Out of the Ashes Ch. 12

"Good to see you too," Margaret smiled and noticed a feeling of pride in seeing her sister failing to match her height.

"You look like your growth spurt was also a productive one," Margaret mused and playfully smacked Sybilla's bulging arms. She perked an eyebrow on how solid they felt.

"Look who's talking!" Sybilla grinned and her eyes wandered all over Margaret's strained outfit. "I assume the humans didn't know what hit them when you started growing like that. I mean... wow. It suits you, not gonna lie. You must be even bigger than queenmother now."

Just mentioning their mother was enough to make the blonde's mood sour. She exhaled and slowly shook her head.

"Let's not talk about her for now, ok? Also, not about 'kingmother', please," Margaret groaned while rolling her eyes.

Sybilla's gaze was one of confusion for a few moments before she looked over to Euridike standing next to Alexia, riddled with shame and regret.

"Don't be angry at them, they really only wanted the best for you. They really missed you, Margaret. We all did," Sybilla said.

"Not you too," Margaret muttered. "Did everyone know about this?!"

"Only the ones who needed to know."

Margaret grit her teeth and leaned forward.

"Then I should have known. Not that I should have to worry about such things in the first place," she whispered into Sybilla's ears while eying Anastasia patiently waiting and observing.

"Things... are complicated. But try not to be melodramatic. This is not just about you," Sybilla said coldly.

The blonde's eyes widened and a cold shiver went down her spine. Her body stiffened and she pushed her shoulders outwards, her arms crossed before her chest.

"Don't tell me you agree. Don't even dare to say to me that they had the right to do such a thing," Margaret hissed.

Sybilla pondered for a few seconds before letting out a sigh. Unlike the troop of scouts, she didn't waver when looking into the blonde's furious eyes. The younger princess rested a hand on the grip of her sword and one on her waist, equally ready for confrontation as her sister.

"That's not my call to make. Just give them the chance to explain... and you will understand in the end. Like I did," she said calmly.

"Explanation? I always hear 'explanation'. You can't explain doing such a thing to your daughter! If you are so convinced... why don't tell me yourself?!" Margaret raged.

The black-haired girl stood proud and unmoving like a pillar. Her own green eyes only gave small insight on what she was feeling.

"Why are you like this? Can't you stop pretending to be the victim for even a second?" Sybilla eventually said.

"What?!"

Margaret's face reddened, her body tensed up and for a moment she felt obliged to hit her younger audacious sister. That pretentious brat.

She was about to explode with anger to let years of feeling deprived of her mother's love run rampant and explain in every small detail how Sybilla had no right to ever speak about being a 'victim' at all.

The moment she took a deep breath and her sister braced for a tirade a strong and determined hand rested on the younger princess' shoulder.

"That's enough. Sisters shouldn't fight over their parent's mistakes," Anastasia said.

She towered over a head above Sybilla, who now looked like nothing but an impostor, trying to look like the mighty king herself. Even after hitting a massive growth spurt, Margaret only reached Anastasia's nose and had to look up to look her into her infuriatingly cold eyes.

Eyes that appeared to be filled with sorrow for once, not the stoic arrogance which haunted Margaret for years. An expression that took the blonde princess by surprise. She squinted, thinking on how she should address her mother now that they stood face to face - but like so many times in the past no words came out.

Anastasia formed a pained smile and reached her hand out to her daughter, clearly craving for the same affection Euridike and Sybilla received. She shall not receive any.

"Maybe we wouldn't fight if it wasn't for our parents," Margaret muttered and stumbled back. "My king." She added.

The cold formality of her title was the only fitting retort she managed to come up with. Distant and deprived of any love.

Anastasia, the 10ft ruler of the kingdom appeared to be shrinking as Margaret rejected her. She might be a proud and hard woman, but every mother would be hurt by such treatment.

"I hope you are doing well, Margaret," she said calmly.

"I came here to negotiate, my king," Margaret replied, not intended to give her even a quarter on pretending that she was a caring mother to her.

"Don't call me that, please."

"My king," she insisted and again noticed the pain in the king's green eyes. "We got far more important things to discuss right now."

"There is nothing more important than family, Margaret".

The blonde gave the silent treatment, but couldn't stop her eye from twitching and her fists from clenching. Family? What a farce. But she swallowed her anger and continued to see her mother as nothing more than her title - and revelled in seeing Anastasia being deeply hurt by it.

"Your highness. I speak for the town's folk you plan to attack and am here to negotiate terms of surrender."

Anastasia stared at Margaret without showing any emotions past her initial sadness. She searched for Margaret's gaze which kept evading her advances. The highking seemed only interested in speaking with Margaret, her daughter, not the negotiator, but eventually she had to give in.

She took a deep breath and sighed.

"There are no terms of surrender. The town's fate has been sealed already," she said sternly.

Margaret trembled and her dwelling on her mother's clear discomfort immediately stopped when hearing the finality of her king's words.

"You wanted your daughter. Here I am. No need to attack the town anymore... my king," she said in a wavering tone.

"These people killed my guard. Such treason demands retribution."

"Hold on. They only acted in self-defence... you had no right to send them in there," Margaret gasped.

"I had all the right. As a king and as a mother," Anastasia said.

The 10ft ruler walked past her stunned daughter and looked at Alexia bent over her sword as a make-shift crutch.

"This only shows me, that they still don't know their place. They should have learned by now. But I will make them understand," she said in a tone that made the former commander shiver with fear.

Margaret rushed in between Alexia and kingmother and started to yell.

"You won't kill anyone! I came here to avoid bloodshed. You can have me, but spare them instead," the princess begged.

"No traitor will be spared. They wouldn't spare any of us if the roles would be reversed. As you have witnessed yourself."

Margaret breathed heavily and punched her mother's black chest piece - the king didn't even flinch.

"Then ... I will... stop you. I won't let you slaughter them, because of your bloodthirst!" she yelled and grabbed Alexia's hand. "We are going!"

"I am afraid I can't allow that," Anastasia said and with a gesture ordered her bodyguards to form a wide circle around them.

"You can't hold me hostage. I won't stop fighting you and will let the whole kingdom know!"

"It's not noble to fight for a lost cause, Margaret," the king said.

"No, but for a just cause! And certainly not for a genocidal monster like you!"

"I only do what needs to be done. For the good of our people," the enigmatic ruler muttered.

"You are a self-obsessed monster! Only interested in your personal glory, claiming to value your people and your family! Just lies to give you the excuses you need!" Margaret exploded.

"Don't let your emotions cloud your mind, Margaret. You are smarter than that. It's never been about glory. It's about securing our people's future ... I hoped you would understand by now," Anastasia replied, while shaking her head.

It certainly pained her to hear Margaret call her a monster. Her gaze was one of disappointment and anger, but the imposing warrior seemed to stand above her feelings in that manner. Something the princess had to aspire to as well.

Margaret looked around and found all eyes resting on her. Her family's, Alexia's, even the guards appeared to be begging her to give in and stop resisting. Yet she expected that it might come down to this.

"Oh no, I understand. I will only do what needs to be done as well, my king," she spit with the utmost distaste.

She reached for the human sword lazily dangling from her belt and casually pushing into her leg. The dull blade rose towards the sky, accompanied by the guards exchanging nervous gazes and silently awaiting orders as her weapon was exposed. Margaret gave it one last look before throwing it to her mother's feet.

It was an ancient custom passed on over countless generations to throw your sword towards your opponents' feet before trading it back. One that demanded the utmost respect and honour from both parties. Any warrior following their people's principles of chivalry would forever tarnish their reputation and honour by violating such a proposal - or by attacking the unarmed challenger. This tradition was as well-known as it was tied to the heroes of old. Simple peasants rising to the status of heroes, nobles, queens and kings who chose to die over breaking their code. And as everybody of their people and especially Margaret knew: the highking was one of the most outspoken warriors defending this ancient conduct.

"I hereby demand my birth right and challenge you to a duel. We will fight like our ancestors did. I shall claim your crown or die trying," the princess proclaimed.