I didn’t ask to be the Demon Queen

It had been a week. A week of seething and growling and hurling insults and sulking. Queen Eliza, the Serpent of the North, the Demon Dragon Queen, had been instructed on how to use a bedpan. It hadn’t been a pleasant encounter for anyone involved. Even the Hero of Eferton had grimaced. He felt her discomfort, to a certain extent. This world was decidedly not theirs. The object in their room, the ‘television’, had been their only window into it, and the differences were stark, to say the least. But somehow, equally as frustrating was the wrongness of their bodies. He was the lucky one, all things considered. Sure, this body was a woman’s, and it physically hurt to see his reflection, to feel a heaviness in his hips and an… absence, in other areas, but he was still human. His body functioned in roughly similar directions as it always had (though he was not looking forward to the monthly eccentricities of his new body). But Queen Eliza was not only having to deal with new equipment. She wasn’t even the same species.

 

The first day he’d felt vindicated, in a sense. Seeing the monster that had threatened his newly reunited homeland brought low had been, at first, delightful. Then it had slowly become an exercise in pity. Watching her attempt to get out of bed, go to the bathroom on her own, her equilibrium disturbed, only to fall to the ground and cry, he could only watch her and slowly feel his hatred ebb away. He couldn’t hate a creature like this. She’d been broken. There was no victory, his old teacher had once said, in mocking a defeated opponent. Queen Eliza had been defeated so totally and utterly that extending to her anything but kindness was on its own a cruelty. 

 

There had been other complications. 

 

On the second day one of the healers had come in, a young woman. She’d asked them about their identities. Apparently, his papers of identification - or rather, his body’s - had been on his person. The woman whose body he inhabited was named Sally Stone. He wasn’t looking forward to pretending to be someone with that name for any length of time, but for now it was probably best to play along. Queen Eliza’s ‘host’, for lack of a better word, hadn’t had identification on them. So he’d tried to, against better judgment, do the right thing. 

 

“Do you remember anything yet?” the nurse had asked on the third day.

 

“Not much, I’m afraid.” After only two missteps, he’d learned to bite his tongue, to keep from calling women ‘milady’, as he often had before. “Just bits and pieces.”

 

“What about him? Do you know what your relation is to each other yet? His name, perhaps?” She motioned to the sleeping figure of Queen Eliza. 

 

He shook his head. “Just that we… we go way back.”

 

The nurse nodded. “I’m glad you have each other then, at least.”

 

He looked over to Eliza’s sleeping form. “I suppose we do.”

 

When he told Queen Eliza later that day what he’d told the nurse, her face had contorted into a hideous mask of hate. 

 

“You told them we are related in some way? What is it you’re trying to do? Is my humiliation not complete enough for you?”

 

He shook his head. It had been a mistake, of course. He should have let her rot. There was no place in any society he was aware of for creatures with no memories, skills, relations, family. Especially ones who acted like she did. But he was the gods-damned Hero of Eferton. He was the Protector of the Weak. It wasn’t his duty to punish the wicked. Besides, she was no danger to anyone, now. He tried to explain to her that, without a name, an identity, without her body, her armies, her generals, her powers, she was just another vulnerable human. She spat more curses at him, and tried several verbal hexes. Nothing happened, of course, and he just looked at her. 

 

“Don’t you dare pity me! I am the Demon Dragon Queen!” She screamed at him, but the look in her eyes was one of a queen brought to her knees. There was nothing she could threaten him with. When the next time the nurse had asked them if they remembered something, Queen Eliza had flatly agreed that she remembered ‘Sally’ as someone important to her. It wasn’t technically a lie. Eliza had grown quiet after that. That is to say, until about a week after they’d woken up. A man had come in who treated both of them with something that looked a lot like respect but was more respect-adjacent. He acted like royal messengers they’d met in the old world. Carefully chosen words and clothing to convey importance-by-proxy. Clothing and behaviour that said ‘I am not important but the people sending this message are’. Even with the strange garments people in this world wore, the combination of muted colours and an air of importance and deference were unmistakable. He’d explained to them both that the people he represented were aware of their injuries sustained during the ‘unfortunate incident’, and that they would like to resolve the situation as quietly as possible. He used a lot of words they didn’t recognize, like ‘telecom’, but the main gist of it was clear. Whatever had put them in this situation had been the responsibility of an entity of great political or social importance, and they wanted to buy silence. All things considered, owning currency in this different world was probably a good idea. 

 

He’d offered them one million of the local currency, each. Then, something strange had happened, that the hero hadn’t expected. Queen Eliza had sat up a little straighter, and looked the man in the eyes, and she’d simply said ‘ten’ with such authority and surety that the man had simply nodded. That this was something he’d need to talk to his employers about, but that this was certainly manageable, and he’d gotten up and left. When he had, Eliza had looked at her opponent. “What? Would you have preferred less?”

 

“No, of course. I’m… grateful, though I know you didn’t do this for me. Just… how did you know that would work?”

 

“Silence is always worth more than people think it is.”

 

He’d considered this for a bit. He assumed she was right. Another week passed. Queen Eliza slowly learned how to walk again. The first time she’d gone to the bathroom on her own, he’d heard her sob. He empathised. His own visits had been pure misery, alien bodies feeling almost foul. He shuddered to think what it was like for her. His own recent additions, his chest especially, not only got in the way, but made him feel like crawling out of his skin. He’d resisted the urge to scratch, to see if the skin and flesh would give way to the real him underneath.

 

Food in the hospital had been a very pleasant surprise, however. It had been more flavourful than almost any he’d ever had. Every dish had either sugar, salt or both in ample supply. For one meal, a small container with a yellow substance had been included. The nurse had called it pudding, but it’d looked nothing like the blackpudding he’d eaten while growing up, the gooey substance running off his spoon like honey. But the taste of it had been almost divine, so sweet it had hurt his taste buds. There had been a strange moment when he looked over to Queen Eliza while he was eating his pudding and he’d heard strange noises coming from her. She was eating her pudding with the same amount of almost ecstatic pleasure he was, and they made eye contact, before both sort of nodding and turning back to their food. 

 

After two weeks, he’d received a letter addressed to Sally Stone, that confirmed their settlement would be confirmed if he signed the enclosed agreement, and that all funds would be sent to his account - since his ‘relative’ didn’t have a known legal name. In an effort to approach fairness, he told Eliza about this. She was fuming at the news, but she understood the problem the lack of a name posed. 

 

“How do we settle this, then, Hero? Do I have to trust that you, who came to my castle to murder me, will treat me fairly and give me my half of what I’m owed?”

 

He thought about this for a second. She had a point. 

 

“Consider this then, Dragon Queen. I hold no more ill will towards you. As far as I am concerned, you were a threat to the people and land I cared about. You never had the chance to make good on your threats and promises and as such, my quarrel with you is over. I don’t need you to agree with my reasoning, only understand it.”

 

She nodded with a hateful glare. He continued.

 

“As such, I wish you no harm. In fact, I believe that you have the right, like any other person, for a decent life. However, I don’t trust you not to try and amass an army and subjugate this world. Considering your lack of power I don’t see you succeeding--” He held up a hand to stop her sputtered objections, “But I know you’ll try. And so I’m going to sign this contract, and I’m going to keep your funds close, and you as well. I’m going to keep an eye on you, and we will both try to integrate in this world. If you, for lack of a better word, behave, you’ll have access to your riches.”

 

More objections and hissed curses. 

 

“Would you do any different in my stead?” he asked and she conceded that, indeed, she’d probably do worse if he were dependent on her.

 

“I don’t want your pity,” she hissed again, without much conviction.

 

“It’s not pity,” he said calmly. “You are weak, Queen Eliza. Whether you like to admit it or not. I protect the weak. It’s my divine duty and I will not relent simply because I’m in a different world. The day I trust you’re no danger to others and the world itself is no danger to you, you have my word that you’ll receive what you’re owed.”

 

“Why should I trust a word you say?” she asked. It was a good question. 

 

“Because you’re the only link I have to my own world and my own body, and I’m not in the business of burning bridges.”

 

Queen Eliza looked him in the eyes and after a moment of deliberation, swung her legs off the side of the bed, and unsteadily, leaning heavily on the rack they’d been told was an IV, she shuffled over to his bed. 

 

“What is your name, Hero?”

 

“Why do you want to know?”

 

“I’m not in the business of entering into pacts with those whose names I don’t know. And don’t you dare try calling yourself ‘Sally Stone’. I’m no fool.”

 

He nodded. “My name is Daniel. Daniel of Eferton. I’m afraid my parents weren’t important enough to warrant a proper last name.”

 

Queen Eliza seemed to laugh at this. Or perhaps she scoffed. He couldn’t tell which. He’d never actually heard of the Dragon Queen having a last name. 

 

“Very well, Daniel of Eferton. I hereby offer that we cease hostilities until we find a way back to our own world. As assurance on my part, you have control of my assets. I have no access to any funds until such time as you trust me to have control over them. In return, I will not smother you in your sleep or attempt to murder you in any other way, nor will I try to take control of this world and its inhabitants. Is this acceptable to you, Hero?”

 

She stuck out her hand.

 

“Yes,” Daniel said, “I believe that will do.”

 

The Hero of Eferton shook the Demon Queen’s hand and they both smiled.