You wake up bundled in satin and silk sheets, a typical morning for the ender dragon queen. The perpetual violet haze greets your eyes when you open the blinds, not like there is any skylight to filter out. Realizing that your usual black bra and thong nightwear is likely too inappropriate for when the maids walk in to help put on your queen’s gown, you put on a silky semi-transparent black robe. It was as if a spider had woven it themselves, with the delicacy of one of their webs, too.

But this is what frustrates you. The monotony. Every morning after awaking, your endermaids would come teleporting in, even if they your tendencies to dress a little… obscene.

When you stand on the railings of your balcony, trusting the purpur stone wouldn’t crumble underneath you. And you’d have to flap your wings a few times to get used to the air dancing with your wings again. This is what you needed.

With a leap, you glide across the end stone, tilting your body to the left to land safely within your private chorus fruit garden. Finally, you could enjoy a morning without multiple endermaids trailing after you. Or your enderknights. But you didn’t need them. It’s your private garden, anyone who wanted to get in would be confronted with guards.

Bending down to pick your fourth chorus fruit, a weathered hand cusps yours. The white glow on the fruit tells you all that you need to know about the figure, or man, behind you.