It was intolerable.
One day she had been Berenice Irvine, first minister of Scotland. Answerable to the people of Scotland, and shackled by Westminster. Now she was Queen of the Kingdom of Tares and answerable to nobody.
She couldn’t abide it.
Democracy was her one true church. But here on Lusfell it lay empty and abandoned. Disused. Instead she was in a world structured after feudalism, with an idiot aristocracy to appease. Adding insult to injury these aristocrats weren’t even the inheriting idiots any more but random people who had just lucked into titles and position on this new world. Just like her.
The really irritating thing was how everyone seemed to defer to the title, like it was some biological instinct. Or the divine right of monarchy writ large into everyone’s minds. Given that gods were real in this world she feared it was the latter.
The words that appeared in the bottom left corner of her vision called it: [Royal [Aura]]. Said it was active as long as she held the throne or crown. How to implement democracy in this new world? Were she just to abdicate then someone else, someone probably less trustworthy, would just replace her. Already, within a day’s journey of the capital, there were bandits and warlords beginning to appear. She imagined similar was happening all across the continent. It was human nature. No, not human; psychopathic. People, as a rule, were kind and considerate. Selfish and stupid, yes. But also empathic and compassionate. It was the tiny minority of utter fuck wits that were the real problem. They barely counted as human at all.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
There was one benefit though; Scotland, much as it now was, was finally independent. Looking at the map in the throne room of her palace she couldn’t even begin to guess where on Lusfell she could now find the people of London. Let alone Westminster. Now she just needed to make this Tares, the new Scotland, a republic. The first step would be, she supposed, to bring the new idiots of the aristocracy on side. Maybe she could find some allies from among their number. Certainly she could identify the trouble makers. Even now, as she paced the balcony around her solar, unable to sleep while her wife now royal consort dozed within, couriers were riding out to each of the counties with invitations to the rulers of each to come to her. Not to pledge fealty to her, but to plan the dissolution of the monarchy and the establishment of a democratic republic.
Looking out to the north where the few lights of the capital city, Seamerston, strained to blot out the alien constellations above she heard herself sigh with melancholy. This world was so primitive. She missed coffee, television and the Internet. Despite now being a literal ice queen she missed her old body. Not that she hated what she had now, the magic was certainly an unexpected bonus, and Lauraine certainly liked both their new bodies. But she wanted the familiarity and comfort of the old.
She didn’t want to be queen.
“Let it go,” she sung to herself as she circled the balcony, putting her back to the city and ocean, to face the sea of trees that seemed to make up the majority of her domain.
The seemingly endless forest was dark. She meditated upon it as dawn’s light began to creep in from the east.
On the woodland’s edge a figure moved. It’s coat mirrored the sun’s light. Bloody crimson. Then golden yellow. Finally blinding white. Its mane streaming in the breeze. Its horn seemingly held the sunlight to be lit from within. It reared up, seemingly in salute to her, before vanishing back into the tree line.
It was the first time she’d seen a unicorn.