They saw them through the fire and the smoke: Queen's powerful figure was towering over the Chessboard.
The Pawn was miles away, they were so helpful and brave during the battle. Why did they run away? Why wouldn't they want to share this moment of triumph with them?
The Pawn watched the Queen in a circle of their generals. They wanted to cry: they'd never be close enough, they'd never be on their level, they'd never be their friend.
The Queen searched through the crowd the mysterious Pawn, they were intrigued by them, by their skill and their character. The Pawn must've hated them for their position, the fact that they had to give them orders. The Queen knew they weren't a good person. The Pawn was right in staying away from them.
The Pawn wanted to know everything, they crossed all the lines, they were painfully aware of everything, of these stupid rules, these stupid people for whom their lives were but a game. They wanted to tear apart their own wooden body, make a boat and float off from the Game of Chess. The only person that could make them stay was the Queen. But that could never happen.
The Pawn was glorious, witty, successful in their ascent, the Queen was supposed to be guiding them, and they loved it. But the imbalance of power was too obvious.
One day the Pawn reached the frontier and turned into a Queen themself. They elongated, sprawled their metaphysical wings. They were as beautiful as before, the power suited them but didn't change a thing about their character and demeanor.
The two Queens looked at each other.
I see you, I always did - said the Queen
I see you too, I want you. - admitted the Pawn.
Let us get away from this. The Queen gestured toward the devastated Board with burned logs sticking out of the putrid ground.
Gladly.