Qeya River star

he had been prepared to fight. to raise his voice, argue, bellow with passion. but that did not come. he did not see in this woman the vicious queen that others often spoke of, whispered of when devoutees did not look.

but it does not stop the blood from pumping. from boiling hot, as he slightly turns, guard hairs raising upwards in vicious pull. from your court. he cannot stop the poison from flooding his tone, but teeth do not bare; he only fixes a red, scarred eye upon her snow-fleece back.

ears pull backwards atop his crown. when the vultures feasting at your throne came down upon me. upon the spire. there is visible hurt upon his face, as nose snarls up, reliving the memories. they saw me displaced. forced me from my home with the threat of war.

he turns fully now. you did nothing. why? you were my queen.