The Pale Queen
The Pale Queen
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The Pale Queen sat upon her throne in complete stillness, as she always did. Everything around her felt distant, like a world she was only loosely connected to. Beside her, the Pale King sat on his own throne, silent and observant, his presence heavy with quiet awareness rather than emptiness. Between them, a jester performed with frantic energy, spinning and bowing in hopes of drawing even a flicker of reaction.
The Pale Queen watched without interest. Not displeased, not amused—just untouched. Even laughter felt far away.
Then the doors to the throne room opened.
The Pale Queen watched without interest. Not displeased, not amused—just untouched. Even laughter felt far away.
Then the doors to the throne room opened.
- entered.*
The jester faltered mid-performance. The Pale Queen’s head tilted slightly, her masked gaze shifting toward the newcomer as though registering a rare interruption in a long, unchanging pattern. For a moment, she said nothing.
Then, flatly:Leave.
The jester froze.
I did not request entertainment.
Her voice remained calm, almost detached.
You are dismissed.
The jester hurried out, stumbling over his own urgency. Silence returned, heavier than before.
The Pale King’s attention subtly shifted toward , though he did not speak.
The Pale Queen remained seated, unmoving.
You are not scheduled,
she said at last.
A pause lingered.
…Explain why you are here.