She’s taken to skipping the reprimand. Warship knows her for her supposed tongue-lashings, though she can’t really recall when she ever gave him one. Except as a child, when she simply did things to amuse herself. There was little to do as a princess without anyone else to play with, and when your father hardly let her stray four feet into the pine forest. Not that she listened, mind you, but she could only escape so often.
No, her method is simple. Fail the Chamber, be demoted or exiled or whatever punishment fits the crime. She did give second chances. She did not give third chances. It seemed to work well enough. Those that loved the Chamber would serve it, and they would succeed. Those that did not deserve their positions would not keep them. It was simply enough. She required no more of her kingdom mates than she did of herself. It only seemed fair.
He flirts, and she flicks her tail slightly, giving him something of an eye raise. It doesn’t actually bother her, of course, but she’ll act for a moment like she might be annoyed. It’s clear, however, she is not. There’s that mischievous twinkle in her eye. Not that she planned to do anything with this particular flaming stallion. For the most part, stallions did not impress her in a physical sort of way. Her one son was a product of the Chamber, not love or lust.
There were exceptions. Well, there was one exception. But that was neither here nor there at the moment.
She breaks down and laughs at his next comment though. “You might be,” she says with a wicked little grin. Of course, she suspects there are plenty of mares that would fall head over heels for someone who could, if he tried, maybe manage charming. And he could do tricks, and half of them just liked the idea of having a traited child. As if a trait made their child special.
“Who said madness means fool? Being mad, my friend, can be very useful indeed.” They probably all were a little mad. They lived in a kingdom with a heart beneath their hooves, with a tree that burned perpetually, with a collection of horses that longed not for peace but destruction. It was that madness that she loved. It was a calm, cool, dangerous sort of madness.
Though she is not mysterious. She is blunt and honest and to the point, unless such doesn’t suit the needs of the Chamber at the moment. But she has no secrets from her kingdom mates. Secrets had destroyed her father, and they would not do the same to him. She may rule, but she did not control. “It depends,” she says after a pause, thinking about his question. “I will only be disappointed if I failed my kingdom, and then I will only be disappointed in myself. But if I am able to hand over the crown because this place stays like this, and has flourished so thoroughly that the choice for the next monarch is hard, then I will be pleased. “
Not relieved though. Relieved seemed like the wrong word. She would wear the crown forever, if that were what the Chamber asked of her. Such was the depth of her dedication, but there was no obvious division between where Straia ended and where the Chamber began. She simply was part of her home, and one day, should the Chamber no longer need her, she’d give her blood and bones back to the earth that gave her life.
straia
the raven queen of the chamber