Another day, another meeting, another pointless endeavor for peace. Another day spent wasted, hours and hours going in circles, screaming themselves hoarse. He remembered, wistful, of the days spent on the back of a steed, of the bow straining against his back, of the sweat pouring off his skin as he released the arrow with deadly precision at his target. Days of harsh wind and salt stinging his weathered cheeks, of creaking wood and wild seas. Of building an empire from nothing, with only his own strength and willpower and brains holding him back from utter destruction.
What did these children know- and most of them were, indeed, children, to him- about war? About sacrifice? He was no fool- he knew of their strength and of their will. He knew they were brave . Yet they looked at him as if he were nothing but a nuisance, listening only because of his seniority, because of the ‘Special Relationship’. He scoffed inwardly at the term- right good it did him. The child he allied himself with was far too young, in his eyes. Yet the others seemed to think nothing of it.
Had they forgotten, in light of recent wars? They all seemed to hold him as a tired has-been; an old grandeur that had all but been forgotten. Had they forgotten how his grip had extended over nearly all of them, how the Crown had conquered them? Had they forgotten the extent of his law, of his judgement? How it had left them all trembling at his feet? How even now, his true strength remained- he had not died with his Empire, but remained a true world power. As the other nations quibbled childishly over land and wars, he smirked to himself, leaning back in his seat, lean and strong and calm, a panther watching his prey. He raised a tea cup to his lips, a smirk forming as he took a lazy drink. Had they truly forgotten who they were speaking to?
Come closer, dears.
Let me remind you.

Another day, another meeting, another pointless endeavor for peace. Another day spent wasted, hours and hours going in circles, screaming themselves hoarse. He remembered, wistful, of the days spent on the back of a steed, of the bow straining against his back, of the sweat pouring off his skin as he released the arrow with deadly precision at his target. Days of harsh wind and salt stinging his weathered cheeks, of creaking wood and wild seas. Of building an empire from nothing, with only his own strength and willpower and brains holding him back from utter destruction.

What did these children know- and most of them were, indeed, children, to him- about war? About sacrifice? He was no fool- he knew of their strength and of their will. He knew they were brave . Yet they looked at him as if he were nothing but a nuisance, listening only because of his seniority, because of the ‘Special Relationship’. He scoffed inwardly at the term- right good it did him. The child he allied himself with was far too young, in his eyes. Yet the others seemed to think nothing of it.

Had they forgotten, in light of recent wars? They all seemed to hold him as a tired has-been; an old grandeur that had all but been forgotten. Had they forgotten how his grip had extended over nearly all of them, how the Crown had conquered them? Had they forgotten the extent of his law, of his judgement? How it had left them all trembling at his feet? How even now, his true strength remained- he had not died with his Empire, but remained a true world power. As the other nations quibbled childishly over land and wars, he smirked to himself, leaning back in his seat, lean and strong and calm, a panther watching his prey. He raised a tea cup to his lips, a smirk forming as he took a lazy drink. Had they truly forgotten who they were speaking to?

Come closer, dears.

Let me remind you.

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