05-04-2015, 02:27 PM
He is the first Prince of Ash, just as she is the first Queen of Ash and Ruin. Her father’s parting gift to her, of course. Even if he did it unintentionally, still what else could she have expected? He’d given her very little and so very much all at once. Sometimes she imagines that he never planned to turn her into what he did. Mostly, Rodrik ignored her, giving her enough care to stay alive and be useful and little more. Not as her mother had, before her mother was murdered. Not as Straia and Warship gave to Erebor (they may not coddle, but they were certainly present).
But the very lack of love from her father was the thing that turned her into him. Though she likes to think that she’s also learned enough from him to keep from making the same mistakes. Rodrik put his trust in no one, and though Straia knew better than to fully trust anyone, the Chamber would not be left out of decisions. Well, not most of them, anyway. She wouldn’t plot behind their back, wouldn’t make selfish decisions that affected the whole Chamber.
There are so many secrets that her father has, but she’s suspicious of many of them. Perhaps she will never have proof, but still, she’s enough like her father to know what he’s capable of.
Erebor reminds him that despite the ash (or perhaps, in some ways, because of it) the kingdom is still beautiful. She smiles slightly, a quirk of the corner of her lips. “I knew him when I was a child. My panther man,” she says, her voice somewhat nostalgic. “He let me touch him in that form. It was different. Power in a way you and I will never know.” She thinks of the muscles beneath his black fur, the claws that jutted from padded paws.
He asks when, and she pauses for a moment trying to recall exactly. “Two years before your birth.” Rodrik ruled for the first year of that, though they saw him once in an entire year. So Straia took her chance and took the throne, and had Erebor not long after. Every monarch needs an heir. “All of the kingdoms. The disasters were different everywhere. A drought in the Falls, fires in the Gates, a snow storm in the Jungle. I don’t know them all, truthfully.”
In the end, it didn’t really matter. They all healed faster than the Chamber could, with the aid of land or magicians or both. But the Chamber? The Chamber simply powered through, made stronger by their perseverance. She does have her suspicions that Eight and Evrae were behind it. She’s heard rumors from those in the kingdoms when the disasters occurred. But in some ways, she doesn’t blame him. If she had his power, wouldn’t she have done the same? Probably, truthfully. She didn’t trust her ally, but she’d rather have him as a tenuous friend than an outright enemy.
But the very lack of love from her father was the thing that turned her into him. Though she likes to think that she’s also learned enough from him to keep from making the same mistakes. Rodrik put his trust in no one, and though Straia knew better than to fully trust anyone, the Chamber would not be left out of decisions. Well, not most of them, anyway. She wouldn’t plot behind their back, wouldn’t make selfish decisions that affected the whole Chamber.
There are so many secrets that her father has, but she’s suspicious of many of them. Perhaps she will never have proof, but still, she’s enough like her father to know what he’s capable of.
Erebor reminds him that despite the ash (or perhaps, in some ways, because of it) the kingdom is still beautiful. She smiles slightly, a quirk of the corner of her lips. “I knew him when I was a child. My panther man,” she says, her voice somewhat nostalgic. “He let me touch him in that form. It was different. Power in a way you and I will never know.” She thinks of the muscles beneath his black fur, the claws that jutted from padded paws.
He asks when, and she pauses for a moment trying to recall exactly. “Two years before your birth.” Rodrik ruled for the first year of that, though they saw him once in an entire year. So Straia took her chance and took the throne, and had Erebor not long after. Every monarch needs an heir. “All of the kingdoms. The disasters were different everywhere. A drought in the Falls, fires in the Gates, a snow storm in the Jungle. I don’t know them all, truthfully.”
In the end, it didn’t really matter. They all healed faster than the Chamber could, with the aid of land or magicians or both. But the Chamber? The Chamber simply powered through, made stronger by their perseverance. She does have her suspicions that Eight and Evrae were behind it. She’s heard rumors from those in the kingdoms when the disasters occurred. But in some ways, she doesn’t blame him. If she had his power, wouldn’t she have done the same? Probably, truthfully. She didn’t trust her ally, but she’d rather have him as a tenuous friend than an outright enemy.
straia
queen of the chamber