Queen
She was not looking for a knight. She was looking for a sword. -Aticcus.
"Princess Lucy, we have to go, the dragon in getting nearer!".
"Who are you, gentleman?!"
"Lord Tarr of High Rock! Rumor of your kidnapping extended and I have come, after surpassing a thousand perilous challenges, to your aid!"
"Thank you for your service, Lord Tarr, but I'm a Queen. I've got my dagger. And that, sir, is all I need".
Pull yourself together
"Pour yourself a drink, put on some lipstick and pull yourself together". -Elizabeth Taylor
"Get out, Peter!"
"But Su-"
"I Said. Get. Out."
Seconds passed in silence. The High King left and closed the door quietly. Wisely, no maid or lady-in-waiting approached Susan.
"He is such an asshole sometimes! How dare him! I should just- ugh! To the fuck with him!"
Susan, enraged, is not Gentle. And most definitely, not lady-like. She poured a cup of dark Narnian wine. It's not strong enough.
After a while, someone knocked on the door. "My Queen? Are you well? The Ambassador is waiting for you. And Merry said your presence is urgently needed in the Council Room. Healer Diana asks for infirmary supplies and Lord Basil requested-" Zia keept on with her to-do list.
After some red lipstick Queen Susan opened the door.
"Tell Ambassador Ali to meet me in the South Garden at five, have the Treasury investigate healing supplies existences versus monthly needs, tell Basil that no, Annabeth is too young yet and have refreshments and an extra scribe sent to the council room. Thank you, Zia. Dismissed".
Exile
Some things are worse than death.
"You shall head south, and never return".
"Ha! You think that will hurt me, eh? You'll regret your decisions, Your Majesty!"
"You don't see it, do you?"
There it was. The smile that make people's knees tremble. It was more like a wolf's bared teeth, menacing and merciless. Like the dark-haired king enjoyed thinking of the pain that would surely come to this man.
"Sometimes, life is better punishment than death, Dane".
Charging
"I wish the whole army would charge like that." -Abraham Lincoln, after being accidentally hit by an army officer.
"My King", he greeted, "These moose are responsible for the snow cannon that hit you."
"We are truly sorry, Your Majesty. We are so much sorry!"
"Yes, very sorry. The snowball -snow cannon, I mean- it- it was not supposed to-to reach you… A thousand apologies, Sire!"
The moose bowed, utterly ashamed, and kept their eyes glued to the ground.
The High King laughed softly and smiled kindly at them. "One's enough, good Cousins; I wish the whole army would shoot like that!"