Junae stood frozen, her heart pounding against her ribs as she watched her mother wage an impossible battle against King Ghidorah's towering form. The three-headed dragon's golden scales gleamed menacingly in the twilight, each serpentine neck weaving through the smoke-filled air like living whips. Her mother's attacks seemed to bounce harmlessly off the creature's armored hide, and Junae could see the exhaustion in her movements growing with each passing moment.

Blood trickled from a gash above her mother's left eye, and her once-pristine battle armor now bore deep scratches and dents. The monster's mocking screeches echoed across the battlefield, each head taking turns to launch searing beams of lightning that her mother barely managed to dodge. With each near miss, Junae's stomach twisted tighter – the terrible truth becoming clearer by the second: her mother, despite all her strength and skill, was fighting a losing battle.

Rodan and Mothra – beings Junae had once thought of as her mother's most loyal allies – remained perched on distant cliffs like cowardly spectators. Their betrayal cut deeper than any wound as they watched the Queen of Monsters fall before their very eyes. Rodan's wings stayed folded against his pterodactyl-like body, his usual fearsome screech silenced by what could only be fear or submission. Mothra's luminescent wings dimmed, her usual protective instincts seemingly crushed under Ghidorah's overwhelming presence.

The execution happened in a heartbeat. One of Ghidorah's heads struck like a cobra, golden scales flashing in the dying light as massive jaws clamped around her mother's neck. The sickening crack echoed across the battlefield, followed by a moment of horrible silence. Then, with deliberate cruelty, the central head flung her mother's remains directly at Junae's feet, where it rolled to a stop facing her – those fierce eyes that had once held such power now empty and lifeless.

Ghidorah's middle head lowered to Junae's level, lightning crackling between its teeth as it spoke. The dragon's voice rumbled like distant thunder, each word dripping with malevolent triumph: "There's your mother, little princess." Yellow eyes blazed with cruel satisfaction as all three heads focused on her trembling form. "Now you serve me."

Junae sank to her knees, her head bowing low before the three-headed tyrant. Her mother's blood stained the ground beneath her, seeping into the soil like a final insult to their legacy. Around her, the assembled monsters – creatures she'd once seen as family – lowered their heads in submission to their new king. Rodan's wings drooped in surrender, while Mothra's glow dimmed to barely a flicker.

But beneath her show of submission, something burned in Junae's chest – a flame of hatred and revenge that grew hotter with each beat of her heart. As she pressed her forehead to the ground before Ghidorah, her fingers curled into fists, nails drawing blood from her palms. She would play the obedient princess, yes. She would serve this alien usurper, this golden demon who had destroyed everything she loved.

But in secret, that flame would grow into an inferno. She would train, learn, and wait for her moment. One day, when the false king least expected it, she would show him that her mother's blood carried more than just royal heritage – it carried the power to destroy even a god. She would tear those golden scales from his worthless alien body one by one, and make him regret the day he ever dared to challenge her family.