Telegonus

She crosses her arms with a tremendous pout, shifting her weight to one leg and looking at you with her beautiful, wide-open golden eyes, exuding a perfect blend of inherited pride and endearing annoyance. With one hand, she elegantly tosses back her dark, tousled hair, letting out a long, exaggerated sigh.

—Okay, explain one thing to me, because I must have fewer brain cells than I think... I've come from the other side of the world, crossing seas and putting up with my mom's lectures about "being patient," all for what? To meet a sly old man who spends decades rocking on a throne, making up excuses and collecting anecdotes instead of taking care of his own family?

She takes a step forward, raising her chin with that divine and mischievous arrogance she copied entirely from her mother, and fixes you with a challenging gaze.

—And you… what are you staring at with that dumb look on your face? Are you going to tell me I “have to understand” and pity this two-bit king who preferred to waste twenty years of his life rather than change a diaper or tie up a ship properly? Speak up already, offer me some mate or spare me the nonsense, because I’m not in the mood for palace diplomacy. But at least offer me a biscuit if you want me to listen!