The wyvern or the lion?
Which was he? More importantly, which was he to her?
One was worrying, the other unsettling.
The answer was obvious, if you ask the right question. But was he asking the right question?
There was only one way to find out. To ask and see what answer comes from it.
At best, a scathing retort; at worst, he was wrong about the answer and things were much more unsettling.
Still, what is Dawn if not a nation that charges through difficult situations?
The question is asked. The smile is knowing. Ah, this may be much worse than was supposed…
Image is the coat of arms of Sophie, Countess of Wessex