[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

Beruthiel held her head high as she walked down the stairs, accompanied by Lady Morwen. She looked her best and she knew it, the thought bolstered her as she headed to the arranged meeting place with the King; the silver of her gown set off the black of her hair and eyes and her still red lips. The black velvet cord at her throat had been shortened tonight, so that the silver cat's eye pendant hung above the neckline of the gown and flashed in the light of the candles. Yes, she looked well.

Morwen walked just a step behind the queen, and out of her line of sight. The usual sour expression on her face had been replaced with a lighter look, one of mingled anticipation and boredom. Her garments had also been carefully selected for the occasion, the dark blue gown intended to fade into the background while Beruthiel shone out, the curse of her position.

They approached the door to Tarannon's apartments, where one of the King's aides was standing waiting for them. Beruthiel recognized him as Andrus, one of her husband's more trusted advisors. Dressed in the full livery of the White Tree, he was an imposing figure. Making a short bow, he slipped inside the door and returned with the King. He too was dressed formally, his high leather boots polished to a shine, and the cape around his shoulders pinned with a silver star. If she disregarded the few silver threads at his temples he looked almost like the young prince who had travelled to Umbar and returned with a Haradrim bride... Beruthiel's lips curved slightly at that memory, but the harshness of her present crowded in on her, twisting her soft smile into a sneer.

"My Lady." The King bowed low before her, and then offered an arm. She inclined her head as was expected before taking his arm, and together they walked toward the dining room. Morwen and Andrus followed behind them, their voices low as they talked together.

The guard outside the dining hall threw the doors open as they approached, and announced loudly "His Majesty Tarannon Falastur, Lord of Gondor, and his Lady, Queen Beruthiel!" Everyone in the room rose, Tarannon's brother Tarciryan and his wife from their seats at the table, and Earnil, the prince, from the floor beside his puppy. The boy had apparently been lecturing the dog. Beruthiel's stomach twisted inside her. How utterly precious the child was, and how she hated the sight of him, with his inquisitive eyes so like his Uncle's.

Tearing her eyes away from his face she extended a hand to Tarciryan and one to Miriel. "So lovely to see you both again." She said, in a voice that implied otherwise. "And your son, how much he has grown." She didn't look at the boy as she spoke, instead fixing her eyes somewhere above him on the mantel. Two emerald eyes peered back at her from the shadow of a large vase, and the tip of a black nose. Her cats, her guardian angels... of course they were here. The queen smiled to herself as she took her seat at the foot of the table.

Casting a warning glance at Huan, she spoke to Earnil, in a voice dripping with honey. "What a fine hound you have, young sir. Of course, you won't object to leaving him outside if he causes trouble..."

"No ma'am," the boy replied earnestly. "He's a good dog." Tarciryan smiled indulgently, and Tarannon's expression was much the same. Beruthiel's smile widened as Shumita set the first course on the table and retreated respectfully to the door.

"Of course he is," she conceded, lifting her fork delicately. "Just see that he doesn't cause trouble."