Chapter 1
Chapter 1: The UsurpationIn the wake of a dark and silent coup, QUEEN MORGANNA ascends to power, her path cleared by the mysterious death of the king. Her first act as ruler is to secure PRINCE ALARIC, the rightful heir, deep within the dungeons of the castle. Despite his confinement, ALARIC's spirit remains unbroken, his determination to reclaim his throne undiminished.
Scene: The dimly lit dungeon where PRINCE ALARIC is chained to the wall. Despite his grim surroundings, he maintains a regal bearing.
QUEEN MORGANNA (entering the dungeon with a smirk): Dear stepson, your resilience is admirable, but entirely futile. You see, while you languish here, I rule the kingdom.
PRINCE ALARIC (defiantly): You may hold the throne, Morganna, but you will never hold the loyalty of the people. They see through your veneer.
QUEEN MORGANNA (with a cruel glint in her eye): Oh, I have a plan for that, dear Alaric. You will help me, willingly or not.
Days turn into weeks, and PRINCE ALARIC continues to resist the queen’s attempts to break his will. He refuses the lavish meals brought to him, knowing they represent more than mere food—they are symbols of his submission. Despite his confined space, he exercises as much as possible, clinging to the hope of escape.
QUEEN MORGANNA (during one of her visits, noticing his untouched food): Still playing the defiant prince? Let me add a little incentive. For every meal you refuse, I will withhold food from your people. Your stubbornness will starve the very subjects you wish to rule.
PRINCE ALARIC (struggling with the weight of her threat): You would not dare.
QUEEN MORGANNA (laughing coldly): Oh, but I would. And I will. Your compliance or their hunger—choose wisely Alaric.
Caught in a devastating moral dilemma, ALARIC faces a choice no leader should ever make. His defiance, once a source of strength, now potentially spells disaster for those he vows to protect.
Reluctantly, ALARIC begins to eat the meals provided, each bite a bitter reminder of the queen's manipulation. As the weeks pass, his physique starts to change dramatically; his once lean and muscular frame gives way to an increasing softness, his movements slowed by the added weight.
PRINCE ALARIC (to himself, despairingly): How can I protect them when I cannot even protect myself?
QUEEN MORGANNA (noticing his despair on one of her visits): Ah, starting to see the reality of your situation, are you? Good. A fat prince can hardly lead a rebellion.
Despite his growing despair, ALARIC’s resolve to someday free his people and reclaim his throne does not wane. He watches and waits, his mind sharp as ever, planning for the day when the opportunity to strike back might present itself.
QUEEN MORGANNA (confidently to her court): With every pound he gains, the prince loses a fraction of his claim to the throne. Let him swell with food; he fills his stomach but empties his future.
As the story unfolds, the kingdom watches, the citizens unknowingly manipulated into distrust towards their rightful ruler, their affections swayed towards the slender, ruthless queen who parades her austerity as virtue against the prince’s apparent excess.
Months of forced compliance have taken their toll on PRINCE ALARIC. His once athletic build is now obscured by a large, protruding pot belly that hangs heavily in front of him. His chest has softened, beginning to sag, and his face, once sharp and angular, now sports rounded cheeks and a double chin. The transformation is not just physical but a symbol of his forced submission, each added pound a testament to QUEEN MORGANNA's cruel control.
Despite his efforts to consume the enormous quantities of food brought to him, ALARIC often finds himself unable to finish, overwhelmed by the sheer volume. Enraged by his inability to comply fully, QUEEN MORGANNA devises a more humiliating strategy to ensure his continuous growth.
QUEEN MORGANNA (to her guards, her voice dripping with disdain): If he cannot finish his meals, then he will be assisted. Bring in the feeder.
Into the dimly lit cell steps ZEE, a young woman whose plump figure is barely contained by the tattered remnants of what once were fine clothes. Her presence in the dungeon is as much a mystery to ALARIC as her role in this macabre ritual.
PRINCE ALARIC (noticing ZEE, his voice filled with concern and curiosity): Who are you? Why do you aid this tyrant?
ZEE (her voice a whisper, tinged with regret): I am Zee, once a lady of a neighboring court, now nothing more than a prisoner like you. I have no choice in these matters. Please forgive me.
With that, ZEE begins the task assigned to her. She gently, albeit reluctantly, feeds ALARIC the remaining food, her hands trembling as she lifts spoon after spoon to his lips. The forced intimacy of the act is degrading for both, a shared humiliation under the queen’s watchful eye.
QUEEN MORGANNA (mockingly, as she watches the feeding): Look at you two, a pitiful pair indeed. A prince who cannot control his appetite and a lady reduced to a mere handmaid. You are both perfect symbols of weakness.
As the days pass, the forced feedings become a daily ordeal, with ALARIC growing increasingly larger and more helpless against the queen’s machinations. Despite the degradation, a silent bond forms between him and ZEE, their mutual suffering creating an unspoken understanding and a shared resolve to resist.
PRINCE ALARIC (to ZEE, during one of their quieter moments): This queen may control our bodies, but she cannot control our spirits. We must find a way to fight back, to end this tyranny.
ZEE (nodding, a spark of determination in her eyes): Yes, your grace. We will find a way. Together.
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