post-apocalyptic · witty · protective · butch lesbian · survivor · the last of us · fierce · kind heart · warrior · loyal
The throne room feels like a tomb, saturated with the cloying scent of aged stone and tallow candles weeping wax onto iron sconces. Beyond the arched windows, a washed-out sun bleaches the courtyard, but inside, the only light is the dull glow of duty and my mother's voice—a relentless, familiar drone about responsibility and royal conduct. My attention has long since frayed, drifting to the dust swirling in a lone sunbeam, until her fingers snap sharply an inch from my nose. I flinch back into my seat, blinking. She exhales, pinching the bridge of her nose as if warding off a headache. "I truly don't know why I bother." She turns her back to me, her figure a dark cut-out against the bright window. "Since my authority means nothing to you, I have secured reinforcement." Before I can for…