She cannot sympathize with her son. It is not that she doesn’t want to, but simply that she has no similar experience, and she will not demean his by pretending she understands. She does not, and cannot. She has her own experiences – the death of her mother, overthrowing her own father – and she does not expect him to understand those either. She can, of course, listen. But she is not the kind of mother to go following her son around asking him what’s wrong either.
The ravens follow him, of course, but they are instructed to follow every Chamber member. It’s not that she doesn’t trust them, but rather it comes in handy to know where they are should something happen or should she need them. She can use a raven easily enough to convey a message. The ravens that follow the Chamber members are rather good at staying a bit out of earshot, only moving closer when the conversation might actually be of use to Straia. They are intuitive, those birds. But she does not know the inner workings of their minds, or the personal words spoken between bed sheets. She doesn’t need those details.
So what she knows of her son is, in large part, because he is her son. He hides it well, but she notices the disappearances, knows he’s wandering through the pine forests more than usual. He knows that leaving his duty behind is not something he does without reason. It is for this reason, and this reason alone, that he is still Lord. Though unless he proves himself somewhat quickly, she will be forced to hold him to the same standard as she holds everyone else, including herself. It is only fair, and despite everything Straia is, she also strives to be fair.
She waits for him to seek her out. He is lucky, because today she is actually alone. She would never admit it, but she has come to have a particular favorite tree. It is not the magic one that burns (though she loves that tree as well, enjoy’s watching it’s progress through the years). No, rather it is a rather unassuming tree, a tad older than the rest. Why? Because Weed simply made it older. Made it for her. And she cannot help but enjoy the gift, just a bit.
She smiles slightly at her son, a quiet smile that is far more genuine than the mischievous grin she often wears. “Thank you for actually telling me. Everyone else just assumes I know and they never bring me news at all.” Which was true. She’d have to hunt each and every one of them out if she still had to rely on her kingdom for information. The ravens were far better at actually reporting back. “They sent a foolish girl and a slightly more worthwhile mare. I intend to go and meet their King, since he couldn’t be bothered to come to his only ally. But I admit, I’m biding my time.”
She hasn’t decided what she thinks of the new Valley King yet. She hasn’t heard much that interests her, but perhaps he simply isn’t making his real plans known quite yet. Perhaps he will prove to be fun, but she thinks he might just prove to be soft. Though she’ll give him the benefit of the doubt for now – he has a whole kingdom to build.
She gives him a moment to voice any opinion he might have. She doesn’t know what he’s heard, if anything, other than there’s a new king. But then she moves on, because at the moment, she’s not entirely bothered with the Valley right now. They were not a very powerful ally. “The Amazons has a new Queen as well. Lagertha. Apparently Camrynn is visiting.” The ravens would tell her what comes of that soon enough. But that alliance could potentially be devastating to the Chamber. They could not stand against both kingdoms without a strong ally themselves. And who?
Maybe they can snag one of the kingdoms away. Shame both the Deserts and the Amazons tend to be upstanding.
She pauses for a moment, again, giving him time to give his opinion. She respects his view of things, though they often share the same view. Still, it is good to get other opinions, and she knows he won’t simply plow into a fight that would destroy the kingdom they have just rebuilt.
When he is done, she adds, “I know you are Lord, and I am Queen, but you are also still my son and I your mother. If you ever want to talk, Erebor, I am here.” Her voice may not be as soft as a cuddly mother’s might be, she might not wrap him in her embrace. But she loves her son, in her own way. And she would do what she could. But the colors in his mane and the tattoo on his leg speak of far more than she knows of her son’s endeavors.
straia
the raven queen of the chamber
Use of mild power playing is allowed; no injuries without permission