People were always on the look for a green hooded figure, but the market was too busy for her to get caught. She managed to pilfer it from the back of a person’s basket. A criminal as what she was doing, it could always be justified by the fact that see need food to survive. Beggars weren’t taken kindly in her town, so her life was at stake when it came to his food. Joyce found the back alley, where she ate, as empty as could be. The ground worked as a pan, making an egg her preferred food. Put into a sandwich with the sausage, it created something to keep her going. The rest of her day was spent being a kid, playing with a few from around the area, messing with some of the adults, pilfering small things to play with, and everything else you’d expect a little kid to do. Dinner came once again from shops, pilfered with little regret. Tired from a days worth of fun, she began her long trek back to the hole in the ground that she slept. Here hole was nothing special. The walls were dirt, and the space was cramped, even for her. A bunch of pilfered wool, and other soft things, made up the bedding. A drawing hung on the wall, showing her idyllic life. The land of slumber was calling for her, and soon she would do her routine again. The next morning came a sound akin to a knock, someone was at the door above. Silent Joyce tried to stay, but it was little use. The voice above was telling the man of the house something to do with Joyce. A wayward sneeze gave away her hidden alcove to the ones above. The porch was moved to the side, showing her to the man of he house and the one who came a knocking. The man who had came a knocking was the butcher. Joyce had been able to get on her hood, and to grab her photo by the time she was reviled. Both of them had reason to be angry, but neither were particularly quick. Joyce made a brake for it, for somewhere. The man had took chase, while the butcher had went to, presumably, get the other merchants of the town. The castle was the only thing to hide in, unless Joyce wanted to brave it out with the wolves, so she ran for there. A sizable lead was made, but she couldn’t stop an angry mob. She got through the ancient doors, and into the main hall, locking the doors behind her. A mix of emotions filled her, mostly panic and fear. What would they do to her. They wouldn’t forgive her, nor let her go unharmed, leaving a more than dark option for poor Joyce. Her worry, for some reason, cut back when she found the throne room. A massive throne stood grand in the center of the hall. Something within her was convinced to go touch it, to go sit on it. It was calming to sit on, something drew an air of tranquility when she sat. She felt like this was her role, like this was where she should be.

Joyce found calm in the seat, as if all her worries had left her. Behind her the throne glowed a brilliant blue. Meanwhile the mob that had assembled outside broke down the door, despite its barricade, and ran to confront the thief. Even with an angry mob before her, Joyce was calm. To not break the ancient seat in a scuffle, the mob demanded that she’d come over to them. She did not. “Did you not hear us! Come down or we will not spare you life!” Yelled the butcher. Joyce should had been scared, but no. She laughed, “You’ll kill me either way, might as well delay the inevitable”. The fact that this was a child took a few in the crowd a back. Everyone, even now, only found a figure in green hood, the idea of killing a child made some unsettled. The butcher was not part of this unsettled group, and asked, “What’s so funny about your death? You seem to be having a good laugh up there”. Joyce had been asking herself that as well, “I don’t know, heh, just something about it is funny”. The butcher was cheeped out, to say the least, but approached the child anyways. “Look kid, me and my friends here, we have jobs we got to get to, so I need you to either do this the easy way of the hard way”. Joyce wanted the easy way out, perhaps her life would be spared that way, but something kept her to that spot. “Please, no, don’t come any closer,” she said in panic. Something in the back of her mind, the something that gave her the unearthly calm offered to stop everyone from wanting to kill her. The butcher came to the distance where he could grab her. A hand reached out and took hold of her arm. “Please, stop, just stop it, I’ll do anything, just let it stop,” She begged to the force in her mind who accepted her plee. The butcher was thrown back with a shock. The arm he had used to grab was burnt a dark ash. The darkness didn’t give any pain, but it spread like an infection up the arm it went turning him into a silhouette. The mob was in aw, while Joyce cried. She felt joy from whatever she had just done. It should’ve felt sickening, but only a smile came. She hopped down from the throne, and approached the butcher. He had turned as black as the night, and spoke not a word. The bravest of the mob approached branding weapons. A spear, stolen from a suit of armor, was thrown at the sobbing child. Before impact, it was grabbed. The butcher grabbed it, too everyone’s shock, and used it to stand back up. He stood between the mob and the girl. In doing this, yellow stripes marched up his torso. Claws grew sharp at fingers end, and a yellow covering went over his whole head, excluding two large spots for ever dark eyes. Joyce’s tears continued, full of sorrow for someone who had tried to kill her. Another brave soul tried to charge at her, while others fled out of fear. The one who charged, a woodcutter was brought to the floor by the butcher. The woodcutter’s life would’ve ended if Joyce hadn’t yelled, “Stop! Don’t kill him!”. The butcher followed the order and brought the woodcutter before Joyce. Something within her wanted to do what had happened again, to create another to defend her, to get revenge. Despite that, she didn’t. That small part of her took over, and she grabbed the woodcutter. Dark as the night he came, and by order he woke. The two followed orders and had no free will. Most everyone had fled, and the ones who didn’t could only look upon Joyce. “Good job Joyce, I held up my side of the deal and your doing yours quite well,” said the voice in her head. “W-what did I h-have to do?” she asked, afraid of what it might have been. “Being a queen, and gaining subject,” Answered the voice. “C-can I end it n-now? I don’t want to keep doing this,” Joyce confessed. The voice was clearly not happy, “Perhaps you need adjustment as much as the simpletons you converted”. The two defenders grabbed her by the arms, despite her struggling, and placed her back on the throne. The world froze in an instant. A dress striped yellow and black took to her. A second pair of arms came with the stripes, and got the original pair to copy. Two large antenna grew out from the top of her head, and came too was a crown of gilded gold. Two wings sprouted from the back, forcing the hood off an into the wind. A queen she was, and so came with a home to match it. The decrepit castle took on a honeycomb pattern, and shined a brilliant yellow. The two drones got a compilation to their own transformations, gaining wings of amber color, and a stinger of steel shine. By her side they stood guard. Joyce didn’t know how to feel, but didn’t have to show it. She bottled herself up inside her mind, letting herself do actions to keep the agreement going without tears. Out went her drones to gather more for a court. Ever shall her reign be long.

[I hope you enjoyed this story. This in truth is a backstory for an area and boss for my D&D group. Please leave your suggestions down below, I’d love to read them. Have a good morning, afternoon, or evening. I hope you were entertained]