Perhaps she should have been more aware of the guests creeping into her home, but there had been so many recently. Queens, citizens and strange women alike, she was inundated with visitors within the walls. The mere presence of them, the strange feet on her marble floors, the whispers of their words and the unfamiliar scents, slithered like a creeping, hissing snake up her spine, settling heavily on her shoulders with the heavy weight of her thick, shiny coils of braids. The shadows of her magic were rattled, mouths open and fangs bared. What she sunk their poisonous teeth into entirely depended on what tipped the careful balance of her learned diplomacy. Regardless of her unrest, she should have known of the presence of another monarch within her walls. She should not have heard the rumours chirped in her ear by a meek little maid spinning tales of a King as black as the Alcazar’s walls confronting her golden pet.

So she went, all chiming gold and feminine curves, to where the two were situated.

They were gold and charcoal colliding like sunlight burning against the blackened landscape of a fire ravaged land. Her sweet pet, the apparent Monarch she watched with careful eyes, spoke with confidence and strength, denying every question of the larger, battle-worn man opposing him. Darkened ears flicked forward, coins jingling softly against her cheeks like the soft, melodic laughter ringing in her mind. Gwenael may be merely her well-groomed and managed puppet, but he was entirely capable of functioning on his own. His intense stare, accompanied by the bite in his words, would have brought a giggle to her if she was not faced with the fiery monarch.

”Indeed, there is only one Monarch here, and you are looking at them. Have you been playing nicely with my Monarch, darling Narcissus? I do hope he has’t caused you any…distress. Gwenael does have quite a bite when he wants to.” Instead of the amused giggle bubbling in her chest, she laughed almost dismissively at the King of Fire. She had heard whispers of him. Royalty once before, he had been reinstated upon the burning throne. But upon a closer inspection she found him to be not nearly as impressive as the legends portrayed him. How was it that men were always so disappointing? She tilted her head, soft chimes filling the air as she considered him, icy gold eyes burning over the dark, scarred texture of his muscular body.

With a soft huff, she spoke once again. ”Do you have any other business than, as it was so well put, a pissing contest? If so, perhaps you would like to come in and leave that atrocious attitude at the door, darling. We won’t have that kind of disrespect in Purgatory, will we, pet?”