Patricia rested the tip of her sword down on the ground, resting her armored form against the hilt. Clear green eyes reflected soft lights of the mid afternoon sun, and her locks of red hair strove to break free from her ponytail, the wind lightly pushing it in the direction that she was staring.
Another rider rode up next to her standing form, a calm and serious man with blue eyes that bespoke gentleness and sincerity. Wearing the aegis of Sylvia and holding himself stoically he looked down at the form that stood on the precipice of fate.
"You're not having second thoughts now.. are you, Your Majesty?" His voice was not the voice of a fighter, but of someone entirely too accustomed to peace.
"Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to.. live normally. Am I to be faulted for that, Cedric?" Patricia's voice was solemn, and her stance mirrored that bout of inner reflection.
Very lightly, the man named Cedric raised the fist holding the rein to his mouth and coughed slightly. With his slight shoulder shake, his waves of cotton candy coloured hair shook, at least the parts that were not busy being directed to and fro by the wind's caress.
"No. I do not think so. After all, we only want sometimes what we cannot have. It is human nature and you while Queen are no less the human for such desires."
"Ah Cedric, always saying such things to placate me. You really are a treasure, you know?" Patricia glanced over her shoulder at the man sitting astride the black stallion and then she picked her sword up and then hilted it with one fluid motion. "I suppose we'd better get back. Magus will worry himself sick if I do not return by dinner."
"That is because Magus is the Palace mother.. a secondary calling if you will." Cedric then grasped the reins and gave them a soft tug, in the process turning the horse so that it faced away from the queen.
"He -is- rather bad at that.." Patricia said as she made quick work of mounting her own horse and spurred the horse on to set the lead on the trail back, flashing a smile. For a moment the seriousness of the situation, of the rule did not plauge her and it would not plauge her until she was in her room alone, surrounded by nothing but her own presence.
Heavy was the head that wears the crown.
