Duskfire Glacier queen's court

@La Reine

obsidian fur traipsed lightly over ice and snow; long, slender legs at a leisurely trot. the world provided for him, as it normally did. his belly was full, even if he was a shadow of a smaller wolf in golden sun's first yawning breaths.
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he found himself a rock to take nap on. he stretched upon it, cracking his back and sighing with relief. perfect, honestly. head resting on both forelegs, he rested.

la reine, as any proper royalty, kept a selection of sunrooms, perfumed by budding winter plants, her firm divans always warm. she visited one after the other, day after another, in such a way motivating herself by promise of pleasure - else she'd've given in to reticency, leaving her lands undefended.

the image of a stranger - un loup - occupying her chosen divan for the day, twisted her serene, divine expression into an unsightly frown.

with firmness to her steps, the mademoiselle marched up to the base of her fine seating, yowl rising as she neared.

toi! brut! she shouted from below, lashing the air. what givez you right?!

her intent wasn't yet to resort to violence, and she intended to convey displeasure, rather than a ruffian's aggression.

A sleek muzzle parted into a yawn, back cracking with the effort of stretching. T'was fine napping spot on such a good day, no? Sun warms rock, warm all of that who nap upon it. Keep the pelts of your banquet upon it and it will be ever the better for it. 

Intense yellow eyes met the cougar. 

Are you queen of this land, m'lady?

oh how it delighted her ears to hear proper speech, and not the usual oafish growling their kind so oft greeted her with!

but- she wouldn't yet show it! the loup spoke fine, and his immediate recognition of her status pleased her to a purr, yes, yet he were still an invader, and she'd need establish herself.

oui! the queen affirmed, head proudly lifted. je suis la reine madeline maryse simone du Feumont.

in lieu of flipping her locks, she flicked her whip.

et toi? non- firzt, descend. let me zake a gued look at you, noble.

Right, yes — this is a queen's rock. he gave another stretch and descended, hopping off and landing with grace. 

He bent into a bow, one paw tucked under his chest. Madame, I am Imeut, noble of foreign lands and heir to the throne of Vishka-Rhektr, a kingdom far from this land. I was not aware of your claim to this land and for that, I deeply apologize.

first she noted his fine movements - nowhere near her people's, of course, but mimicry was a form of flattery, oui.

and his bow! what a polite little brute. her attentions swept forward as he gave a proper introduction.

oh? queenly hand rose to her countenance, obscuring the bottom of it like a spread fan. behind it, her eyes gleamed.



i haf only made assoomption, but toi is truly noble, mm?

her sight rowed his lesser form, black with a raven's sheen. taller than she, oui, but the mountain mademoiselle had more to her build.

yeur apologee iz azzepted, monsieur imeut. mm, what bringz yeu so far from 'ome et kingdom?

you could say that the sand never really suited me, he chuckled. but in all honesty, it is a rite of passage among my people. we must venture on our own when we reach majority. how else may any good heir understand what his people need? but in truth, imeut was a wanderer. named after a divine undertaker but failing to uphold the meaning of it; he needed naught to learn to bury when he could do just fine without. 

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in truth, it mattered little. he had better things to do than to worry about said matters.

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i assume your rule is uncontested, your majesty?

oui, i am with no match. with glittering confidence she swept a hand along the side of her face, flowing into a fanciful gesture at the peak to the east . zhat in zhe distanze ies Villegel, ma zummer palais.

then to the ridge; over zhere, zhe Jardins de Janus - fantastique view!

and finally to the edifice rising before them; et zhis ies Feumont, ma glorious birthright, which ies ma zhrone-palais.

her smile was radiant with pride, her eyes alit when she turned them to the foreign royal.

prince imeut, would yeu walk with moi? i wish zo 'ear more of yeur people, yeur traditeeons.

truly, a breathtaking palace for such a noble queen. imeut remarked as she introduced her lands with such pride, such fantastic mannerisms. he knew quite well the cougar could strike him down with a single blow if but she only felt as if he did not appreciate her gloriousness. in fact, he'd felt it before; what more king - or queen- ly than that? they were kindred spirits in his eyes.

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he took her invitation, willing to walk wherever it may lead. after all... he was foreign, and he did not want to spark anger in her by declining. entertain her, he would with tales of his homeland. the land of vishka-rektr is large enough that it takes multiple days to get to the edges in every direction. patrols are permanently nomadic just to mark it, claimed as subordinate packs within the greater kingdom. the scale not unlike your own, surely. he jested, before continuing. we have many rites. the first is performed the first rainfall after our birth; a batch of mud made with rainwater is prepared for our mother, and our father is given a batch of his finest kill's blood- together they dip paw into each respective vessel, and draw markings along the litter. these mark us to our ancestors as vishkain, and will allow our spirits to find each other when we return to the earth. 

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imeut had more, of course. but he suspected la reine may question, as cougar custom surely differed from his own.

they walked a winding trail up the mountain. the queen were most delighted by prince imuet's demeanor, his speech and his tale, chuckling and making small gasps of awe where appropriate.

ma, what curi-ous cust-oms! zo all loups-- yeur pee-ple, practize zhem? her smile was as near girlish shyness as it could be. i admit, i am not so learned. there are very few in zhis land, and zhey are bruteesh!

her tail gestured past the mountain, over the icefield, to the fire-marred rise nearer the sea, her expression briefly conveying distaste.

he sighed, a small one. the ones in my kingdom would follow our rites; it's tradition - but not all wolves fall under the same pack. different kingdoms hold different customs. and he'd miss it, surely, the days where he were living within luxury; here he were forced to survive. and that was as horrid as getting mud on his paws. ew.
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to her next statement, he looked surprised. others here are brutish? this boded poorly for one lone wolf; meaning the prince needed to be careful. though surely, upon hearing of his princliness, they would be more forgiving! grateful to walk in his presence, even.

most! zhey care leetle for royaltee, zhey respect onlee tooth-- luckilee, i bring claw. with a smirk, the queen unsheathed four of her ivory daggers, running one along the length of a whisker.

yeu will find onlee paysans out zhere, the pair had followed a pebbled path up to a cliff-face, where was a black gap in the mountain's rock. 

'ere, yeu 'ave choice.

pausing at the cavern's threshold - brilliant emeralds gleaning in the dark - the reine flicked for the prince to follow, before vanishing inside.

most knew the art of war. imeut had quickly learned that a wolf's skillset is best used in battle or the hunt; tooth was a weapon as much as la reine's claws were. obsidian prince gathered many bits of information. cougar queen existed, and she staked claim to this part of the land. she defended it fiercely. trust in her, the only other royal he'd come across, was crucial if he wanted to walk through her halls as honored guest instead of the brute she'd originally assumed. 
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obsidian prince followed. warrior-queen vanished within a gap between rocks, and likewise, his black pelt melted into its shadow.

her halls were, as ever, magnifique.

gaps in stone let stakes of sunlight through, embedding into opposing walls. yet, with each step the light receded, and the gurgle of running water grew louder, until the stream could be seen, silver and glittering as it fell into deeper darkness.

one step over it, and up ahead only the natural vision of such noble beasts could help one follow the narrowing path, pick the right doorway, until, yet again, the sound of a rushing stream led down, down, until the Feumont's squeezing throat loosened to let them pass into a grand chamber.

this was were where the queen took her dinner, a room with a sloping, decorated ceiling, water flowing out of one wall and diagonally to the far corner, where it disappeared again. a great entryway, accessed over three natural steps, led into a brighter room, which shared its light with this one. at the point where stalactites reached nearest the floor, connecting with their stalagmite kin, a small alcove had formed, which was now piled with clean bones, carefully removed skins, preserved antlers.

in the middle of the room, occupying a single large stone briefly parting the stream in two, was laid what remained of a renarde.

iet ies fresh. purred the queen, gracefully walking to present the meal to her guest. or, as ief. zhis air cools blood, preserves meeat.

she smiled. in the near-dark, her eyes were green stars.

Truly, a magnificent palace! obsidian prince smiled, though between the dark and his pelt, it melted into the shadows. 

the cougar was a collector, for sure; an impressive huntress that rivalled wolfpack in strength. la reine was not a cat to be messed with, not at all.

he sat and dipped his head to her. thank you greatly for this meal.

it was uncommon that wolf ate other predators, and imeut held respect for foxes. they were rare in his homeland, a symbol of adaptation and cunning among his people. 

but perhaps the culture of cat was not his own, and he could perhaps try everything once, at least.

you should eat it.