Maybe she had been naive to think she would be Queen just, well, just because she could be but who could blame her? She had grown up on stories of how her parents had been born to lead and how her grandmother had been born to do so, too. It just made sense to her that, like her mother and grandmother, she too was supposed to be a leader. Maybe she wasn't specialized enough, or calm enough or even big enough but she thought she had to be at least... enough of something to be Queen. Besides, Sinclair always made her feel like she was. Her mother, though... her mother made it painfully obvious that it was not the case. That was her mother's specialty: she had a knack for making you understand your place. Cersei had even seen her mother work such magic on her father, something she had always imagined as an impossible feat.

She hardly had time to react when her mother suddenly changed course, feeling her weight suddenly press into her. In that moment, she felt the firm grasp of teeth over her scruff and then - just like that! - her world was spinning. She landed with a thud, a shocked bark bursting from her as she stared up at her mother in disbelief. It wasn't the action that was the lesson though but rather, the feeling that suddenly crept into her. For a moment, she was almost afraid of her mother, or at least what she imagined to be afraid. In that split moment, she had become suddenly aware of her mother's strength and command over her - she could control her body if she so chose, with teeth like knives and a body made of stone. As she stared up at her mother, she blinked slowly, shaking her head in realization as she took the opportunity to rise to her paws once more.

She was less than dignified looking then, with a twig or two caught in her pelt, dust covering the red of her fur. That didn't matter though, right? Wolves came from battles of dominance covered in blood... what did that matter? It wasn't about appearances, that much she understood.

"See? I want to be strong like that."

She huffed, furrowing her brows as she wriggled her toes in the dirt, trying to feel her muscles beneath her skin. She was tall, tall and narrow with legs just too long. She was as tall as her mother now, and yet, she did not quite measure up to her in muscle mass. No, she was built more like her father... she just had to accept that. With a sharp inhale, she met her mother's gaze with a wave of her tail, her lips pulling back into an apologetic, yet nervous, grin. There were questions she needed answering...

"Sorry, mother... but I just have to know!"

With that, she pounced forward, intending to grab her mother around the neck with her legs as she rose up over her back. Was she strong enough? Was she fast enough? Or did she truly have eons to go before she could hold a candle to her mother?