Princess Ivy was not lonely at all.
Yes, sister was too busy preparing for the summit to play. As were the servants, maidservants and whoever else who happened to be in the castle for whatever reason. But Princess Ivy was a big girl. She did not feel lonely whenever people were too busy for her.
Okay, fine. She may—as insignificant as it was—have been feeling just a little lonely. But she was a princess! Such emotions were trifling in the face of her royal responsibilities.
It just so happened that her current royal responsibility was to be quiet and let the busy people be busy.
It wasn’t all that bad. Since the busy people were so busy being busy, the job of watching young Ivy had been swapped and handed over time and time again, to the point that while everyone knew it was someone’s job to watch the princess, no one was quite sure as to who. Not that they had time to realize the more horrendous implications of letting the lass run around unprotected, but this suited Ivy just fine—it wasn’t often she could do whatever she wanted.
Ivy was too young to participate in the summit (her social debut wouldn't be for another year) but she was curious about its happenings nonetheless. She’d never seen humans, or non-Tyrian elves, or a human prince, or whatever politics were. But she was quite curious, and learning about such things was definitely vital to her continued education as Tyrian royalty.
At least, this was her excuse for peeking in on mother and sister. Upon returning from the dress fitting, the former had rather unexpectedly reserved an unused cabinet, saying something about “needing to debrief Allaria on various political relationships she had failed to review.” Mother had also instructed the guards and servants to leave them alone by a wide margin, on account of them being “too simple and unimportant to hear such a conversation.”
Ivy loved her mother, really and truly. But the queen was rather… impatient to the pace of others, leaving her rather intimidating to talk to. Not that Ivy was scared of mother! She was a big girl and a princess, after all. One who just happened to be quite curious.
The high queen of Tyr gazed at Allaria with the same dispassion she did everyone else—the two were related, and were both dressed quite beautifully, but this seemed quite irrelevant to Queen Seraphina. Truly, a woman of priorities.
She had taken a moment drink her earlmoon tea with the controlled grace she was known for, before finally inquiring:
So Jon-boy. How the fuck are you doing?
“Allaria. Are you at all prepared for the summit, or need I fear another embarrassment on your part?”
I’m kinda hating this, Karyn. But I can’t lie, the boobs are pretty dope.
Allaria regarded her mother with quiet reserve. If she was intimidated, her delicate visage did not reveal it. “I am rather lacking in confidence, mother. But I cannot lie, I feel as though the Goddess’s Blessing will support me.”
Dude. These aren't boobs. They’re, like, weird flesh balloons. Boobs are all droopy and heavy and shitty, not… God, I can’t even describe these things seriously.
Seraphina nodded, apparently satisfied with her daughter’s answer. Humility was a boon, and she seemed capable enough to at least hold a conversation. “Faith in the goddess is a recourse, daughter, but not a tool. Do try staying more grounded in our own reality.”
Shhhh. Karyn. Friend’o’mine. Let me have this. Please.
“I am well aware the dangers of being overzealous—” in a swift motion, the princess poured herself a cup of earlmoon tea, every bit as graceful and feminine as her mother—“but I find that faith in the Goddess is exactly what I need to stay focused, especially in circumstances as taxing as the summit’s.”
That’s stupid. You’re being stupid. And horny. You’re being horny and stupid, Jon.
“Such is the ignorance of the youth, it would seem…” The queen paused, as if contemplating something.
Well, in reality, it was Karyn contemplating something; she had come to a rather harsh realization that shook her to her very core. Despite having been the queen of Tyr for a little over than half a day, not once has she felt the need to do what one would likely do in such a long time; eating, using the bathroom, things of that order. Karyn wanted to ask Jon about this strange observation, when suddenly…
A creak at the door. Someone was listening in, but who?
