Behind every man is a woman.

And left behind by the hungry man is something that barely fits the mold.

Perhaps it's because of the emerald tone her skin contains, or the snakes in place of her hair, or her ear-to-ear grin, or her ridiculously small stature that could get Haelrhyx thrown behind bars if nobody knew.

Or perhaps it was her snoring into the afternoon, sleeping away when no Queen should.

Maybe both.

Xasne Daidroxa, Witch of the Wastes, Queen of Alteria, snoozes without a care in the world. Any other Queen would've been up hours ago, tackling the intricacies needed to run a country, but not her. She's busy tackling sheep in her dreams, coating her fantasy fists in the fantasy blood of fantasy lambs as she slinks deeper into her cocoon of blankets and warmth. It's a good life.

But no life is perfect, not even hers.

Such comfort is awfully cold, even with the exquisitely crafted sheets she curls under. As much as she finds his pestering annoying, it's quite lonely without him. There was no warmth, nor sleep, to be found in a bed of solitary, partially because of Rex's missing presence, but also because of the noise he makes when he leaves.

"God, can't he not summon monsters through our oven in the morning…"

Xasne groans against the clashing of pots and pans in the distance, rising from her comforter cave and hissing to the dastard sun. Squinting against the rays that land on her eyes, she wonders why it chose her face, out of all the choices present, to land on. It's not like her forehead was that big of a target.

Okay, it kind of is. But still.

Accepting that the fifth sun is feeling like a misogynistic bastard, she turns from the window and to the door, taking the first of many steps off the bed.

"Maybe a coffee would be nYAH-"

She stiffens, her voice caught in her throat as dread climbs up her legs. The sensation grips tight, its hold driving a shiver up her limbs. Instinct claims her, and she scurries back to the comfort of her comforter, and to the inevitable beam of sun that chose to fuck with her today.

"Stupid fuckin' tiles. This is why I wanted a fuckin' carpet."

And to make matters worse, her slippers are gone.

What was supposed to be two dainty red slippers were something she could only consider as massive piles of shit. Rex's footwear. It sits there, at her side of the bed for some odd reason, just waiting. Biding its time for her to suck it up and don them on.

"Not today, turdheads."

And not ever. She's not mean. It's not like they were actual pieces of dog crap. It's just that it was shaped like one. Rex swears that they're giant bagels, but with the swirl and everything else, she's doubtful.

"My poor slippers…" Xasne frowns.

She grimaces at the thought of her tiny little slippers on his big dumb feet, wondering if the sad pile of broken dreams gets another member. At this point, they could very well gain sentience and start a music group.

How he confuses hers for his, with its giant offense to everything that sees on top, she'll never know. It's not like he's dumb as a rock or something.

Wait, maybe he is.

With that question answered, the only problem left is traversing the icy planes of The Bedroom. No way was she using his fugly ass slippers. There was always the possibility of using magic to float all the way to the kitchen for a cup of joe, but is she really that desperate? She has a code to uphold, after all.

Thou shan't... something.

It had something to do with procrastinating. She'll try to remember it later.

Staring into the cold marble floor, with her system craving her daily dose of caffeine, only one thought came to mind.

"Oh, what the fuck."

Did she really spend half a morning wondering how to tackle a cold floor? She did. It hurts to think that she did.

Grumbling, she gathers all the spite in her body and steps onto the marble, biting the discomfort away as she scurries to the kitchen.

"Now that wasn't so bad."

It was.

It sucked badly.

She held in the most cursed of words. Her nails threatened to dig into her palms. The snakes on her head looked like toothbrushes from how stiff they were.

Why did they choose to live in this massive castle? They could've had it demolished when they took over. Create some sort of apartment complex. But no, Rex had to get the whole thing. Stupid. Now, look at them. Lots of floors too cold to walk on in the morning. Lots of halls nobody uses. It would've been nice if they had servants, someone to make them breakfast in bed. It's the least they deserve.

Sigh.

She's here now. No use complaining. The only thing left now was to get herself a cup of coffee. Staring through the already open door, she sees Rex and what appears to be yet another burnt bagel. Her eyes roll in who-gives-a-shit. All she wants is coffee to kickstart her day. Nothing more, nothing less.

And yet, she comes to pity the fool fated to eat the bagel. That fool being the very man heading straight for her.

That very man who, upon seeing her tired mug, thinks it best to drag her along to some hunt she couldn't give less shit of.

That man who, upon receiving the short end of her love, now lies on the floor with an imprint of her fist on his cheek, twitching ever so slightly as he feebly tries to gather the shards of consciousness currently slipping away.