It doesn't have to be too late for them. Her mind is full of it, as she watches her. It is too late for her. The world she knew was gone. A feudal Queen, the oldest customs that had set her in place, were swallowed up, eaten by beasts, drained of life by awful creatures. Gone, gone, gone to the empty maw of am ever hungry Empire. Like the demons created that had given her nightmares as a child, gnawing, consuming, even of which that created them. She doesn't think they know how to stop. She too, has been torn to shreds by them.

She bows again, stiff, her own people's custom - she kneels on one leg, and touches the ground just in front of her feet. A gaze up, soft and harsh in the same instant. How she might have been, when she had so desperately whispered the words. they will not take my Jhansi from me. She swallows on something old and painful in the throat that has clearly never quite healed.

"Blessings upon you and your husband, Countess. Long may you fight, and may you never know what I have." It means everything, nothing, losing a war and forgetting what life could have been, even in fond thoughts. She is tired and - it's too late, for her, she knows. She will never be the woman she was.

It doesn't have to be too late for them.

She rises again, still head down. Amusement rich in her tone. "If you will excuse me. I must go tend to my own war preparations, it seems." She's sure it'll be nothing less than a battle to get what she desires.