A young girl dressed entirely in black, save the faint thin golden line of cold hard metal inlaid with a fairly humble assortment of gems on her head, jumped joyously through the halls. Beneath the thin black veil, she wore was an expressionless face skillfully tilted in a way the untrained eye might mistake for a smile. In spite of the heels on her feet and the height of her leaps, her gait was silent.

A bluebird, about as tall if not taller than her head, sat perched on her shoulder unperturbed by her frantic motions. occasionally she'd stop with a think clicking of her shoes and begin whispering to the bird. Mimicking her the bird also leaned into her ear and spoke to her as well.

Though her face didn't express it she swayed her arms and looked in another direction as though she were trying to imitate a bashful girl happy to have someone to share her feelings with. As she soundlessly bounded down the halls she heard an audible yelp from behind her as well as the clattering of tea cups on the hard stone floors.

"Young lady don't scare me like that."

"Like what?"

The girl giggled to herself and the bird cawed along with her.

"Nevermind, your mother wants to see you."

The maid waved off her question and cleared her throat after the first word She'd spoken. Drika spared a glance at the bird, its neck was wiggling from side to side. If she were capable of making an expression it would be a smile right now. She covered her mouth and imitated the sound of laughter nodding to the maid once in a form of silent understanding she continued down the way to the throne room her mother had decided to hole herself up in.

Opening the large 20-foot tall 2-foot thick double doors with one palm slowly the sounds from the other side of the door began to leak through the crack until she could hear her mother screaming clearly.

"...Where is he? Where is that coward of a husband? How dare he pull a prank like this?"

"You wanted to see me, mother?"

The acting queen frantically ranted about the throne shouting her head off with an upward stare. following her gaze Drika saw the rusty broadsword hung with aged frayed rope by an unstable knot on the ceiling over the throne, it swayed gently back and forth in the shadow of the chandelier. The rope creaked and the sword seemed to be slipping but never fell; it just continued swinging, uncaring of the ruckus down below.

The bird craned its head down and spoke quietly into her ear. Drika chuckled mockingly. Bente turned over at her swiftly, she moved to take a seat at the throne on instinct but after a moment's hesitation jumped away from the throne and scowled at the ceiling once more.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"Femke-"

"-Drika-"

"Tell your father to cut down this sword, It's impeding my ability to rule with dignity"

The bird whispered into her ear again.

"Have you considered moving the throne?"

The bird cawed in mock laughter.

"If I move the throne he wins."

"If you're scared I'll take the throne."

Bente scoffed breathlessly as if she were trying to fake a laugh as unconvincingly as possible.

"In order to even be considered for the throne, you need to prove yourself capable of raising an air by either being married or raising a child. as you've done neither I can hardly just give you the throne."

"Are you suggesting you're so incapable of raising an heir, that your own is unsuitable for the throne you're too scared to sit in?"

She dropped her chin while looking her straight in the eyes giving her emotionless face the illusion of a smile. Bente clenched her fists and began speaking through gritted teeth her resolve made, she turned her back to the throne and with a moment of hesitation threw herself back to sit in it.

"I-I am not-"

The somewhat audible creaking of the old rope caught her off guard and she jumped off the throne and onto the floor landing face first on the velvet carpet and catching herself before the steps leading up to the throne. When she looked back up a part of the blade that hadn't quite caught the light from the window behind the throne reflected a single thin ray across her face. Drika covered her mouth beneath her veil and stifled a laugh. The bird however laughed loudly

"Hanz you were in that bird this whole time?!"

"Why would I pass up an opportunity to spend time with my adorable little murder machine?"

The bird rubbed its head against Drika's cheek as it spoke and she leaned into it. Drika began walking up to the throne, stepping over her prone mother and took her seat on the throne, the rope continued to creak at regular intervals but Drika didn't seem too bothered by it. she even produced a book from her bag and began reading while Bente scowled up at her.

"Why did you hang that sword so precariously Hanz? Do you not care if someone uses it to assassinate the king or queen to take the throne?"

As she spoke Drika looked over her book yet still down her nose at her mother. Her eyes were unwavering and uncaring. The bird reached a talon into an opening in Drika's dress and produced the peace treaty he'd been sent to retrieve before throwing it down on the floor for it to unfurl with both signatures written at the bottom of the alcohol-stained treaty right under her nose.

"Bente my name's not Hanz anymore, Drika's name was never whatever you said, and the only thing that matters when becoming a ruler is having the courage to invite people to come after your head, because ultimately they were going to do it anyway, and I'll have no cowards sitting on my throne."