What does she do for fun?

Duncan thinks for a moment before responding, “What do you do for fun?” It wasn’t the first question that came to mind. The first being, “Why the large stick up your ass?” The second being about her curse. He picked this one because it was the least likely to get him killed.

“Fun?” Xira replied with a light chuckle, “I haven’t had much use for fun as of late.”

“Really?” he asked her, “Because it looks like you could use it.” The prince flinched when he realized what he just said sounded like an insult. It was meant to be an honest observation, his siblings were tormenting her just a few moments ago, and it looked like the local nobles weren’t too kind to her ether. Thankfully, she didn’t take it as an insult. Instead, she just looked down sadly at her wine glass. At first Duncan was going to ask her if he said something wrong, but then he noticed the crown on her young brow. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, “What was she like?”

Xira’s eyes started to water, and she hugged her arms around her body, “She…She was very kind and gentle. I know that’s not the first words anyone would use to describe my mother. If anything, they would say that she was terrifying and beautiful. She was that, but…When my sister and I would get into a fight, she would first pull us apart and try to find out why we were fighting so she could resolve it. Most parents would just ground both of them or side with their favorite, but not Mother. She always negotiated first.” Xira then let out a light chuckle, “And drew her sword second.”

Duncan reached into his pocket and pulled out a cloth and handed it to the Queen so she could dry her eyes. She smiled up at him as she took the fabric and started brushing the tears away from her cheeks. “Thanks,” said Xira softly, “I’ve never really talked to anyone about my mother since she died.”

“Did your sisters give you time to mourn?” asked Duncan.

“A few months,” said Xira as her temper started to rise again, “Mourning isn’t the problem. The problem is that I’m stuck here playing politics while the Nordic tribe that killed my mother is still alive! I should be taking a fleet to their lands, burning every stronghold until I find their fucking chieftain and take his head!”

At the risk of having his jaw broken by the strong, fuming woman, Duncan set his glass down and placed both hands on her shoulders so he could look her in the eye. “Negotiate first and draw your sword second, remember,” he told her, “You need to prove to your people and the people of the mainland that you can rule effectively and that you’re not just another Amazon raider. Then you can gather the allies you made and lead them to battle against the Nordics.”

Xira started at him for a long moment. By the look in her eyes, it looked like she was about to snap at him or snap him in half, but instead, a smile spread across her lips, and she started snickering. “What’s so funny?” he asked her with a nervous chuckle.

“Sorry,” said Xira as her smile grew wider, “It’s just that the excuse my advisers used that that I should focus on securing an heir to the throne before going into battle. The man is telling me that I should prepare first before going into battle while the women are telling me that I should focus on getting laid.”

Duncan thought for a moment then started snickering along with her. As they began to laugh, Xira hugged him and buried her face into his strong chest. Duncan hugged her back, and they stayed like this for what felt like hours. Once they finally regained control of themselves, Xira lightly pushed herself back and looked up into Duncan’s eyes, smiling. Duncan blushed and smiled back at her before lightly raking his hand over the side of her cheek, to bush some of the hair out of her eyes. “You have a gorgeous smile, Queen Xira.”

Xira blushed from his words, then smirked and rolled her eyes. “Somehow, I knew you could here to court me. But, unlike your brother, I think I like you, so I’ll let you continue.” As she said this, she gave him a warm lidded smile and pressed her body close to his chest, “May I have the name of the Prince that wishes to court me?”

Duncan’s eyes lit up as his perseverance filly pulled off, and now, he had some salt to pour into his brother’s bruised ego. “Prince Duncan, your highness.”

“Call me Xira,” she said with a soft purr in her voice.