viciousEmpress

Post Your Pikcha

fuck. here.



pls dont tell me to smile.

EF & VE

You see when Delphinia glances at you, and you smile softly, briefly. Your mother's gaze is intense on her, as if she's thinking about what to say. What to do. And then she turns to you, startling you again.

"What do you think should be done, Alania?"

Your eyes widen slightly, because it's not what you expect. You don't expect to be given any sliver of power over things such as these until after your coronation, and yet, here you are.

"You mean...done to her?" you specify.

"Yes."

You look down at the tamer. Your eyes set into the same expressionless your mother bears. Then, the words that come out of your mouth sound almost foreign to your own ears. "I think she should be rewarded," you say, even knowing this is not going to be favorable with your mother. "For all she's done, how quickly she's gotten the news to us, considering the circumstances."

EF & VE

Again, you watch your mother's face. It's as expressionless as ever as she listens to the tamer's explanation, and you lean back in your chair as you await the outcome. You had your suspicions that this would result in the tamer's death, and for some reason, it made your heart clench more at that thought than the thought of having your own mother murdered. Perhaps it was the fact that your friend -- you mean, the tamer, was always so innocent and lively. More so than your mother, a stone-cold, murderous wretch.

"Look up, Delphinia," your mother orders, and you're surprised that she remembers the tamer's name. Even you, who played with her many days of the year in the garden, could not recall it until now.

EF & VE

There's an eerie hush between the three of you as the tamer utters the last words the Empire will fall. You study your mother's face closely, but her expression has turned to stone, completely indecipherable. How unfair is the only thing you can think. That your Empire should be prophesied to fall just before your proclaimed ruling. You cross your arms over your chest and sink in your seat, waiting for your mother to speak. To fix this. If you are to be the empress, you absolutely demand this be fixed before your coronation. There is no way, in the furthest, deepest pit of hell, that you will let your empire fall before you even get a chance to seize it.

"I see," your mother finally speaks, startling you slightly. You sit up straighter and listen with bated breath. "I can only wonder why I was not informed of this before now, should you have known."

Her own violet eyes are piercing into the female before you, and even you can feel its intensity. Its burn. You wonder if your mother could sense a half-truth or falsehood in the tamer's words. That maybe, perhaps, she had known long before now about the conjuring.

EF & VE

The news of any type of a rebellion at any given time should be expected, you think. However, your mother tenses beside you. Your brows draw close together as you give her a questioning look, and she returned your look with an expression of unsaturated fear. You look below her top expression and can sense that she is uneasy, but for what reason, you don't know. It wasn't like there hadn't been covens formed to bring down the kingdom before.

Your mother squares her shoulders and looks down to the tamer. Her voice has a boom that, although feminine, could strike fear even into your heart, should you be afraid of your mother, which you are not. Nor do you think you will ever be. A crooked smile tugs at your lips as you think of one of your other plans as empress-to-be: dispose of your mother.

"I want to know," she begins, taking strategic pauses that you know are simply for dramatic effect, "whether this information was conjured by their own external sight, or internal."

Now, you think you understand why you are uneasy. If it was viewed with physical eyes that there was a rebellion rising up, it would not be much of a situation. As stated, these things happen fairly commonly. However, should the dragons have felt the presence of a rebellion with their inward sight, as it is suggested, it would be more dire, taking into consideration that they felt the matter urgent enough to alert the empress and heiress.

EF & VE

Your name is Alania Bryton and you are an empress-to-be. The royal bloodline has never bothered with requiring a leading male to build and maintain a kingdom. Whether or not you secure a husband before your twentieth birthday is as irrelevant as whether or not you own a certified purebred pet of any sorts before then. The only thing that is relevant or important before then is your training. Your abilities. Your willingness to rule.

And you are so ready and willing to rule.

The first thing you are going to do is throw the most extravagant gathering the kingdom has ever been blessed enough to witness. This is the highlight of your excitement and readiness to rule. The grandeur of the lavish life as the one and only supreme leader of a vast land stretching over miles and miles of the vicinity. Thoughts of having anything you wanted at the whim of your command overwhelm you. You are giddy with the absolute exhilarating anticipation of the moment the crown sits upon your manicured and spoiled head.

“Ruling,” your mother reminds you, “is a more delicate and difficult art than you have ever taken part of.”

You want to shrug her away as she runs her fingers through your curled, blonde hair. You don’t care about the art. The proclaimed “difficulty” of being a leader. One thing you are not going to subject yourself to doing is making difficult choices that will weigh on your conscious. No, that’s not something you’re going to suffer. One of the next things you are going to do, as a supreme leader, is appoint a specific and trusted person, through careful and strategic thought, to handle all of the politics and diplomacies. And you. You will just relish in your heightened luxuries.

“I know, mother,” you answer her with a polite and dainty smile. “I will not let you down.”

“So comes forth the dragon tamer,” she whispers to you, straightening up in her seat.

Ah, yes. The dragon tamer. What could she possibly have to tell you this time? You remember her. You remember being young, less than eleven years old. You and she played games in the courtyard. This was before her talent was known. Before she was subjected to more responsibilities than you ever wanted to possess in your lifetime. You know that she remembers you, too, even though she was abruptly whisked away and was never more in your presence for a few years after. Your violet eyes study her, burning into her. She doesn’t look up, because nobody dares look up in the presence of the empress or empress-to-be. For some reason, her subordination tugs at your heart. Before, she was such a lively soul. A confident one. You know that her fiercity has not run out. You know that she is as rebellious without the presence of royalty as ever.

You know it.