Palpable disappointment that I had not elaborated on conversation was apparent from the droop of Aeolus's gait, yet I make no outward indication I noticed or cared. With the winter, a new sound began to fill the air. At first, my mind thought to be playing tricks upon me, hearing the soft twinkling of music radiating from the forest.
I halt as I realize this is not the case.

My ears perch forward grasping for the sound, under the soft lit tones I hear the padding of footsteps on loam - hushed, quiet, aside from the occasional snap of a twig. The approach of someone in this land. Unable to use past experience to determine relative safety, I stand ready for a ghoul or a bunny to reach out from the trees. Muscles ready to run, ready to uncoil, ready for anything . When the lady steps forward from the trees, my posture immediately and visibly eases.

I think her a pretty thing, yet the expression in her face is not one that sings of intrigue in the mind. I could not possibly know how daft she was... just the suspicion that she was a good-natured idiot. Great. More than her beauty, my eyes catch on another unfamiliar shape with wings. Blue, like the purest, deepest summer skies, but a lizard with wings. I wanted to laugh, to break out in maniacal ravings, for not only had I met with a winged horse but a fucking dragon. The Edge, it gave home to several unexpected creatures, played to a happy chirpy tune emanating from a strange looking basket. I resist the laughter, instead portraying a calm face to the world. My dark eyes dangerously cajole.

I allow the boy to speak for me, introducing my name with surprisingly apt grace. Surprising, mainly because moments before he had been curiously sniffing the mare's possessions. With or without wings, children are fickle.

The trigger word of queen rings in my head, and, instinctually, my own head dips in a deep bow, hoof extending forward as my own weight is transferred to my knee. The boy does not move in show of deference, but I can feel the lashes upon my back should I not move. When you are outranked, you are respectful. If you are not, the punishment is great. Apparently, in this world, no such hierarchy matters. Another curious thing, I think, as I rise back to my feet.

"Your majesty," voice warm and welcoming despite the ice growing in my chest and gut. "I would be honored to have shelter within your kingdom."
Manners impeccable, eyes dark and growing darker.