<em><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;">Servallatrix; The Courtyard</span></span></em><br/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;">Servallatrix smiled knowingly and petted his hair in a familiar way. "Sharing the weight of your troubles with a friend lessens their heft on your shoulders." He knew she never minded being his sounding board. They had discussed everything from political policy to what happens after a cat dies, always in the privacy of their own company. She listened to him now, nodding her understanding. Her long, white braid slithered against the satin blanket with her movement. <br/><br/>"Leona takes after her mother." She suggested softly. It was a single sentence but it carried so much unspoken meaning. The queen had ruled alongside him, but they both knew who was dominant. The queen had been revered and loved and the responsibility that had fallen on his shoulders since her death had been immense. If Leona were like her mother, then she would prove to be a worthy ruler indeed. <br/><br/>She smiled again when he asked her to sing, and she did. A wartime song about the valor of Thunderan soldiers and the sacrifices they made in battles long past...<br/></span>