Astraea

She sat at the end of a long entrance hall, every inch of it smooth, unforgiving marble. The marble shone so brightly from constant polishing that if you were to walk upon it, as a particular male Tundra was doing just now, your reflection would shine from every surface, just as his was. Gigantic pillars lined the sides of the hall, which was wide enough to accommodate several dragons, and had the added effect of making you feel very small. In each pillar, a reflection.

Perhaps this reflection was intentional, perhaps merely coincidental, but either way, it never failed to inspire a response in the creatures who walked down that hallway. The marble was cold, but smooth. Strong and solid, if not a bit harsh. Undeniably beautiful, but slightly unsettling. Just like the dragon that waited at the end.

Her star-kissed scales contrasted sharply with the stark black-and-white of the marble itself, but her description matched it perfectly. Her name was Astraea, and she was the ruler of these lands.

The unfortunate male Tundra walking towards her now was anything but brilliant. His name was not important. He was the ruler of nothing.

As the male approached his queen, he paused to stare at his reflection. In his mind, he had been working on a story, an excuse, a lie, something to explain his actions. But the longer he was forced to stare at his reflection, the more unnerved he became. His iron resolve began to waver, if just a little.

By the time he approached the female Imperial, lounging on the top of a marble dias, her tail dangling over its edge, he was staring at his reflection in the floor, unable to meet her gaze.

A knowing smile twitched on Astraea’s lips as she took in the dragon before her. His was the type who would accept his fate before she had even dealt it. Like most, he had tried to avoid taking responsibility for his actions, was scheming of a way to get out of what he had done. But it would not work this time. He had taken a look at himself and had despised his reflection.

“Aren’t you going to beg for mercy?”, the queen sneered down at him.

This marble hall, her court, was her favorite place to be. She relished in doling out justice where it was due, making wicked creatures pay when the universe had failed to do so.

Her closest advisors and commanders waited nearby, lining the walls of the circular courtroom, ready to spring into action without the slightest hesitation, should their queen request it. She never did.

Justice was hers, and hers alone, to deliver.