The mother standing before her was a failure, unwilling or unable, it didn't matter, to protect her own child. Lips curled back in distaste even as the tiny bitch turned to face her, as though she even stood a chance. Hackles bristled down her back, the thought of stealing this bitch for herself overwhelming. The pale man at her side would speak, questioning her sons authority and ability. A humorless chuckle would slip from inky lips. If only he knew.... She would meet her sons gaze over the little family, a shrug lifting broad shoulders. He would turn to the fight man, subtly giving her leeway to do what she wanted. But it was the tiny child that caught her attention. He would speak directly to her, clearly upset, but for all the wrong reasons. She would smirk, peering down at him curiously.
"You are always welcome to come with me." She would purr, her crown lowering below her shoulders to better look at the child. He was a spitfire, and perhaps he could be molded into a great warrior, with the proper training. "I could teach you great things." She would murmur, eyes dancing. "And you can get away from your parents." Hopefully it would be enough to lure the boy in, to convince him to come away with her. Her gaze never left his chocolate face, completely ignoring his trembling mother. If the woman wanted to fight for her son, then the queen would happily give her a fight for the boy. But she suspected that no fight would ever come.
