Virgin Queen
Legacy Name: Virgin Queen

Fan Art:

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On the first day . . . there was an egg.

On the second day . . . there was a body.

On the third day . . . there was a heartbeat.

On the fourth day . . . there was breath.

On the fifth day . . . there was conscience.

On the sixth day . . . there was movement.

On the seventh day . . . there was life.

And on the final day . . . there was light.

Eyes open . . . ears open . . . sights and sounds. An amber prison and muffled voices. A sharp intake of breath brings thick liquid into newborn lungs. Movements are sluggish, resisted by the jelly that fills this chamber. A hand is brought up to rest on the golden wall. Surely this body is not the body of a newborn. The fingers are long and slender; the arm is thin, but strong. Long black hair floats freely in the fluid, wrapping around limbs. Legs begin to move, slowly, but with purpose. The light, which was just a faint glow in the distance, becomes brighter and brighter. The wall is thinning. A gentle prod is all that is needed to push a small, fragile hand through. With that, the wall breaks, and a new age is born.

The age of Virgin Queens.

[spoiler="Chapter One]As the virgins were born, several took this day as one to celebrate, and celebrate they did. They came to see them, in their brand new glory; craned to get just a glimpse at those from whom the new queen would be chosen. They rejoiced, as the former queen was becoming far too old to commit to the duties she was given. To them, this was a beautiful day of birth. The virgins knew better.

The female drones that tended to the virgins were grim, not speaking and certainly not celebrating. They had been through this same day, and the hard days that would follow. These drones were lucky survivors that knew that few of these virgins would see their first month.

With each new birth, the air thickened, hardened, then froze. Every virgin was presented with an ornate dagger upon their first few steps. The crowds quieted as the virgins looked around at their fellow newborns. And then . . . chaos.

There were screams and shouts, punctuated by the sound of steel on steel. Blood splattered over the ground in massive puddles as flesh was punctured by metal. The onlookers watched in horror as those they’d assumed would simply be chosen to reign killed all of their competition. The drones, however, simply sidestepped wild stabs and quickly removed the corpses piling up on the floor.

It was over as quickly as it started. Where there had been fifty virgins, one now stood, blood soaked and panting, in the center of the carnage. She was perched atop a pile of dead virgins, standing a good few feet above the drones. As she surveyed the mess around her, she pulled the knife up to her own neck, a large chunk of waist-length black hair clutched tightly in her other hand, and thrust the knife through, away from her body. She continued this until all of her long hair was in that one fist, dangling a foot from either end. Without a thought, she dropped the hair onto the virgins below her.

Beatrice tidied her now chin-length hair and walked from her position toward the drones, and after pausing to glance at them, walked right passed. They followed without command and directed her to a room where she would be kept. In a wardrobe near the door were several outfits that the drones silently offered to her, one by one. She waved off the first few as they showed off far too much skin for her liking, then lost interest as she took several articles of clothing from the wardrobe and threw them on the small corner table. She found a sewing kit in the bottom of the nearby dresser and began to cut the cloth and sew several pieces together. The drones left her to it, and she soon found herself in an empty room.

It was nightfall on her birthday when she finished her clothing. She pulled the shirt over her head, the skirt over her waist and the leggings up to her hips. She tugged her gloves and boots on, then surveyed herself in the full length mirror. Aside from her face, she bared no skin. Beatrice smiled at her reflection, her golden eyes shining with approval. In this cloth, she would be queen.The story Virgin Queen is one about a young female bumblebee, Beatrice, who is mere moments away from winning her crown as Queen, but is whisked away from her home. She finds herself in a world so different from her own that at first, she isn't sure how to cope. Thus, for her first couple of days, she wanders around the outside world in a state of shock, and nearly walks herself right into a mortal danger. As her short life passes before her eyes, she is jerked out of the jaws of death by an unlikely ally.

Sebastian, the wolf spider, wasn't entirely sure why he rescued the small bee, but he wasn't really one to question his actions. He was a fortune teller for a caravan of gypsy insects, and could probably blame his soft spot for prey insects on his company. But moreso, he blamed it on fate.

Unsure what else to do, Sebastian leads Beatrice to the caravan he calls home. She, not one to show emotion, hides her fear, shock, and feelings of abandonment beneath a stubborn chin and a stiff posture. Here, she meets: Gideon, a flighty and flirty blue butterfly with a heart of gold and a love for dancing; Keelin, a gentle moth who is the life of the party and Gideon's dance partner; and Elsie, a hardworking, would-be queen ant with a sad past but a strong love for life. This small troupe makes up the most popular caravan in the area.

They do their best to ease Beatrice out of her fear and into the folds of their "family", but Beatrice is a stubborn girl. All she wants is to go home, and she won't let herself get distracted by flights of fancy. She stays with them, for safety's sake, but never says a word. Her colony needs her, and as a Queen, she thought of nothing else.

And then they find the egg.

It looks just like the pebbles around it, but is glossy and feels heavier. The troupe, curious of what it may be, keep it in one of their wagons. Beatrice is enthralled by its presence in the caravan and finds herself staying with it very often. After a few weeks, it hatches and exposes the small, fragile baby bird within. The caravan, knowing the dangers of birds, give the hatchling to Sebastian to dispose of. Beatrice watches in horror, and for the first time, she speaks. Or rather, she screams. She pulls out the dagger she hadn't used in a month and, as gently as she could, ripped the baby bird from Sebastian's fist. Caught off guard, Sebastian loses his grip on it and Beatrice is able to cradle it in her free arm. Her left holds the dagger in front of herself, and she is breathing heavily. Everyone in the caravan is shocked, but nothing is as shocking as the explanation she gives.

"Everything in this world deserves to live. There will always be predators and prey, and there always should be. Him being above you on the food chain is no excuse to take the life of an innocent infant."

She turns on her heel and sprints into the overgrowth. The caravan gives her time to steam, but when the sky clouds up, they decide to go looking for her. Gideon and Keelin have to hang back as fat droplets begin to fall, and Elsie follows suit. Sebastian does not return.

Beatrice, having found a makeshift shelter under several leaves and on top of a small pile of rocks. She had a berry and a small bottle of honey from earlier that day, so she resigned herself to a lunch outside. She tore off pieces of the berry and poured a little honey on it to feed to her new charge. He ate it up quickly, but seemed to always want more. when she ran out of food, she sadly cooed to the baby, telling him she'd have more food as soon as the rain stopped.

She starts as she hears a noise nearby, and pulls herself and her bird deeper into her shelter. at the low entrance, she sees a pair of very familiar boots. Despite the cold, she feels a warmth in her chest. He had come to find her. Someone cared enough to come find her.

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