Mother

Opening the heavy stained oak door, I see Roysia, my mother, standing there in the hallway with a servant behind her, who is holding a blazing torch.

My mother is a beautiful woman, even for her age. Father always liked the younger women, and mother was no exception. She's 46 years of age, and the years have been extremely kind to her. She's got long, wavy, blonde hair that rests on her shoulders, her head topped with an elegant tiara of silver and rubies. She's wearing a flowing white dress, complimented with blue trim and my family's crest where the v-shaped neck comes to a lower point. She's staring at me with a stern look, ready to speak as soon as the door has opened.

"Aerin, I'll assume you've heard the grave news?" she asks, and I reply with a slight nod. "Raimund will not be long, and the fate of the kingdom rests in your hands. I do not trust anyone else to rule, other than your father, myself, or you. I love all my children, but they were not raised as little kings nor queens. I've asked everyone of importance to gather in the main hall in an hour to discuss these next few weeks, you'll need to head there shortly."

Without giving me a chance to respond, she turns away, her long dress flipping and flowing in tow, and the two head down the hall, leaving me with no time for questions or concerns.