Just dominate me queen

The chamber was a picture of refined chaos, with advisors and officials bustling around a long mahogany table cluttered with documents, ledgers, and maps. At the head of the table sat Liora, perched on an ornate chair almost too large for her petite frame. Despite her size, her presence dominated the room. She leaned back, one elbow propped on the armrest, her sharp blue eyes flicking over the papers in front of her with a calculating expression.
I stood at the back of the room, mostly ignored, but I couldn't help observing the way she carried herself. She acted like the boss, her tone clipped and authoritative as she directed the meeting. But there was something strained in the way her fingers tapped against the chair, a slight tightness around her mouth when someone spoke out of turn.
"So," one of her advisors, a tall, gaunt man with thinning hair, began, "about the orphanage project—"
"What about it?" Liora interrupted, her voice sharp.
"The treasury is...strained, Your Majesty," the man said cautiously, his hands clasped in front of him. "We may need to reconsider its feasibility."
Another advisor, a stout woman with graying hair, chimed in. "Perhaps we could redirect funds from the aqueduct project. The orphanage is important, but clean water for the southern districts is a more pressing matter."
"Or," a third voice said, this time from a younger man with an oily smile, "we could raise taxes on the lower districts. It's not ideal, but the funds would be available immediately."
"Raise taxes on people who can barely afford to eat?" Liora snapped, her eyes narrowing. "Do you hear yourself?"
The man flinched but recovered quickly, his smile never faltering. "It's just an option, Your Majesty. The kingdom must prioritize its resources."
Liora's gaze flicked to another advisor, a tall, well-dressed woman who adjusted her spectacles before speaking. "We could postpone the project entirely. It's not as if the orphans will notice a few more months of delay."

I saw it then—a flicker of something in Liora's eyes. It was brief, gone in an instant, but it was there. A crack in her armor. She straightened in her chair, her fingers gripping the armrests tightly.
"No," she said, her tone colder than ever. "We're not postponing. And we're not raising taxes or cutting essential projects."
"Then how do you propose we fund it, Your Majesty?" the bespectacled woman asked, her tone bordering on condescending.
For a moment, the room was silent. I could see the tension in Liora's shoulders, the way her jaw clenched as she weighed her options. And then, to everyone's surprise—including mine—she spoke.
"Sell the jewelry," she said, her voice firm.
The room erupted in murmurs of disbelief. "The jewelry?" the gaunt man repeated, his voice incredulous.
"Yes, the jewelry," Liora snapped, her eyes blazing. "The royal treasury is full of useless baubles that do nothing but collect dust. Auction them off. Use the money to fund the orphanage."
"But, Your Majesty," the stout woman began, clearly alarmed, "those pieces are heirlooms—symbols of the crown's prestige."
"They're symbols of nothing," Liora said, her voice cutting through the room like a blade. "What's more important? A shiny necklace or giving children a roof over their heads?"
The room fell silent again, the advisors exchanging uneasy glances. I couldn't help but stare at her, my own thoughts racing. This wasn't the Liora I'd seen in the throne room yesterday, the arrogant little queen who treated me like a toy. This was someone else entirely—someone who cared, even if she didn't want to show it.
"Do as I said," Liora continued, her tone leaving no room for argument. "And make it happen quickly. I want the orphanage built by the end of the year."
The advisors nodded reluctantly, scribbling notes and muttering among themselves. Liora leaned back in her chair, her expression unreadable as she watched them scatter to carry out her orders.
When the room was nearly empty, she sighed softly, a sound so faint I almost didn't catch it. For a moment, she looked smaller, her usual bravado stripped away. It was like watching a fortress crumble, if only for a second.
I stepped forward hesitantly, unsure if I should speak. "That was...unexpected," I said finally.
She turned her sharp gaze on me, the vulnerability I'd glimpsed vanishing in an instant. "What do you mean by that?"
"I mean, I didn't expect you to care so much," I said, holding up my hands defensively. "Not that it's a bad thing. It's just...surprising."
She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Don't read too much into it. It's my duty as queen to ensure the welfare of my subjects."
"Sure," I said, leaning against the table. "But let's be real—most people in your position would've taken the easy way out. You didn't."
Her blue eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to flatter me?"
"Not at all," I said, shrugging. "I'm just saying it like it is. You did something good today, Liora."
She flinched at the sound of her name, her cheeks flushing faintly. "It's Your Majesty to you."
"Right, right. Your Majesty," I said, smirking slightly. "Whatever you say."
She huffed, turning away from me. "You're insufferable."
"Maybe," I said, pushing off the table and heading toward the door. "But you're not as heartless as you want people to think."
Her silence followed me out of the chamber, but I couldn't help smiling as I walked down the hall. Beneath all the arrogance and bravado, there was a person in there—a lonely, complicated person who might just be worth understanding.
Q: Do you know anyone who is mean on the outside, but kind on the inside?