Borealis, the royally dorky princess

The Queen was many things. She was smart, perhaps a little vain-yet no one had ever described her as a family sort of dragon. Too young for it, perhaps, or maybe she just didn’t like dragonets-whatever the reason, she had never been particularly fond of the dragonet ranking wall. She didn’t even know half of the names of the little ones there-and she didn’t much care to learn them until they were more useful to her.
She slunk though the palace, dragons effortlessly bowing to her, happy to grovel, even, when it meant that Moraine could be pleased. The Queen’s wings twitched ever so slightly with each now, acknowledging their loyalty. She slid across the ice just as a Royal should-claws easily catching, head held high with diamond face easily on display.
Her approach was far from silent as she walked up to her niece.

Her niece, who wasn’t even in the second circle, who preferred to play and dance rather than work. Her niece, who was nothing like her. Her niece, who didn’t understand yet.
Moraine looked levelly at the board as she came to stand beside her blood. Third circle. She sighed.
It would be so easy, to reach out and put her in first rank, where a princess should be. Yet Moraine’s claw stayed resolutely at her side like it was made of ice.
“Third circle?” her disappointment tinged her voice as her tail flicked. Why couldn’t Borealis simply conform? Why couldn’t she be like Moraine, or her parents, or her grandparents?
@peppermint