The queen watched her guards enter the room. Fred announced, "Her Majesty is tired and unwell. Take her to her room, and ensure her rest is undisturbed."

Astounded, the queen retorted sternly, "How dare you?! No one touches me!"

Fred waved dismissively. "Her Majesty is old and suffering from hallucinations. Disregard her words; her health is paramount." He gestured for the guards to escort the queen.

"You've gone mad, Fred! How dare you treat me thus? I am the queen!" she cried, desperate. Never before had she been treated so.

Receiving no response, she turned to the guards, demanding, "Stop! Are you aiding his rebellion against me?!"

"It's not precisely a rebellion," Fred said, watching as the guards led her away. A smile finally touched his lips. "However, you are too old and unfit to rule, Your Majesty!"

His pretense of fear shed, arrogance replaced it.

The guards wheeled the queen into her bedroom. Releasing the wheelchair, they departed. "Are you rebelling against me?" she asked.

They paused momentarily, then left without answering. The closing door left her feeling caged. Seizing a glass from the table, she hurled it at the door.

The shattering glass mirrored the shattering of her trust in Fred. She had never doubted his loyalty, believing him her steadfast right hand. That trust was shattered.

"How does it feel to be betrayed by someone you trusted most?" A woman behind a desk lowered her book, revealing a thin, beautiful face.

The still-furious queen answered mockingly, "Everything unfolded as you predicted. You must be pleased."

Lily smiled. "What pleasure could I derive? I am soon to die. Besides, you are in a predicament similar to mine. There's no cause for celebration, is there?"