The plains were abuzz with nervous tension, and the men stood in rows by the thousand, clad in the finest, glittering black steel armor. Behind them, the monolithic walls of Uru'baen stood high, gleaming and shining, guard towers posted at regular intervals in the rock. In the city proper, its buildings of glass and stone stood similarly immovable, and the rock outcropping beneath which the castle lay was as comfortable a blanket and shield as it was an assurance that the city would not fall this day.

And yet… amidst the army, stock still in their ranks, there was doubt. And a lot of it.

It started a month prior, outside Dras Leona. The city just… disappeared. No word whatsoever. All those who traveled to the city never returned and were unable to send any information back to the King or the rest of the Imperial agents. The Empire had lost no shortage of holds through the course of this civil war, but to have an entire city of more than one hundred thousand people just up and… vanish like that? It was a cause for concern, to say the least.

And then… there were the fliers.

Three weeks prior, hundreds of thousands of leaflets found themselves drifting in the winds, blanketing the streets of Uru'baen with a message written in all the tongues of the peoples that called Alagaesia home: 

Attention, citizens of Uru'baen. This is your new queen speaking. The war is lost. If you wish to avoid summary obliteration, it is in your interest to evacuate the city posthaste. 

If you come in peace, the Varden shall welcome you. However, if you show any resistance, you shall have no hope in anything except your imminent death.

This message is not meant to warn you. This message is meant to save you.

- Nasuada, Queen of the Broddring Empire

The Varden queen referring to herself as the Queen of Galbatorix’s empire was the first hint that this was probably meant to merely psyche out Galbatorix’s forces. Most of the citizens who read the message considered it yet another attempt by the Varden at the sort of psychological warfare they had become so accustomed to using. Anyone with half a brain knew that the Varden simply did not have the numbers to maintain any hope of controlling the vast swathes of land that encompassed the kingdom. At the very least, it should not be happening as quickly as it did. It is more likely that those cities were in siege, and the Varden was somehow able to cut off all contact between the capitol and its branches. Nevertheless, as the 

And yet… there were still the unofficial accounts. Of… something. Those that got away, usually jailed swiftly by Galbatorix for disturbing the peace with their incoherent ramblings, speaking of… her. Some sort of creature. A female creature. A giant female creature, with the power to destroy buildings and nations in one single step and was wont to gulp down scores of men by the boatload. Learned men might assume they were speaking of that blue dragon Saphira that Eragon rode around on. But those who escaped often insisted it was a creature of a different variety. A more humanoid variety.

And then, there were the tremors. The odd, unnatural tremors that could be heard for leagues and leagues in any direction. They felt like small earthquakes, but their frequency cast their true origin into question. They felt unnatural, like… footsteps… of some sort.

These combinations of stress and fear led to many such citizens to heed Nasuada’s warning. Uru'baen had been leaking citizens by the dozens until Galbatorix mandated that no more citizens were allowed to leave the city unless on official Imperial business. That said, the fact that few had seen Galbatorix in the past month raised suspicions of its own that something larger was afoot.

It was questions like these and many more that occupied the minds of the city guard of Uru'baen, the last stronghold of Galbatorix’s army. Lances raised, swords drawn, they stood relatively assured that whatever the Varden had in store for them, the citadel would not fall. Hopefully.

FWAHOOOOOOM!

The sound of a war horn, coming in the directions of the vast open plain. The Imperial soldiers recognized the sound well. And yet, it did not come accompanied with the image of dust, thrown up by hundreds of horses arriving from beyond the valley. Or the stamps of hundreds of armored boots on the march, preparing to meet the Empire in martial combat. No, this time, the horn had a clear, single and identifiable source.

There, on the valley, was one woman, walking leisurely. Instantly, the guard captain recognized her as the Queen of the Varden. There was no man, woman, or child in Uru'baen that was not familiar with her striking, richly pigmented regal face, filled with equal capacity for beauty and terror. 

That said, currently her face was most definitely not the aspect of her visage that the troops were focused on. That would be her body. Most every patch of skin that she wore was completely bare, eschewing fabrics, and instead adorned by some form of chain, ring, necklace, or otherwise exorbitant piece of jewelry, customary of her ancestral tribe. Her bountiful breasts swung out with each step her bare feet took, and her groin was only covered by one exceptionally long adornment about her neck, hanging a golden metal disc directly before that nether region. Her backside was bare, and though the soldiers could not see from this angle, they could only imagine the beauty held within that aspect of the Varden queen. Upon her brow, a massive headpiece was situated, the ancestral heirloom of her fathers and forefathers. 

The guard captain observed her bare yet clothed visage with interest. A ploy to entice a great many of the soldiers present to likely experience second thoughts at apprehending and eventually executing Nasuada. 

Well, the guard captain scoffed. Despite the welling up he felt in his leggings, this would not work.

Even from hundreds of feet away, they could easily see the woman standing alone, patiently, holding a war horn. She tossed it aside as Galbatorix’s forces observed her with suspicion. The guard captain kicked the spurs into his own horse, which galloped forth, drifting along and trotting in a circle before Nasuada as he met the Varden Queen.

“I hope you bring terms of your unconditional surrender,” the haughty queen said, looking several feet up at the much taller man, even without the horse he currently sat upon.

“BAH! Do not make me laugh. I know not what happened at Dras-Leona, but know this, ‘Queen’. We of Uru’baen will never bow to the likes of you. Galbatorix was, is, and will be the one true king.”

Frustrated, Nasuada replied, “I did not wish for things to come to this… Do you realize that if you surrender now, the lives of not only your people, but every citizen that yet remains in Uru’baen will be saved?”

“We prepared for a battle. That is the reality of the lives we lead, in this war.”

“I promise you, sir, it will not be much of a battle. This is your last chance…” Nasuada opened her arms, saying, “I come to you, armed with nothing except my dignity as queen. I wield not even any wards, as an expression of my goodwill. All I require you to do is lay down your weapons and bow to me.”

The guard captain replied, “I’d sooner spit in the eye of my mother and call her a donkey than I would bow to you.”

Nasuada regarded the captain with sadness, before looking past him at the ranks of waiting soldiers, and then the high walls of Uru’baen itself.

“Very well. You have made your case.”

The guard captain turned his horse and began to gallop back in the direction of the troops, preparing to lead his men for the upcoming battle, when a massive shockwave struck the plains, tripping the horse and sending the soldier from his steed and into the ground below, rolling in a ball.

Getting his bearings, the captain turned to see what in blazes had caused such a blow, only to find his words leave him.

Nasuada was growing. Jewelry and all, the woman appeared to be expanding right before his very eyes. 

“By… by the gods.”

She had just hit the fifty-foot mark, meaning she was able to crush any full-grown man or horse beneath a single foot with ease. And yet, she continued, upending earth as her bare soles expanded on the ground, the gold that reflected from the adornments glittering in the midday sun and accentuating her beauty, truly making her deific in nature.

The guard captain could only run back to the troops, getting restless with some of them ready to break formation. His horse had already turned tail and was attempting to run as far away in the opposite direction of Nasuada as possible. The captain turned behind him, yelping as Nasuada’s stern face ascended further and further into the sky, not reaching the two-hundred-foot mark.

“What are blind?! Archers, start shooting the bloody girl! Ballista, go, go! Shoot her now!” screamed the captain as he sprinted as fast as he could back to his men.

“Ballista, go! Ready the arrows!” shouted the division captains, relaying the message as well as they could to the rest of the ranks before the ranged units began to charge in on horseback, drawing their bows and unleashing them at the growing Varden queen.

To their credit, most arrows did indeed hit the target, though the level of achievement for hitting a target rapidly exceeding the size of most castles was debatable. Not that it was of consequence anyway; the shafts typically broke off upon striking the gold jewelry upon her bodice, while those that did manage to hit Nasuada’s bare skin more often bounced back from the gelatinous mass that was the Queen’s soft and supple muscle and fat reserves. The troops, brave though they were, were fighting a losing battle.

“Siege weapons! Catapults! Cannons! Magicians, I don’t bloody care!” screamed the guard captain to his troops as Nasuada’s shadow only further eclipsed the group. “Fire everything we have at this woman! NOW, do it NOW! Fire on…”

The captain had been screaming so loudly and with such force, he had barely noticed the eclipse levels of darkness that had engulfed the group. It felt as though it were nighttime. And the scores and scores of warriors before him all stood stock still.

The captain looked at them, and a chill overcame him. With a nervous, tentative motion, he turned his head to look behind him.

There, hanging above the heads of thousands of men at once, was the foot of Nasuada, now just scraping the ceiling of one thousand feet tall. Like the judgement of a cruel god, or a hungry dragon, it was suspended in the air, toes twitching and wiggling, bits of dirt and mud and grass raining upon the troops, accompanied by the earthy natural scene of Nasuada’s powerful sole, strengthened by years and years of carrying herself with the utmost dignity through the southern plains of Alagaesia. Above that foot, the golden splendor of her jewelry lit Nasuada up like a pyre, or the avatar of a verified tribal goddess of the sun. Deep, deep in her hazelnut eyes, they could see a yearning in the giantess’s expression; Nasuada was biting her lip in anticipation. For all her talk of not wanting to cause any more destruction, she was clearly enjoying this.

The silent troops saw this sight above, and clasped their gauntleted hands together, bowing their heads down, appealing to whatever higher power they could muster to escape this dreadful situation. Unfortunately for them, the highest power was currently the foot that was just now descending from above, the speed and force of the meteoric appendage compressing the air beneath it, causing it to smoke as it fell.

The foot collided with the contingent of soldiers, obliterating those at the epicenter of the blast, and causing a massive cascading shockwave to emanate from the source of the strike. Those not immediately crushed were thrown hundreds of feet in any direction, the poor horses trying their best to navigate away from the calamitous sight. The walls of Uru’baen -- which at this point reached Nasuada’s waist -- stammered and shook, ultimately staying stable despite the blast. But the Imperial encampment outside the city was now unrecognizable, instead replaced by piles of upended rubble and limestone.

And so, the dust began to settle. Like a colossus, poised mockingly above the subjects beneath it, Nasuada remained crouched, her face a twisted contortment of glee and triumph. She twisted her foot into the earth, clay-like at such an extreme size, and sent a few more shockwaves through the ground as a result.

Nasuada’s eagle eyes scanned the ground, looking for stragglers. Suffice it to say, the military might of the last vestiges of Galbatorix’s army had been permanently crippled. However, she was not here to merely defeat the Empire. She arrived to destroy them. And currently, like the rats they were, the remaining soldiers still alive were attempting to hide in the throes of buildings within the city limits of Uru’baen.

“Don’t think you can hide from me!” thundered Nasuada, as she now turned her attention to Uru’baen’s massive wall. Well, massive for humans. Nasuada was currently above such petty concerns. 

Nasuada crouched, gripping the top of the wall with both her hands. The material was like sand to her advanced strength, and she was able to tear through the material easily, despite being peppered with ballista and other small arms from the guard towers, easily dispatched of with a rogue flick of the finger.

Nasuada continued to disassemble the wall, ultimately reducing a large section of it into a pile of bricks and mortar, perfect for the Varden’s forces to enter through and occupy when she was done with the city.

Nasuada chuckled at the notion. 

Assuming there was anything left of the city.

Nasuada entered Uru’baen, her left foot gray and coated in dust, truly making her appear as though she were a statue of an ancient god come to life, ready to take revenge upon the populace for neglecting her worship. It crushed a city block close to the wall, the buildings exploding from the force of the impact. 

Nasuada continued her trek into the city, one foot in front of the other. Her trip ignored any pre-made paths and cobblestone streets, creating her own road where it landed. Perhaps when the war was over and the city was rebuilt, this new path could be named in Nasuada’s memory, she imagined. Fanciful dreaming, but now was not the time to ruminate on the future. She had to remain in the present. And in the present, Nasuada spotted movement on the ground.

“I see you…” she intoned sinisterly. She could be heard from throughout the entire city and beyond, but the group of tattered soldiers that seemed to be weaving through the brick buildings had to have known that she was talking about them, based upon their renewed vigor of their escape. Nasuada crouched down, placing her hands upon the ground (and subsequently crushing several more city blocks) and angling her face toward the section of the city where she saw the running soldiers.

There.

Nasuada raised her hand from its spot on the ground and dipped her fingers directly into the area of town she saw them in, ripping through stone, sand, glass and wood, and grabbing an entire segment of street and architecture. Amid the carnage, now in the palm of her hand, were several dozen members of the escaping Imperial regiment, regarding Nasuada with abject terror as she raised her hand up closer to her eye level. 

Nasuada smiled, and she opened her mouth. Angling her head down and creating a slope with her hand, the sand was the first to begin to spill into her gaping maw. Despite all that she had yet done at this point, Nasuada still found sand to be about as appetizing as anyone was going to consider it. And yet, her power trip found herself not even caring about the grainy taste, nor the bricks and glass shards that followed it. What she truly cared for was the group of men, trying in vain to grab onto the smooth skin of Nasuada’s palm. Desperately they clawed as the gradually inclining plane of her hand became more and more extreme until finally, they slid off, plummeting into the hungry queen’s gullet.

“Mmmmm…” Nasuada gulped loudly and contentedly. “I do hope the entire city witnessed that.

Nasuada got to her knees, her bare bottom feeling no chafing on the city that collapsed every time it made the slightest move. The gold had protected her from most of the more grating annoyances of the rubble, though Nasuada felt that she would be enjoying this even if she were bare naked.

“Do you see this?” Nasuada said, turning her head to nobody in particular, but to the generally intact homes and neighborhoods behind her. “I hope you’re paying attention,” she continued, bringing her left finger and drawing a circle along the curve that made up her left butt cheek.

“Somewhere, someone chose to defy me. Someone thought they could stand between the one true queen of Alagaesia and her birthright. Someone thought they could make a fool of me, or even contest me in the most miniscule of ways!” Nasuada punctuated this final sentence with a haughty chuckle.

“Well, I wish to show everyone present what defying the one true queen truly means.”

Nasuada then stood into a squatting position, lifting her magnanimous derriere dozens of feet above the collapsed neighborhood and moving it above the more intact sections.

“Goodbye,” said Nasuada.

And her ass came crashing down.

It slammed into the neighborhood with the grace and poise of a meteor, and leaving a similar mark, as a small crater formed in the wake of the massive shockwave, pushing back hundreds and hundreds of buildings nearby, and eliciting untold decibels of terrified screams, inflamed curses, and desperate prayers. Throughout the din, Nasuada could hear them all, and she could only close her eyes, wishing to bathe in this feeling until the end of time.

Nasuada reached her hands back, taking her ample ass and picking it up once again as she squat walked to the next intact area of the city. And she dropped it again.

The executioner’s ample ass was once again an unstoppable force, kicking up literal tons of dust, brick, and viscera as those who managed to escape the first blast were caught in the crossfire of the second. Nasuada smiled, laughing that she was able to cause this much damage with naught but her backside, and picked it up once again.

She reached the third intact section of the city when a strange sensation welled up within her. And a sinister smile crept across her face.

Nasuada decided she would not obliterate this quarter with her ass. At least not in that precise way.

With a preternatural gift, Nasuada aimed her asshole directly at the quarter of buildings and squares, puckering it with gusto before the feeling in her stomach and intestine escaped through the backside of the queen, culminating in a colossal fart, quite literally ripping through the entirety of the city, and could be heard for miles and miles on end. Windows shattered, birds fell out of the sky, and the more fragile huts and homes were literally blown apart from the forces of the noxious gas. But more than that, the menagerie of screams and cries of all kinds escalated… and ceased. Whether by death or mere passing out was inconsequential. The city would be nothing but ashes by the end of the day.

Nasuada let go of her ass, rubbing it and loving herself as she did so. It had done a good bit of work, after all. And Nasuada collapsed backwards, the sweat accumulating from both the midday sun, her recent exertion, and the conductive metal in contact with her skin. Upon laying to her full length, Nasuada spread her arms out above her head, fanning out her armpits, and began to roll across the paper-thin town centers, shops, bridges, and homes, until she was now on her stomach. She could not imagine how she must have looked to people, a colossal face, a mouth leading to an endless abyss to nowhere, the golden headgear giving her a truly godlike appearance. Whatever happened, this was sure to be either the best time of some of their lives, or the worst.

Either way, it would be the last time of their lives.

Nasuada leaned on her elbows, lifting her breasts up above the city streets, allowing them to hang freely, their bases carving paths of destruction wherever they met the ground. Nasuada lowered her face closer to the ground, attempting to get a better picture of the scene below. There, close to her, she could see a church of sorts, and through the window she saw it was hosting a cadre of people of all ages, huddled together in fear.

Nasuada licked her lips, and she raised her breasts high up into the air, cupping one into her hand, before letting go and subsequently smashing the church with complete impunity. Nasuada could feel the sad, delicious squelches as the people popped one by one upon meeting her massive milky mahogany mammaries. 

Nasuada continued to carve her path of destruction. She destroyed a university here, a plaza there, a keep here, a stray straggler running off there, and she loved absolutely every moment of it. Her heart continued to beat. She had never felt this alive. She could not believe that she was able to have her revenge against the empire which took everything from her, in so visceral a way. Just the thought of having this much power, her power… it made Nasuada… hot.

“Oh…”

Nasuada was seated on the ground, and her hand instinctively traveled down. It moved aside the disk hanging from her neck, and revealed her dripping nethers, with gallons and gallons of delectable nectar spilling out.

“Oh…” This was it. Nasuada could not contain herself.

She buried her hand in her vagina, the sticky fluid coating her fingers and palms as she recklessly stimulated herself. She would occasionally use this hand to reach out and grasp at any parts of the nearby city that had not been utterly annihilated, hoping desperately that there were people in there, and stuffing the remains into her inflamed nethers. The strength of the muscle could carelessly crush and compress and of the larger pieces anyway, though she never was able to feel the ant-like people that she wasn’t even certain she had captured. Oh well, the point was that they were there, and in their dying breaths, drowning in Nasuada’s queenly nectar, they would live out the last moments of their lives serving their soon to be coronated queen, one way or another.

“Oh, oh!” Nasuada’s labored breaths sped up, and she began to finger herself more rapidly. Yes. Oh, hell yes. The liquid was dripping out more and more, flooding what had once been a public square and was now spreading out into the connected cobblestone paths, congealing the rubble into a gelatinous mass while choking and suffocating any unlucky enough to find themselves in its sticky depths. And it would continue until finally, the queen reached a state of ecstatic climax, followed by a burst of the most extreme spurt of her fluid thus yet, followed still by a gentle dribble.

Nasuada slowed her fingering, though not completely. She lay back on the ground, one hand still inside herself. Chills were overcoming her body.

As Nasuada attempted to regain control of her breathing, she sat up.

The city was in shambles. At this point, there was not a single part of Uru’baen untouched by Nasuada’s martial might. With one notable exception.

“The citadel,” Nasuada said, out loud. The castle and military center of Uru’baen was erected at the deepest part of the city, beneath a massive rock overhang that functioned as a shield of sorts. There lied Galbatorix’s throne. Or so they said.

Nasuada smiled once more, standing to her full height so the remaining citizens could appreciate the glory of their new queen once again. With slow, purposeful steps, she walked to the citadel before raising one foot, stretching a bit but ultimately managing to set it upon the top of the rock outcropping.

“I claim this city, Uru’baen, not just for me, but for all the oppressed peoples of Alagaesia. Let it be known that if you are to oppose my rule, from here on until forever more, your fate will be the same as the fate of this once-beautiful city. And upon its destruction, I fully intend to make it beautiful again!”

And with a difficult stomp, Nasuada’s foot began to shift the rock, causing cracks to spread out through the cliff overhand. Nasuada’s muscles tensed and bulged, and she realized for the first time in this siege, she had to truly push herself to the limit. Even so, she continued, her bare-naked leg still dripping cum, and becoming even more of a waterfall the harder Nasuada flexed, until finally, a thunderclap sounded, and the stone outcropping broke into pieces, falling upon the castle built on hubris and crushing it to rubble. One last final storm of dust spread out from its epicenter, finally coating Nasuada completely in the grey particles.

Nasuada climbed up on top of the newly created cliff face and turned around to observe her handiwork, her bare ass mooning anyone who might have happened to be behind her. She could not care, for she could do nothing but smile warmly at the destruction she had caused. 

Were there any survivors? Likely, a few. However, one thing Nasuada knew for sure was that, for as long as she was alive, nobody who would hear the story of the golden goddess… none of them would ever defy her or her newly formed kingdom again.

Taking a deep breath, Nasuada crouched down, pressing her hands to the grass beneath her, and collapsed into a massive heap. The siege had taken more energy than she expected.

---

“Look, there!” cried Eragon, and Saphira angled to approach the sleeping giantess. As they passed the destroyed city, Eragon’s own heart skipped a beat. This new strategy of employing Nasuada to lay siege to cities had been effective before… but this… this felt entirely different.

Never mind that now. Saphira alighted upon the cliff edge close to Nasuada’s toe. Eragon dismounted and pressed a hand to it, tapping into the massive energy signature the sleeping giant was emanating.

“Mm hmm… yes, she’s still alive.”

Do you want me to return her to this size?

Eragon looked to Saphira, then back to the destroyed city. He sighed, and replied, “Yes… I think that would be best.”

With a lump in his throat, Eragon took one last look at the sleeping face of Nasuada, the one to whom he had sworn fealty, and realized with blood running cold, “The war is over. But I know not if we truly won.”

Saphira had no interest in such pontificating, quickly returning Nasuada to a far more manageable size. Eragon carried the sleeping queen upon Saphira’s back, strapping her in as the trio prepared to set off and return to tell the Varden of their good news.

Before he gripped Saphira’s reins, Eragon took one last longing look at the peaceful young queen, as a deep sadness overtook him.

“Sleep well, your highness. Sleep well… and sleep long.”

And with that, Saphira departed, leaving nothing left of their visit excepting a burning city and a handful of crippled survivors.