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Daisy makes the biggest decision of her life.

For you to say I could convince them otherwise-"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Talos growled. "Fuck, that's why we don't let peasants choose their own kings, Faranya. They don't know what they want. They need someone to guide them onto the right path and save them from themselves. There won't be a Tor Remilla otherwise."

Faranya rolled onto her back, pouting. "You just do not understand our ways, Talos."

"I understand them well enough to know you're wrong. And if you do nothing, the guilt of those thousand thousand lost souls will be on your hands. And, trust me on this, that will ruin you."

"I am already ruined," she quavered, holding back her tears. "I, a granddaughter of the High King of all Elvendom, am considering advice from a human."

Talos looked on her for another second before rolling onto his back, grinning.

"Yeah, that's actually pretty funny," he chortled. "The world works in mysterious ways, huh?" Faranya gave him an exasperated sigh, and the two of them only stared up at the leaves for a while.

"How do I do it, Talos? How do I get them to follow me?" she softly asked just two minutes later.

"Love," he answered. "Of the true kind on their part. Yours can be faked, so long as it's convincing."

"Confessing now, are we?" the elf teased through her sniffling.

"Nah. But when I ran my mercenary company, I had to pretend I cared about the common man. Now, men are easy, and those who joined up were simple to understand. I purchased them whores, I ensured their pay was generous, and I kept to the road as often as I could. Lust, greed, adventure; all a mercenary desires in the end."

"I fail to see the comparison," Faranya softly replied, surreptitiously sliding a hand towards Talos to stroke his long, wavy locks.

"What I'm getting at is that you have to give them what they want, Faranya. And if what they want is total war, then you need to change their desire. My advice? Give them spectacle instead. A caravan of rainbow pavilions, an endless flight of doves, nights of poetry, song, dance, every splendor you can imagine. Beauty. Be so beautiful that they daren't turn elsewhere. Casiama has the right idea I think, although she did it accidentally. But you, Faranya, can do it one better."

"How is that?"

"You're intelligent. You're calm. You're logical. And, don't tell Cass this, but you're naturally more regal than her. Just think through your actions on the day-to-day, and you'll do fine. Be visible, but unobtainable. Magnificent, but relatable."

"Hmm... I like it, Talos. I will let all my subjects ogle my breasts, but none may touch them," Faranya jested.

Talos chuckled. "Hells, just limit yourself to donning only jewelry."

"Now now, I think a High Queen would require some level of modesty."

"Says the elf who wore nothing but panties when I first met her."

"Says the man who was hard as stone when he gazed upon me."

"Pretty sure that was morning wood."

"And I'm pretty sure 'morning wood' wanes when one's in danger," Faranya retorted. Talos' cock was now straining against his pants, so he decided it best to end their exchange here.

"Yeah, well... I don't like where this is going, Faranya," Talos groaned as he lifted himself to his feet. "Let's stick a fork in this conversation, yeah?"

Faranya gave him a quizzical look. Talos rolled his eyes as he helped her up.

"Gods. You elves made such a practical language, then you never had any fun with it," he smirked.

"And you humans defiled it with forks, goose chases, and broken legs," Faranya sneered in jest. "Walk me home, Talos. It is the least you can do in recompense."

Talos bent over to retrieve his cloak from the grass, then casually arched his elbow for the princess. Faranya daintily slipped her hand onto his bicep, and couldn't help but giggle when she saw that childish grin on his face.

"Just think it over, okay?" Talos chuckled.

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