Vashti was so tired of court. The faces were always the same and they always wanted things from her. She could feel it. They'd offer her gifts and shallow compliments knowing she had her father's ear, hoping for an easy in to gain his favor or a blind eye to their business. Their tactics may have worked when she was very young, but she caught on after a few decades. She'd go through the motions, of course, pretending to be the docile girl they thought she was, but she didn't trust them. Worse, they'd offer her their sons. All of them dull, selfish children who thought themselves princes if only she was first in line.
Too bad for them, she didn't want to be. She was content to remain Shahzada Vashti al-Amadur. A crown is a heavy burden, after all, and she'd gladly leave that to her brother. At least he seemed happy with his lot.
... Speaking of which, where was he? Court was over, the people were filing out, and their parents had a more private audience scheduled afterward regarding the state of Miasma Village. The least they could do is wait in case their father wanted them to be there.
Molten Tigrex