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How sappy of him.

How lucky of her.

And how awkward for the unnamed warlord who just greeted them a little too friendly.

He rakes a hand through his blue-grey beard, and decides to just leave the young couple, walking away into the very crowded throne room. His alien followership follows him in, following like the good followers they are, crowding the room even further.

You see, all the muscles that arrived yesterday camped there in the hall throughout the night, sharing snacks and stories like middle schoolers on a camping trip. Their sleeping bags were rolled up as day came, and they sat clustered back into their individual groups to make room for the arriving aliens.

“Hey, Lily,” the petite pixie girl hears Queeny yell in her ultra-shrill voice from inside the hall. And in a very loud, very bossy voice which Lily suspects has to be amplified by a megaphone. It’s about a quarter of an hour after the first blue alien trotted past her into the throne room.

Even more of them are flocking through the hall at the very moment.

How big can a population of ten thousand even be?

More than the whole population of Darkindeep Ebonyngrey Wolfmane Ridge-Cliff small town.

And this isn’t even the whole capacity of Evera’s army. With such an amount of tall alien troopers, she should just start a mercenary service.

Lily raises an auburn eyebrow. “Yo, baddie, what problem’s you got in there?”

“Come help me here for a second, will ya?” the regent asks, knowing full well her problem would take much longer than a second.

Obviously.

So into the overcrowded throne room Lily goes, through the tall gates of cola-flavored gummy belts, passing the familiar walls of Turkish delights and sweet smells, and finally catches sight of Queeny.

And was the throne room described as ‘overcrowded’?

Well, fuck, that’s a gross underestimate.

All fifty mafia men cram under a grey banner with ‘Wolfmane Mafia Bros’ printed in a bold sans serif font and the picture of a teeth-baring wolf on the side. And they sure don’t look happy with their new residence. The lumberjacks and overly enthusiastic gym bros chug down whey protein in a corner, most likely conversing about the quickest way to bulk up and calorie-deficit cutting styles.

And the who-knows-how-many aliens scatter all around like ants at a picnic, with their fur coats still on their shoulders although they are visibly sweating. They explore the strange place as Queeny frowns from her ruby-red throne, shooing away a nonhuman trying to get a taste of her fish pond. Lily understands him, though. Brother probably never ventured out of his home country before, and having all these food supplies at disposal must be like heaven on earth. Even Lily was taken aback when she first arrived, her already-nonexistent etiquette forgotten completely.

She hops across the sugary floor over to the throne, nearly tripping over the thick fur coats forgotten by an alien warrior who decided that it’s a little too warm for the coat. “Aw, bro, fold the thing and keep it in place, will ya?”

But the warrior doesn’t understand the concept of tidiness, though neither does Lily-girl.

“Just don’t get my place dirty.” She hears the sugar plum fairy say to the blue-bearded alien warlord, standing a few feet away from the swirling moat of syrup around the throne.

“I’m clean,” he says.

“Yeah, about as clean as a sewer,” Queeny decides. “My town’s hasn’t been sanitized once in pretty much my whole life.”

“I’m only with my seven concubines. And we’re all tested: no STDs.”

“Didn’t mean that, buddy. But thanks for your unwanted, unneeded medical records. I hadn’t an idea that the ice planet even has a healthcare system at all. Shocks. What a surprise.”

“Hey, this ain’t a bitching contest, yeah? Let’s move on,” Lily pipes up as she reaches them.

Sweet little Lily: not a single mean bone in her body.

The lady on the throne turns to her as she floats down the steps. “The flocks of aliens are invading my personal space, Lily, can you believe that? Me, Queeny, the regent, the sugar plum fairy, entertaining crazy aliens? I ain’t no one’s bitch.”

“’Course not, girl, but if you want them away, move the horde to some other space, no?”

“You’re smarter than I expected.” Then the sugar plum fairy turns to the warlord, her fairy wings buzzing in excitement. “Bro, what do you think if we relocate your troopers to the ballroom just down the hall, yeah? They’ve got funny brownies over there. A few of you will be permitted to stay in the main room here and catch up with other folks, of course. We’re not gonna gatekeep.”