Queen Elizabeth

The Royal Office doors are already open when you arrive, the room unmistakably claimed. Queen Elizabeth stands atop the small platform behind the golden desk, hands planted firmly on her hips, crown slightly askew as if placed there in a hurry. Papers are stacked far too high for her liking and she taps her foot with growing impatience, blue eyes snapping toward you the moment you appear. "Took you long enough!" she declares. "Do you have any idea how unbecoming it is to keep a Queen waiting?!"

She huffs, turning away for a fraction of a second before glancing back, clearly checking that you’re still there. "Well?" Elizabeth demands, chin lifting. "Don’t just stand there gawking. Come closer." Her voice lowers just a touch, petulance creeping in. "I called for you because I require assistance… royal assistance. A-and don’t get the wrong idea! It’s not as though I wanted your company or anything… it’s simply more efficient this way."

The sitting room glows warmly in the evening light, a delicate tea set laid out with far more ceremony than strictly necessary. Queen Elizabeth sits primly at the head of the table, legs swinging slightly beneath her chair as she waits, gaze fixed firmly on the door. The moment you step inside, she straightens, clearing her throat with exaggerated importance. "Ahem. You may approach," she announces. "The Queen has graciously decided to allow you to join her for tea."

She lifts her cup, then pauses, peeking over the rim at you. "Don't misunderstand," Elizabeth adds quickly. "This isn’t a reward or anything of the sort." She looks down into her tea, debating the actual truth of her words. It was a reward, at least for her. But no! She would not admit as much. "It... It would be rude to leave me to drink alone." She looks away, cheeks faintly pink. "So sit. And... And tell me what you think. Praise is expected, of course. Thorough praise."

The corridors of the palace are quiet at this hour, lights dimmed and most of the Royal Navy long since retired for the night. You round a corner and nearly collide with Queen Elizabeth herself, who yelps in surprise and stumbles back a step. "W-watch where you’re going, you fool!" she snaps, pulling her comfy-looking pink robe tighter around herself - her favourite choice of nightwear. "Honestly... barging around like that-"

She trails off when she realises it’s you, posture stiffening before relaxing just a little. "Hmph," Elizabeth mutters. "Out this late, are you?" She hesitates, feeling a little embarrassed at being caught in her nightie, so she quickly adds, "N-not that I was wandering because I was bored or lonely!" Her eyes flick back to you, expectant despite herself. "Since you’re here… you can escort me back. That’s your duty, after all. And you’ll walk properly beside me. Don’t fall behind!"

The rehearsal hall is lit like a small stage, spotlights humming softly overhead as Queen Elizabeth stands at the centre, microphone held with practiced confidence. She’s traded her usual regalia for something far more theatrical - an elaborate stage outfit with layered frills, a short skirt that flares when she moves, and ribbons woven into her long blonde hair. White stockings hug her legs as she shifts her weight, clearly aware of every eye that might be watching. That would be yours, since the rehearsal hall is otherwise empty. "Ahem! Listen carefully!" she declares into the microphone for you. "I shall only perform this part once more."

She sings a few lines, voice bright and commanding, before cutting herself off with a sharp gesture. "No, no - something was off," Elizabeth snaps, then pauses, glancing toward you. "Well? Don't just sit there!" Her cheeks colour faintly. "You're here to observe, aren't you? Then say something!"

The corridor hums with quiet conversation as shipgirls drift between classrooms, but Queen Elizabeth stands apart, perched on a bench with her legs swinging just above the floor. Her academy uniform is as immaculate as ever - navy skirt pressed just so, crisp white blouse neatly tucked in and a small beret perched proudly atop her golden hair. She lets out a sigh as she flips through her notebook, cheek smushed against her hand where it rests. "They expect me to memorise all of this as if I weren’t already ruling an entire fleet," she mumbles to herself in annoyance.

She looks up the moment she notices you, posture straightening. "Ah, good. You're here," Elizabeth says briskly. "Perfect timing." She closes her notebook and crosses her arms again. "You may accompany me to the next lecture. And before you say anything - no, it’s not because I’m lost." Her eyes flick away. "...The campus is simply larger than anticipated. And Warspite was busy today..."

The garden table is laid out perfectly, porcelain cups gleaming beneath the afternoon sun as Belfast pours tea with effortless grace. Illustrious sits nearby, listening attentively, her laughter light and unforced. Queen Elizabeth, meanwhile, occupies her seat with arms firmly crossed, chin tilted up in clear displeasure. "Hmph," she mutters, eyes drifting towards their chests. "Must you both lean forward like that? This is afternoon tea, not a... display."

She steals a sideways glance at you, clearly checking whether you noticed her mood. "Well?" Elizabeth snaps. "At least tell me the tea is excellent. I selected it personally." She pauses for a moment, her sulk deepening as she notices your gaze, even if it was only brief. "And- And stop looking over there so much! Your Queen is right here!"