#2ndqueen

          ‘ it’s so warm here, your highness. ‘ of course, the weather was sunny and bright in a way that nohr never was, even when she was permitted on rare occasions to go outside. but the warmth she was referring to was that she got from the queen-- her mother, though it felt too early to call her that-- and the other royals was something she relished in even more. it was hard not to wonder how different things would be if she got to be raised there.

                                30 random lyric starters / accepting

          “ I... guess I do, huh? “ Things change. People change. Mikoto remembered when you were a child - too scared of the world to even come out from behind her. She’d remember you when you finally came home, confused by the home around you. The words you spoke with her dying breath, and the anger you felt towards the world around you. ( she’s seen you through a lot, now that you think about it. )

          Mikoto’s seen you grow. And now she’s seeing you - finally making a home out of Valla, with your siblings, your husband, and your daughters. You couldn’t keep eye contact with her.

          ( if anankos were still alive and kept you all around... would he be proud of you? or would sumeragi if garon had never done something so dastardly? you don’t know. something about the love in mikoto’s eyes said she’s holding pride for you from the both of them with her own. it hurt. )

          “ What did you mean by that, mother? “ You had managed to calm yourself down, if only a little. ( perhaps it was regret you felt - or maybe your body was forcing itself to stop. ) A simple comparison was enough to make you stop for but a moment. A simple comparison knocked you down a peg. Who was he that Mikoto mentioned? It couldn’t have been your father, right? Sumeragi wasn’t anything like this - Garon was ( albeit, far worse than this ) but you were still coming to terms with your lineage / it didn’t make sense for you to be like him.

          You watched the older woman wrapping a bandage on your hand ; you can’t quite remember what happened all too well - you felt everything grow hot, and next thing you knew, you were crying to your mother about how your hand hurts. ( her touch was familiar - one you recall only vaguely. you can’t put your finger on it though. though she was your mother, so it made sense you’d recall it. )

       You found yourself blinking almost lazily as your mother pulled you into the hug - you wouldn’t lie and say you were used to this yet. To any parent being affectionate. So you were frozen for but a moment, you were trying to process this. But your arms would quickly snake around your mother, and your hands dug into the fabric of her clothes - particularly at her shoulders.