Out of the Ashes Ch. 13

She took a few swings and Anastasia slowly gave way. This didn't make any sense. The princess was going on the offensive, but not because she started to overwhelm her mother, but because she allowed it. Margaret's strikes were not nearly strong or precise enough to pose any threat for someone like Anastasia. Even the ones she purposely put almost no strength into, seemed to make her mother struggle ... until the impossible happened.

One particularly lax strike made Anastasia's sword whistle into the sky before coming down with a metallic clang.

"Good... you have won," the king said with the corner of her mound barely suppressing a smile.

"No... you threw the fight," Margaret gasped.

"I did not. You beat me and will be a more than worthy successor," Anastasia said, this time loud enough that her guards would hear it.

"Pick up your sword again... we can still fight," the princess muttered and slowly realized what was happening.

"No... I am done fighting," the king said and fell to her knees before her daughter.

"Get up..." Margaret demanded with a wavering voice.

"We have a pact. Honour our tradition and claim your victory," Anastasia said and threw her head back to expose her throat.

The whimpering of queenmother's muffled screams echoed louder from behind the dead-silent guards standing all around Anastasia and Margaret. Even Sybilla could be heard loudly crying as they all witnessed this historic scene.

"I am proud of you, my child," Anastasia said and smiled one last time before closing her green eyes. "Now do it."

The princess raised her sword above her head, ready to be the executioner her mother demanded, but this simply didn't make any sense. What was going on? Nothing here made any sense. 'Kingmother' fought her trembling body and clenched her fist, but Margaret already noticed her mother's supressed reaction. Even someone like her, the proudest warrior of their generation, was ultimately terrified by the prospect of facing death. Yet she offered her life willingly.

"Don't let me wait. Do it. I know you want to," Anastasia said and tried to sound steadfast, but her body gave her true feelings away.

But she was right. Margaret, in her darkest hours sometimes daydreamed about taking her revenge on her mother. To make her pay for humiliating her all these years, to make her feel unloved and unwanted time and time again. But now that she had the opportunity she didn't know if she still wanted to.

The blonde took a deep breath and mustered all the willpower she had left for one final solution. She drew out her sword and saw both Alexia and Anastasia tensing up in anticipation of her strike.

A strike that would bring down death upon the reigning king. A strike that would bestow the crown upon her. A strike that would never come.

Margaret 's arm tensed up and with a scream of pure anger and frustration she called down the final blow. When she made contact with 'kingmother', it would be with her fist not her blade, knocking her mother out instead of beheading her.

The most legendary warrior of their time collapsed into the dirt before her - beaten by her own will not by being bested.

The princess' body shook in the aftermath of her strike. Even Alexia's attempts to calm her didn't take any burden off of her. Adrenaline was pumping through her veins and she barely could fathom that she really punched her mother unconscious. Still, a feeling deep inside of her assured her that her decision not to kill 'kingmother' was the right one.

"You won, Maggie, you did it!" Alexia cheered while hugging her lover.

Margaret barely noticed her partner's presence, but she picked up on what was happening next.

Guards approached from all sides and closed in. Their faces were mostly hidden under their helmets and Margaret didn't know if her mother gave them any orders for this occasion as well. This fear lingered on her, until she saw that 'queenmother' was freed and that her desperate weeping had stopped. Margaret only had to only look into her mother's eyes to know that her decision to spare 'kingmother' was the right one.

Margaret just wanted to return into the arms of 'mama', to let this nightmare finally come to an end, but who emerged from the circle of eerily silent soldiers was their new commander. A proud and strong woman, towering in appearance and equipped with the finest armour her kind had to offer. If someone would use this outcome for her own gains it would be someone like her.

She walked up right in front of her princess and instead of drawing her sword, she silently fell to her knee, with the rest of her soldiers following her example.

"All hail our new king!" she proclaimed, followed by ever growing chants of at first her troop, later by the assembled army in front of the palace. Chants that grew louder and were soon accompanied by Euridike and Sybilla, although much less empathic by the later.

"Margaret! Margaret! Margaret! Margaret!"

Margaret stood above her mother's unconscious body and let the wave of a thousand voices wash over her.

She didn't honour her people's tradition. Only one should walk away from this duel alive. That was the pact both agreed on, anything else was a farce. Still, the troops were celebrating Margaret as the victor, and therefore their new king - just like she feared.

The chants eventually came to an end, with the leader of the guard rising to her feet and taking off her helmet.

"My king. By the honour that binds us we hereby swear to serve you to the end of time. What will be your orders, my liege?" she asked.

The blonde slowly nodded and turned around to face the town at the foot of the hill. Her gaze was filled with sorrow already.

"Many. But one which is the most urgent," she said and smiled sadly.

"Anything you desire, your highness," the commander said.

"Find a man called Manuel. Tell him... tell him, I kept my promise. But I am afraid he will have to look for another waitress."