The Royal Messenger

Chapter 1 - The new queen

Notes: Hello all! This is a classic faux-fantasy venture; hope it's enjoyable! I'm thinking of adding a second chapter from her suitor's POV, but am not sure yet. For now, here's the story of a princess turned queen!

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When Veridiana's crown princess - now queen regnant - Asitria had first been informed by her parents that they'd decided to abdicate from power, she hadn't been particularly surprised - after all, they had abdicated from their parenting duties many years ago, so why not grant themselves permanent leave from their royal ones as well?

She had been slightly more concerned to learn that the duties in question hadn't been performed up to any reasonable standards in-- well, the entire time they'd been ruling over the land, really.

The thing with royal power, Asitria had been informed since a very young age, is that the title of a monarch is more a duty than it had ever been a privilege. The queen of Veridiana is the population's connection to their deities, as well - a specific woman in every generation of her family's history had been picked by their pantheon to take over and become the channel of every prayer in Veridiana, directed towards their all-powerful protectors living - according to legend - in the cloudy mountain tops in the north of the country.

The gifts to the gods tend to be mostly food, as Asitria is well-aware - what else would people be able to give on a regular basis? More important prayers sometimes bring with themselves gold and silver, all of which adorns her uniform as a queen, weighing her down the remind her of her duties to her people, but the more mundane, day-to-day wants and wishes of veridianians tend to be expressed through sacrifices of bread, fruit, meat and anything particularly precious and rare to the one giving it. The queen is, of course, meant to eat it all, as any respectable channel between worlds would.

As it had turned out, her mother had done nothing of the sort.

"Her Highness tended to try and keep her figure, Your Grace," one of her handmaidens informs her, as if ashamed to deliver the news that her own mother had refused to confide before retiring somewhere far, far away from her homeland and her confused, newly crowned daughter. "And His Highness-- well, he would also refuse the food, because you know they were always--"

"Fighting, yes," Asitria cuts her off, trying to speed up the process of this confession. Her father had otherwise been a firm believer in self-indulgence, but, "He refused the food as well, just to sabotage her." Even more than she had already been sabotaging herself. No wonder neither of them had been particularly loved.

The girl nods gratefully. "Precisely, Your Grace."

"So that might also explain why a number of people - well, thousands of them - have complained that the process of prayer doesn't seem to work anymore?"

"Well, it isn't my place to blame anyone, but-- that might certainly be the case, Your Grace."

Spite is a powerful force, the newly crowned queen is reminded yet again in that moment - it's something she's discovered many times and that she appreciates further now - spite, along with her growing empathy towards her people, now entirely dependent on her, is enough to have her make her decision on the spot.

"No matter. It's all in the past now." And there it would stay. "This all changes, starting today."

The next day, the castle's gates are opened for audiences with Veridiana's new queen for the first time and the line of people coming in to meet her and speak their wishes into existence stretches right through the royal gardens and in the city outside - it had been a while since they'd hoped for much, after all.

....................

Asitria soon discovers that with her new daily schedule, having the kitchens make her any food outside of the days where she hosts diplomatic dinners had become a thing of the past - she's constantly working her way through a mountain of food, filled with the hopes and dreams of anyone who had come to leave their offerings. She had set some rulers in an attempt to negate the sheer amount of it by at least advising people to bring her lighter meals - she had asked them to bring her no meat at all, but that had backfired slightly, she has to admit. Grateful to not have to part with their most expensive food anymore, the population had started making up for it by offering the most exquisite breads, fruit, cakes and sweets; finger food that she makes do with much more easily - it's all always at reach as she's sitting with her royal council, rewriting laws, signing peace treaties and trade deals. She's nearly always chewing on something, but barely feels it in her stomach, with how airy and well-made it all is. She's never hungry, but never stuffed, either.

It's only airy on the lips, however. Soon enough she discovers precisely the problem that her mother had done her best to avoid - her maids have a much harder time tightening her corset in the morning and can no longer close it all the way, leaving the lacing in the back digging slightly into her back. Plump love handles had sprung on her sides, her stomach requiring a little more sucking in than it had previously.

Asitria had spent her growing years convinced by her image-obsessed parents that she had been getting increasingly fat with every passing month. Looking back, she'd just been transforming from a child to a woman - she'd grown wider hips and a modest chest; had gained a shape to her that she - naturally - hadn't had before. She knows that now that she's in the process of learning what it's like to actually be getting increasingly fat every day - her thighs rub against one another, bending at the waist means that her stomach bunches into a small roll, her cheeks are a bit chubbier and require a little sculpting on her maids's side with the powder in the morning. Her arms are a bit more difficult to stuff into the sleeves of her gowns. When she sits down in her throne, the bottom of the corset underneath digs into her meaty hips and restricts her breathing a little. Hurrying from one place to another is a bit of an ordeal now.

When she travels - she'd started developing far better relationships with her neighbouring kingdoms than her parents ever had - she loosens her gowns in the carriage, letting herself slump against the bench she sits on for hours on end during the trip, which in turn makes her fattening stomach pool forward a little.

All in all, it's fine. It's manageable. She's already getting people coming back to leave more gifts, because the gods had heard their prayers and, apparently, they would then tell their entire villages that the new queen is putting in the work that her predecessor had not, resulting in even more hopeful citizens coming to leave their messages for her to channel through.

....................

Asitri a stares at herself, dressed in just her nightgown as she is. Veridiana's queen of two years had undergone rather tremendous changes in that time - she'd grown more responsible, more reserved when it comes to her emotions, more invested in her country's every aspect.

She'd also grown significantly fatter.

Most of the changes are easy to handle - her fatter thighs, her bigger arms, even the beginnings of her double chin she barely notices, because they require only minor adjustments on her part. Her belly, on the other hand... her belly had been an endless source of fascination for her.

Her love handles now wrap all the way to her back, morphing into back rolls that make it a little difficult for her to bend sideways. They had started pouring out under her bodice at some point, making it seem a little useless, so she'd had longer corsets made - now they reach just above her backside in the back and down to where her thighs start in the sides and front to negate that effect. They pool out next to her when she lays on her side in the evening and jiggle whenever she's out of her tight, corseted gowns.

Her gut, relentlessly filled despite the tight gowns in question, is unrestrained this early in the morning - a thick, round slab of fat bunched up between her ribs and her hips, resting halfway down her thighs. Even now that it's empty, her belly is well-outlined in her nightgown, pushing against it firmly, doughy and heavy. She cups its side in one palm and quickly realises that she can't span it in its entirety anymore. It's soft and pliant and no matter how hard she sucks in, she can only do so much - it turns into a chubby wall of fat stuck to her entire torso, making her waist lose that hourglass-like dip that it has once she puts the corsets on.

But, after all, that's what the corsets are for. Asitria gets to her feet and rings the bell next to her bed, signalling to her maids to hurry along. She has a long day ahead of her, she knows - just like every other day, really. Today, though, she's on the road again. A trip for both work and pleasure, if she's daring enough to think so.

Travelling had quickly become one of her favourite parts of ruling, and while her kingdom's relationships had improved all across the board, she's especially fond of her northern neighbour Mulleile - or, rather, of their crown prince and his smiles that seem to go wider each time he sees her, along with her figure.

Now, hours after she'd left Veridiana and stepped off of her carriage into the courtyard of Mulleile's royal palace, Asitria melts at the sight of it once again - his dazzling grin and outstretched palm, which she gladly takes as she finds her footing again. Her gown is exquisite - a deep, dark blue shining through the layers of heavy jewellery covering her from head to toe. The prince's bright green eyes are sparkling, and his touch invitingly warm.

"How did you find your travels, Your Grace?"

His tone is light and friendly - she's already a queen and he hadn't been crowned yet, but she's her kingdom's youngest ruler in centuries; they're the same age and flirting feels all too natural. Her advisors and the prince's parents see in them a potential love match, other than a diplomatic one, and there's no use in working against her own wishes to prevent that.

"Wonderful as always," she says, voice demure, leaving her hand in his when he refuses to let go.

"Care for a walk around the gardens before my parents start boring you with yet another trade deal?"

Asitria hesitates for only a moment. She'd had her handmaiden tighten her dress to its absolute limits right before she'd left the carriage and can now barely move in it, but the appraising look her potential future husband keeps giving her is enough to stop her from feeling embarrassed about being - just as potentially - out of breath.

"You needn't even ask, Your Majesty."

....................

It's a good thing that her throne is spacious, the queen of Veridiana thinks as she settles back in it, waiting for her next visitor, many months after her visit to Mulleile. She should have known that her duties would require a constant stream of food just by looking at it - it's made for someone really rather large; even larger than her, perhaps. Still, when she turns and twists, her hips are starting to brush the sides a little.

It's no big deal - she doesn't seem to be getting that much fatter these days. Her dresses are vastly bigger and she's cinched at the waist into a corset that she might have fit two times over just a few short years ago, but all in all, Asitria is under the conviction that she's slim enough - the lacing means that her overfed belly pooches only outward and it's squeezed in from the sides, providing her with the remnants of the figure she'd once had - the same figure her mother had protected so much. Soon, she'll be at the altar marrying someone who, apart from a perfect political match, had also seemingly turned out to be her soulmate and her bridal gown had only been altered three times so far. She can't imagine that it'll need more than five more adjustments until the wedding in half a year.

That's not to say that there are no changes. Her curtsies are slightly more laborious now, as the wobbling fat attached to her front sways perilously despite the skintight dresses, pressing into her thickened thighs about halfway down beneath the fine silk when she bends at the knees, but she manages - her corset is prevented from breaking with a thick belt of solid gold right across her middle, gifted by yet another grateful citizen after their prayers had been answered, so the entire construction around her body moves alongside with her every time she gets up. Her breasts had plumped up tremendously, fighting for space out of her traditionally low necklines - something that had worked for her when she had been only a princess. Now, when free from their confines, they almost rest on the full, soft shelf that her belly provides. It's barely ever empty, but even when it is, it doesn't jiggle quite as much as it once had - the fat had settled there for good, every layer she adds only making it that much broader and heavier.

A man steps in through the open gates, carrying a large plate of grapes. Asitria leans forward in her seat, corset creaking as the ample, round gut contained beneath rolls forward with the motion, fighting for space until she widens her stance to let it settle between her splayed thighs. She catches a glimpse of herself in one of the mirrored parts of the wall nearby - her gown only makes her torso look a little firmer than it is, but there's no hiding just the sort of indulgence that it's holding back - all for the prosperity of her people.

"Hello, my good man. What can your queen do for you today?"