"So, your highness," the Professor begins, observing you with a studious stare. "Could you please explain the full condition of your aunt and planet?"

You stand stiffly in the center of the room, surrounded by the crew, watched with wide, inquisitive eyes. Taking in and releasing a breath, you begin to describe the woes of your planet.
"My Aunt Diana is a power-hungry woman. She nearly killed my mother in an attempt to marry my father and take control of the throne. Because of this, she was sent to live out the rest of her days in the Exile Lands, with the other murderers, traitors and ruffians. We did not expect her to survive- nor thrive- for this long. She rose to become the leader of all that dwell in the Exile lands, and one Luna cycle ago, she attacked, and threw my family and I into the dungeons and stocks.." you trail off, your bottom lip trembling as tears sting your eyes. "She... she executed my grandfather seven solis cycles ago.. and plans to end my mother and father the moment I return to Lumina Stellar."

As you finish, you feel a shift in the air, one of discomfort, horror, and grief. A few murmurs of 'sorry's echo out in the otherwise melancholy air, and you feel a deep pit form in your stomach, overtaken by your nearly hopeless situation. Your aunt is searching for you... bloodthirsty, more than ready to kill you and your family in the blink of an eye.

~~

Across the galaxy, on the planet of Lumina Stellar, a beautiful, feared woman lounges on a glimmering, jeweled throne. The paired seat was thrown to the side and smashed to pieces, and looted of the diamonds and jewels embedded in the gold, all under her authority.

She sports a silver polished breastplate, with shining gloves and boots specked with blood. Leather is worn underneath to prevent chaffing, a magnificent, smooth, black leather that matches her lipstick. Her eyes, cold and breathtaking, scan over the row of kneeling peasants and traitorous soldiers. As the stands, the warriors she commands step back in mute terror. A smirk plays at her lips as she observes this.

"You kneel before me, your life in my hands, forbeing disloyal to your queen," her boots thud softly on the marble floors, herarmor clinking with every graceful movement. Her long, scarlet red hair nearlysweeps the floor in its multiple, interwoven braids.

"You are not, nor ever will be our queen," a woman in rags spits blood at her shoes, receiving a blow to the neck from the blunt end of Diana's staff. The others look up at her in horror, shaking in their spots. They hadn't noticed her weapon a moment ago, in fact, her hands were completely empty when she approached them.

"It would be wise to watch your tone with me," she presses the sharp tip of her half spear, half staff to the woman's neck. "Or you won't live after the next strike." Her voice is icy and bitter, with playfulness and amusement lacing her tone. She turns to her soldiers and smirks once more, gesturing over one. He obediently steps forward, gulping slightly as she sensually trails her hand up his arm.
"My love, would you mind doing your queen a favor?" She whispers allusively.

"O-of course, my queen. What would you have me do?" The solider replies in an anxious voice.

Diana leans close to his ear, her black lips brushing against his skin as she whispers with a voice that paralyzes all men who hear it, that make them crave her in ways unimaginable.
"Kill them~" she purrs, turning away in the blink of an eye.

His eyes gloss over with what can only be described as Diana's dark lust magic, compelling him to do her bidding no matter what stands in his way.

The pleas of the peasants are ignored as the soldiers carry them away to their Death March. Queen Diana laughs as she reclines on the throne with a wide sneer.

"Princess Y/n, your kingdom is falling, your people dying, and still you hide like the filthy worm you are~" she hums, listening toher seductive voice echo in the spacious throne room. How she loves to gloat, even if there is no one to gloat at. She will bask in her victories even if she is the last person alive in the galaxies.

Back on the Fugitoid's ship, staring out into space, you seem to sense her reveling in her success, and feel more hopeless than ever.

"Kinda scary, isn't it?" Raphael remarks, appearing next to you quite suddenly. You jerk back in surprise, then take a breath and relax.

"What? The hollowness of space, or the fate of your entire planet resting on your shoulders?" You ask with a soft, depressed voice, your eyes full of pain and distress as you almost hear the screams of your people.

"Both," he sighs, his shoulders sagging. His voice is laced with the same despair you bear. You look up at him as he stares out into the void. "Us earthlings think space is so cool, while being so terrifying... but this... this isn't that cool. Our world will be destroyed unless we stop the Triceritons. Yours is doomed unless you stop your aunt. I find that more terrifying than anything." He pauses a moment and shudders slightly. "Even bugs."

While you're unsure why he's having this sudden heart-to-heart with you, you accept it and nod in agreement.

"I'd give anything to see my family all together again.. anything in the galaxy," you whisper, feeling just a tad better now that you have someone to talk with.

"Same here."