A Crown (Queen) (Lawful Good)

What to expect: How well can you lead a kingdom based on trade and carnal desire? Group sex, public sex, sex parties

You gravitate towards a crown, held to the wall by a single nail in the wall. It is both strange that such a thing would be in here when nearly everything else is a weapon, and strange that an item of such opulent wealth and display of royalty would be in such a dark and dingy room, and held in place by such a pedestrian means.

You carefully take the crown off with both hands, look over it carefully. This is certainly real, made of pure gold and studded with more jewels than could be counted. You place the crown upon your head, and despite it's heft in your hands, the weight of the crown does not bear down on your shoulders, almost like it isn't there.

You walk back to the mirror with your crown and smile. As if there was any doubt, this was made for you. Of course it belongs to you, who else could wear such a thing?

Marvelling at the crown on your still naked body, through the reflection of the mirror, you see that the metal bars have vanished, and that there is a clear pathway out. As you walk through, you take the crown off so as to not jeopardize it. Through the dark, you begin to recognize the definite smell of salt water in the air. Light comes next, seeing an immaculate blue sky. The tunnel finally gives way to an spectacular view of the ocean and sky from atop a castle.

Your castle. You are the Maiden Queen, or at least will be soon. Your small kingdom of Linthalia has only ever been ruled by women. Your kingdoms wealth and power comes via trade and geography. The nearby kingdoms cannot reach other without passing through your territory, to your great benefit. This open trade and communication has made your kingdom a modern and metropolitan wonder. It has also created an environment where everything is available given the right price.

Your kingdom has resisted being absorbed by the larger kingdoms through careful diplomacy and by following a solemn rule. Each queen will only marry after relinquishing the throne to their eldest daughter. That would be you, Fastira, suited to be crowned Queen today, with your mother set to marry her favorite lover the next day. You are largely eager for today, as it's the realization of what you've been told your entire life so far.

You place your crown on the ledge of the stone wall, as you look over to the kingdom beneath, pondering on how everything before you will now officially be yours by days end. You also sigh contently as the cool ocean breeze blows against your still bare flesh, not the least embarrassed to be found in such a state.

"I really wish you would stop this Princess" You hear from behind you. Geralt, the captain of the guard. The closest you've had to a stable father figure in your life.

"What do you mean captain? Stop carrying my crown everywhere and putting it in precarious places, or putting myself on display like this?" planting your hands on the stone wall, you spread your legs slightly and stick your ass out.

Geralt is completely unphased by your display "The crown, my dear. It's older than you know and older than you have any appreciation for. That, and you've always bounced back from every pounding you've received."

Perhaps he isn't as unphased as his body language implied...