Gothel had only one job. Thus she had only one saying:

"Blume-Schimmer und Glanz. Lassen Sie Ihre Kräfte glänzen. Lassen Sie die Zeit still zu stehen. Bringt mir alles, die was mein ist. Flower gleam and glow. Let your powers shine. Let time stand still. Bring to me all that is mine."

She had not been only the most beautiful maiden in the land but the most powerful. She was a princess. Her will brought out the powers of the rampion the most and only the most trusted and powerful in the land could grow the protected species.

"If only those blasted Franks won't trample the forest! They kill my people yet they seek eternal life?"

Gothel's royal advisor came in with a medieval telegram. "Your Honor—uh... um, I mean, Your Majesty. There's a new environmental group petitioning to grow campanula rapunculus. I advise you to seriously consider their advocacy. The towns and countries are in a dearth and sadly, we can't afford to feed them off rations for this war. The Franks are winning by the looks of it."

"What did I tell you? Stop pestering me with your pessimism! We haven't even tried rations yet. Great idea! Thanks, now leave." Gothel was always the spoiled brat, though still pure of intention.

"Majesty." He hated calling her that. She demanded to be called majesty when she was still princess. "I strongly, strongly advise you to choose between rations and war if you must choose, but, above all, I urge you to bestow some of your power on these environmentalists."

"Those granola cardboard-eating hippies? No one is purer in the land. Heaven spoke to me through its gift. Hidden except to me. I'm sorry to jump out at you but I need time alone to process, recuperate, and meditate to gain heaven's wisdom and advice. Some things are hidden only to other's eyes and ears."

"As you wish, my princess." The advisor, Ganther, cringed at his accidental slip in address. "I mean—Majesty." To his surprise, Gothel didn't blow a gasket. He guessed she just needed privacy. The demands of a queen took that common privilege away.

Okay, she wasn't all spoiled but she was showing increasing signs of superiority. Who single-track mind blindsighted her to taking care of herself and the ones around her. In some ways she was an old soul; in others, still a child.

"Those Frenchies aren't taking my Motherland in my time," she said to the silence.

Ganther missed the old Gothel. Or young Gothel, more accurately. Sometimes she could be so hypocritical. One day she could lecture her advisors and subjects on the importance of zero-tolerance for arranged marriages and the importance of conservation in the kingdom of Corona. Other times, she would use politically incorrect phrases like "corset burners" or "Frenchie-small-fries."

Ganther put his feet up on the velvet, upholstered stool next to the fireplace in his chambers. The crepuscule was almost over. The rampion could rest. The sun could rest. He could finally dream of possibilities.

Should I have gone into the interior design guild? What if I had chosen a different path? I long to do what is best for me! Why can't Gothel do the same? Heck, she doesn't even know what's best for Corona anymore! But wait... she needs me. Maybe from the money I save up here, I can start my own guild.

The fire pretty soon faded in the western sky, the hearth, and in Ganther's eyes. Dreams had to wait before responsibilities. A council of war was to be held the morrow in the great hall.