Chapter 2

Seeds of Rebellion

In the darkness of the dungeon, beneath the weight of their forced roles, ALARIC and ZEE begin to plot. Each whispered conversation, each look exchanged, builds the foundation of their resistance. Unbeknownst to QUEEN MORGANNA, her cruel methods are planting the seeds of her own downfall, as she unwittingly brings together the very forces that could lead to her undoing.
As the seasons change, the transformation of PRINCE ALARIC under QUEEN MORGANNA's cruel regimen becomes more pronounced. Each visit from the queen brings with it a harsh reminder of his dire situation. On one such occasion, the queen enters ALARIC's cell to assess the results of her tormenting plan. She finds ALARIC struggling to rise to greet her, his body a testament to months of enforced excess.
His once proud and regal stance is now burdened by a large, hanging belly that sags noticeably. His legs, thick and heavy, barely support his increased mass, marked by cellulite, and streaked with stretch marks over his increasingly pale skin. His chest, soft and full, completes the transformation from a once fit prince to the queen's envisioned image of decadence and defeat.

QUEEN MORGANNA (smirking as she observes his struggle): Ah, Alaric, how the mighty have fallen... or should I say, expanded? You are becoming exactly as I envisioned: a prince too encumbered by his own flesh to ever pose a threat again.

PRINCE ALARIC, breathless from the effort to stand, can only glare in response, his disdain for the queen as palpable as ever. Nearby, ZEE watches quietly, her appearance starkly different from the prince's. Once plump from her initial capture, she now looks significantly thinner, having sacrificed much of her own rations to feed ALARIC as part of the queen's plan.

Noticing ZEE's changed appearance, QUEEN MORGANNA feigns concern with a cruel twist of humor.
QUEEN MORGANNA (turning to ZEE): My dear girl, you look rather... diminished. We cannot have you wasting away, especially not when you have been so useful. (To the guards) Double her meals. We need her strength to take care of our prince here.

ZEE nods, a flicker of fear passing through her eyes as she realizes the queen's intentions to make her another victim of forced feeding. The queen laughs softly, her gaze sweeping over ALARIC and ZEE.

QUEEN MORGANNA: With such a diligent maid, soon we will not need bars or chains for you, Alaric. Your own size will keep you exactly where you belong.
As the queen exits, her laughter echoing off the stone walls,
ALARIC sinks back down, the weight of his body and his situation pressing heavily upon him. Despite his physical constraints, his eyes meet ZEE's, and in that glance is a silent vow that they will not let the queen's cruelty define their fates.

PRINCE ALARIC (whispering to ZEE): She thinks she is won, that she can control us. But she is wrong. We are more than this... we are still capable of fighting back.

ZEE (nodding, her voice low): We will find a way, your grace. For your people, and for ours.

In the quiet of the dungeon, amidst the oppressive gloom, the seeds of rebellion continue to grow. Each cruel jest from the queen, each new hardship, only strengthens their resolve to reclaim the dignity and freedom stolen from them.

The bitter chill of winter seeps into the depths of the dungeon, the cold stone walls offering no respite from the freezing temperatures. ZEE, now noticeably thinner and looking frail from her sacrificial feeding of PRINCE ALARIC, shivers as she brings him his nightly meal. The prince, whose body has grown to immense proportions under the queen's forced regime, notices her discomfort.

PRINCE ALARIC (with concern in his voice): Zee, you are freezing. Come closer.

In an effort to warm her, ALARIC attempts to stand, a task that has become increasingly difficult with his size. As he grasps the bars to pull himself up, there is a slight groan of metal. The bar bends ever so slightly under his weight, a fact that does not escape his notice—or ZEE's.

ZEE (her eyes lighting up with a spark of realization): Your grace, your strength— it might be different now, but it is still there. Perhaps even more than before.

She joins him in the corner of the cell, seeking refuge in the warmth provided by his large form. ALARIC’s vast, soft body, a source of so much personal shame and struggle, becomes in this moment a haven against the cold. His arms, though large and fat-laden, wrap around her, offering comfort and an unexpected sense of safety.

As they sit closely, ZEE, driven by a mix of necessity and curiosity, begins to explore the prince's altered physique. She gently presses against the folds of his body, each part yielding under her touch. ALARIC’s face, now round and full, is almost unrecognizable from the prince he once was. Only his bright blue eyes, still sharp and clear, hint at the man who once stood confidently before his subjects.

ZEE (whispering): We might use this, your grace. If you could bend the bars just by leaning on them...

PRINCE ALARIC (intrigued, his voice a mixture of hope and resignation): What are you suggesting?

ZEE (her voice low, conspiratorial): If we can weaken the bars enough, I might slip through. Once outside, I can seek help. There are those who still remain loyal to you, to the true crown.

Their plan begins to take shape in the dim light of the dungeon. Each day, under the guise of simple movements, ALARIC uses his immense weight as a tool, subtly stressing the bars of his cell. ZEE, with renewed purpose, carefully monitors their progress, her frailty belied by her determined spirit.

PRINCE ALARIC (encouragingly): We will make this work, Zee. For the kingdom, for all we have lost