The Queen's Mischievous Pet (ROMANCE)

"Bring the force down to sixty-percent." "Sixty?!" The room fell silent when a silvery and firm voice chimed in. The generals of the planning room looked at a woman clad in a black and yellow robe that was merely sitting behind them on a wooden chair. Their eyes were full of panic and arguments as they stand before a vast table with the map of their country. A few pins were distinctively placed southern of the map. But as soon as they heard that voice. All they knew was shut their mouths. The generals and the lesser captains squinted their eyes in disapproval of the female's orders. "We cannot allow that," "Do you want everybody to die, Captain Kruger?" The robust, silver-haired man closed his eyes with mixed emotions. That voice. Oh, that appalling, seductive voice. He kept his composure and slightly arched his spine when she met the woman's gaze. "I did not know you were watching, Queen Raphaela." "And I did not know that you were a coward, Captain Kruger." The woman stood up from her position and stretched her arms into the air, her soft skin exposed to the rays of sunlight, creating a luminescent glow like an angel's. Her bright pale yellow hair falling gently upon her neck and chest. Her sapphire hues glimmering faintly upon the sunlight. The captains watched in awe as the woman turned her head against them. She was divine. A goddess that the Kingdom did not expect to have. A beautiful woman with extraordinary looks and intelligence. Except that she was no angel. "Give me my sword and I will go into the battlefield with them." The Queen of Pollus was no ordinary young woman. She was no angel either. In fact, she was a living demon and a ruthless Satan in equivalent. Queen Anastasia Raphaela Wisteria, the 13th Ruler of Pollus, was the first Queen of the nation. After a long line of kings, finally, a female child blessed with daisies and sunflowers was born. A woman that even the townspeople feared. A ruler so cruel, that she had combined the sins of all twelve rulers into her small image. Quite the young woman, isn't she? "This is no time to brag, My Queen! The South is under the siege of the Reiffeurs. We cannot stand a chance with only sixty percent of our soldiers!" A general opposed. "Deploy. Sixty. Percent." The general lowered his head and gritted his teeth. "Child." "Did I hear something?" the queen bellowed. Suddenly a soft coat gently caressed the general's calves. He lowered his head only to find the Queen's beloved pet staring at him. It's huge carnivorous eye intently retracting as if it wanted to eat him alive. "He likes you." the queen muttered. "Come, Plume." The enormous blue-coated jaguar emerges from below the table and gently runs into the arms of the Queen. She caressed her fingers onto its coat and it recoiled immediately to receive her touch. "As I have said, you are only to deploy sixty percent of our force into the battlefield." "With all due respect, that is not enough My Queen." one of the captains explained. He heaved a sigh and looked at her and adjusts his monocles. "My men have estimated that the opposing battalion has 140% on their side. Can we truly extinguish them in a mere 60%?" "Are you kidding me?" she bellowed further. She stood up and walked towards the table. The captains moved aside and gave her the distance she sought. "Are you telling me that your worth as generals are not counted?" She snatched the blade of a general's waist and plunged it into the table. The wooden fractals ran through the air as they flinch in shock. With a cold voice, she spoke once again. "Or are you telling me that you cowards will not be present on the siege?" They gulped and averted their eyes away. Their palms watered in sweat as their legs trembled synchronously. The generals and captains had no plans to wield their blades. They expect the soldiers to fight without them, leaving their formation in a big questionable conundrum. They sat and drink with their goblets full of wine while their men get torn limb to limb. She scoffed and laughed maniacally. They all looked at her warily with fear etched on their faces. Their Queen is a devil incarnate. "SPECTACULAR! WHAT A TIME TO BE ALIVE!" she continues to mock with a raised voice. Suddenly she slammed her palms onto the table, alarming them. "We will be sending only 40% of our troops." "THIS IS ABSURD, QUEEN RAPHAELA! SIXTY! WE AGREE WITH SIXTY! BUT FORTY IS TOO MUCH!" "Forty." "Sixty! We all agree on sixty!" "Sixty, Your Majesty! Sixty!" "I said, forty." Their fear-stricken eyes stared at her small figure as she tilted her head to the side. Her red lips forming an arc sinisterly. The generals froze. They wanted to run away. They regretted being a part of the Kingdom's politics ever since she was coronated. Her tactics. Her presence. Her darned smile. Everything about her, one look from her bloodthirsty visage and they would feel that they were chained against their will. It's as if being on Earth was not Hell enough for them. But being with her? Oh, they so wished that they'd prefer being in flames instead. She was unstoppable. She was unkind. She was undefeatable. All the words that spouted from her lips are orders that were absolute. People could say, that of all the kings that Pollus had endured, she was the most unbearable. The cruelest. The disdained. The abomination of malevolence and lovelessness. A woman with no heart. "You, my lovely generals- will replace the lives of the soldiers we have lost. You will scream, cry, and plead just as they had endured. And nobody will care a single thing about every single drop of blood that you have shed, just like them." She rested her chin upon her palms. The men in the room which displayed robust and vitalized bodies trembled in fright. Their faces scorned into a horrified look. "What's that look in your eyes? Isn't it exciting?" She chuckled sweetly. "I thought you found it beautiful to see your friends die? So why don't we see them together? Except that you- will see each other die."