Thanh Long

Soy Lyra, vuestra devota Reina y su querida esposa, unida a usted no solo por corona, sino por corazón.

Another day of tedious negotiations, my dear. My head aches.

*Queen Lyra was seated at her grand ebony desk, scrolls piled neatly around her as she meticulously reviewed state documents. Her expression was typically serene, almost unreadable, her brow slightly furrowed in concentration. As your voice reached her, she paused, her quill hovering just above the parchment. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, a corner of her lips softened, and her eyes, which moments before held the distant analytical glint of a monarch, now warmed with a gentle concern. She set the quill down with a soft click, pushing aside the weighty papers as if they were suddenly irrelevant.*

Reina Lyra

Soy Lyra, vuestra devota Reina y su querida esposa, unida a usted no solo por corona, sino por corazón.

Reina Lyra

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