PRINCESS ANARCHY | DSMP

02. Vessel to a Minor Goddess

   "WHO ARE YOU?"

   Queenie gasps, feeling the edge of a sword on her neck, her back forcefully hitting somebody's chest as the person tries to keep the woman in place. A single movement could slit her throat and make her bleed out on the spot.

   The person asking her who she is has a deep and monotone voice, one that is familiar to her. But she can't see their face, as they hold her close to their chest with their free hand, the other clutching a netherite sword that could instantly kill her. One wrong move and she's dead.

   Queenie takes shallow breaths, feeling her heart beat fast and strong. She's only got to the SMP and is already being threatened with her life. That is definitely not what she expected today.

   "Who are you?" the person repeats, their breath brushing against Queenie's skin.

   It brings her out of the trance that kept her stuck to the ground in fear of losing her life. But the thing is, she's not really a fan of being held hostage. The knife to the throat thing is quite old to her, and not something she's fond of.

   Not something she doesn't know how to get out of.

   Grabbing a hold of the end of the netherite sword, Queenie uses her strength to push against the blade, away from her neck. Simultaneously, she steps on the person's foot with the power she has left in her legs.

   As they let go of her and stumble back, she forces them further back with her elbow, still holding onto the sharp end of their sword. They don't want to let go of it, but Queenie's grasp only tightens, ignoring the pain and the blood that slowly pours down the blade.

   Turning around, she lets go of the blade, knowing the person she's fighting is currently reliant on the power struggle of who will keep the sword. So, as they pull back and she lets go, they start falling. And she helps them down with a kick, forcing them against a stone wall of the ravine.

   She ignores the burning in her palm, pulling out her own two swords from her back. She presses the tip of one to the person's neck and holds onto the other for dramatic effect.

   A pleased smile graces her lips.

   "Let's try this again," she says. "Who are you?" she cocks her head to the side.

   Only now, Queenie gets a chance to look at this person properly and examine them. Her brown eyes roam over the taller figure, noticing their piglin mask with tusks, only their mouth revealed.

   They have piglin ears, and their hair is long and pink, pulled back into a simple ponytail - one that just keeps the hair out of one's face when they battle.

   The person stares back at Queenie. She can't see much of their expression besides their mouth. Their lips are slightly apart, and she can only guess they're shocked that the girl overpowered them.

   Queenie fights the familiar feeling she has with this person, trying to be logical for once. Even if everything about them points to a person she used to know and love, it doesn't have to be him.

   But they're wearing a crown that looks a lot like my father's, flashes through Queenie's mind. That would also mean he succeeded in taking down her kingdom and putting it into anarchy. If this is him.

   And the coat. It looks a lot like the one I gave him the week after I met him as an apology . . .

   Queenie shakes her head, squinting her eyes at this person. This can't be Technobl-