Laurel didn’t see her parents much as a child. She was raised primarily by nannies at the request of her father, who seemed to think that she’d get more out of that than she would have had she been raised by her own mother. While she doesn’t agree, she can at least admit that this left her with a kind of strange, hero worship-ish admiration for her parents that she likely wouldn’t have had otherwise. Because she saw so little of them, the stories of her father’s might and her mother’s glamor enthralled her and gave her something to work toward. She longed for the days in which she would see one or both of them and could often be found pacing around her room on those days, rehearsing what it what she planned to say.
As she got older and more involved in the kingdom’s politics – and with Blodwen and her father, obviously – she found her respect for her mother growing and her respect for her father lessening. He was less noble than she’d heard. Her mother, on the other hand, was far more capable than she’d heard. Feeling quite confused and lied to, Laurel decided to make it her goal to embody everything her mother was and her father wasn’t. With almost unsettling dedication, she threw herself into politics, combat training, language…anything that, in her mind, could turn her into the leader she ought to be.
…But it might be nice if she had some time for other things. Really, a princess can only slay so many monsters and entertain so many foreign diplomats and attend so many events and so on and so forth. She runs a high risk of either burning out or losing her mind. Whichever comes first. For now, though, she’s a very capable young woman with an apparently unflappable public persona and a good set of morals.