The Mad Queen sat alone in her hive, listening to the voices.
“So much blood,” said the golden walls, carved like honeycombs. Thousands of tiny, hexagonal mouths, everywhere, everywhere.
“So much loss.”
“The infamous Queen Bee of Endalia, abandoned.”
Beatrix rose from her throne on unsteady limbs, her golden-and-pitch gown flowing behind her. The fine point of her blackened blade scraped against the throne, painting a line of blood. Prince Siden of Aesland thought he had pierced her heart with her own stinger. He missed, probably due to the effect of the poison after she struck him first. But she was still dying.
She looked down and saw the golden hilt of her sword protruding from her chest like an unwieldy broach. She breathed a foam of blood.
“All lost,” said the walls as Beatrix walked down the waxy carpet of her royal hall, now a blackened red. Her guards lay in heaps, ignored, forgotten.
“Forgotten,” echoed the walls.
The queen had to leave. She had to escape the mouths.
“A legacy lost.”
“Another hive burned away.”
“Drown in a river.”
“Beaten to pulp by a sweet-toothed bear.”
At last, Beatrix emerged through the still-open doors of her palace. The sun shone as gold as honey in the morning light of her burning kingdom. She slid her stinger from her chest and dropped it all a-clatter to the cobblestone steps, where she collapsed.
As the poison from her own blade took her last breath, she bathed in the light of the honeycomb sun.
Today’s three prompt categories were, “Queen bee,” “These walls could talk,” and, “The sun.”
I really shouldn’t introduce characters by killing them. Now I want to know more about this queen bee.