Queenship has not shaped up to be all Fríða had imagined. She thought by now she'd be thriving, a horde of pretty men at her heels waiting to serve her every whim. Yet Paradise remains woefully empty. How the hell did father make it look so easy?

'Well, it probably helps that he doesn't keep himself confined to the Prairie,' a bitter voice pipes up in the back of her mind. And it's true. Fríða hasn't even bothered to visit the Commons, and the few times she has stolen away to try her lick on the battlefield have seen her returning aching and empty-handed. If she trusted that Paradise would be safe, she might feel comfortable leaving for longer than a few hours at a time. But she refuses. She just knows the minute she turns her back for too long Ender will use it as his chance to seize her spot for himself, making all the time and patience she poured into obtaining Paradise worthless.

She doesn't want to say she's paranoid but she's definitely been patrolling more often than she really needs to. If she happens to be stalking Ender from place to place while she does it, well... no she isn't.

Ender is nowhere to be seen on today's patrol, which makes Fríða both highly suspicious and extremely relieved. As she follows a winding trail north and approaches the shore, she spots a lingering figure through the verdant underbrush. Fríða slows as the trail curves towards the beach and opens up to an expanse of cloud-white sand, and there in full view is a woman, her steel-and-snow coat speckled in sunlight as it shines through the edge of the canopy above them. Fríða is relieved that it's not Ender or any of her innumerable siblings, having been in no mood lately to deal with any of them. But seeing a fresh face, one she has no ties to, puts a strange spring in her step. She lets out a soft nicker as she draws nearer, the iciness in her gaze melting away ever so slightly.

"Hi there," she greets affably. The cheeriness in her own voice sounds odd in her ears - she's become used to speaking in bitter tones as she battled viciously with Ender over who was the rightful leader of Paradise. So far she seemed to be winning, but constantly having her guard up was becoming exhausting. In a way it felt good to know she hadn't become completely jaded and lost all sense of propriety.

Fríða reaches out to offer an amiable exchange of breath should the mare so desire, azure eyes glittering in the speckled sunlight. "I'm Fríða, the new queen of Paradise." Some people might tell you otherwise, she almost adds, but swallows back the words last-second. "I haven't seen you around before... what brings you to my home?" she tries not to let suspicion creep in as she glances the woman over. She had scoured every inch of this territory and seen no traces of anyone but Ender, yet with how deep and dark the jungle can be Fríða would not find it surprising if this woman had managed to elude her.