Royal

Royal, the False Queen
"My loyalties lie foremost with my Family, then my Kingdom, and lastly my King."

Royal is the adviser of her majesty King Sardonic - she is the one who makes almost all the real decisions and judgments, only bothering to get the consent of the King in particularly eventful occasions. People like Royal's dictations a lot better that the King's, finding Royal fairer, and of a sounder mind. Even the King mostly agrees with this, feeling fully satisfied leaving everything in Royal's capable hands. Royal was the second of the King's subjects, and considers herself much more loyal to the court than the King herself - especially considering she's now raising a family in this so called 'kingdom'. This has lead to the citizens sometimes referring to her teasingly as 'Queen Royal'. Royal accepts this title without complaint. Royal is very good at telling people what they want to hear. Cleanly figuring out exactly how to get people to do what she wants, or getting the outcome that's best for everyone. This is part of what makes her a good leader - she's very good at getting people to do things they don't want to. Her major short coming would be her lack of self worth. Her constant white lies make her feel safe, so that people don't judge what she really thinks or feels. One of the reasons she fell in love with Regal is because his brutal honesty

helps her know exactly what he's thinking without wondering if he has any ulterior motives.

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A long time ago, when Royal was in her youth, she lived on the roads of the Zephyr Steppes.

Royal found no love or sympathy for those who worked long, hard hours for all they owned, and found her life was better suited to taking advantage of their labor by picking pockets, conning and pilfering whatever she could get her hands on. The life of a thief was exciting to her, young thing she was, and convinced herself that she was unsuited for an average life, and would tire of it, if only she tried. On her rambunctious journey she met a handsome dragon named Bravery, who she felt was like minded. As soon as their paths crossed, their life turned into a flaming romance, the kind that only young, naïve idiots are capable of. Every other breath from their mouths spoke of 'Destiny' and 'Soulmates'. Such flames are burdened to lose control - such is their lot in life. And lose control it did, not with a flicker, but with a pyre. Royal was pregnant. With each month that passed, their capers grew riskier as people learned their names and faces. Yet they dared not move further into the wilderness, for fear of the roaming beast clans. And then, one day Royal was caught by the dragons she had been stealing from her whole life, and the merry, selfish, self-indulgent dream was over. She was too pregnant to escape speedily on foot, and the snares had caught her wings anyhow. Bravery, to his credit, stayed by her each step of the way, his stubbornness and pride, for once, serving a noble purpose.

His first - and last noble act.

Bravery had been caught twice before - and there was no mercy left to share with him. Royal watched in traumatic apathy as they nailed Bravery by the throat to a wooden fence. His eyes locked with hers' as he gasped and squeaked for air. A gurgling rattle filled her ears as blood and spit bubbled and dribbled from his mouth.

A very dramatic example.

Royal had never been caught before. They gave a mark on the wrist to remind what would happen next time she was caught.

She felt sick. She felt sick. She felt sick. She needed to lay her eggs. She had no mate. Bravery was dead. She was alone.

Sick.

She vomited onto the dirt floor. The dragons that had just killed her mate looked at her with kind, worried eyes.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

She ran into the forest, plunging through trees and leaves, it was a heavy, shambling run. Burdened.

She dove into a cave she and Bravery had made once, months before. One they had given up on using because it was to near to the village, and they were afraid of being discovered.

Inside, she tore with tooth and beak, at her scales, at her feathers, at dirt and rock and her own wings. She tried not to be sick again.

When she was done, a haphazard nest of dirt, feathers and sheaths of scaled skin was made. For three days she sat, without eating, and hardly sleeping. She dared not mourn.

She couldn't. Not now. Not when the eggs where nearly here.

And then she laid them. Five. It took a while.

She couldn't believe it. Such a blessing to some mothers. But not her - she would never be able to raise them all. She couldn't. How could she?

It felt like a joke. Like something was laughing at her. Raising one hatchling to adulthood by yourself was an ordeal, but five?

She laughed. Bitter, and weak.

"At least," she murmured, "at least, I shall be kept busy."