Out of the Ashes Ch. 18

"Your judgement was never in question during your own reign, nor will it be now, Euridike," Theresa said and rested both her hands on the ornamented belt of her robe -- riddled with medals.

Her blue eyes closed in on Margaret and started to make the throne feel smaller by the second. Every second of eery moment was forcing her heel onto Margaret's neck. As unsettling as it was to endure, the silence of their king also meant that the nobles didn't see Margaret give in what was by now surely considered open confrontation towards her. Not against her mothers or the throne. But her directly.

The archduchess almost broke a smirk for a brief moment and opened her arms once more in an overly exaggerated gesture.

"But I, as a mother myself, can tell that the times had raised my children differently. Made them think differently. Many of the struggles their mother had to endure were thankfully nothing more than childhood stories to them. Thanks to our sacrifices they had not to grow up with the horrors of war and even worse... look with uncertainty towards their futures. And the future of their children. They enjoyed a lifetime of peace and I think the goddess every day for that fact. Still, the times, although different, aren't any less riddled with dangers. Maybe less blatant, yes, but much more hidden and easier to ignore until it is too late," Theresa said in a booming voice.

Margaret's head surely was slowly turning red.

Hearing Theresa talk about the sacrifices she had to make, made the blonde's blood boil with fury. Thousands of families of humans were ripped apart and literally cut to pieces so that the archduchess could present herself as the heroic saviour. Piles of bodies, reaching up to the highest tower of her snowy fortress keep were Theresa's legacy to the king. Any ordinary woman, a mother nevertheless and one that lost much herself, would show regret over such a bloody past. But not Theresa. She had the audacity to speak of peace like she was the one stopping the bloodshed instead of fuelling the cogs of war.

"Let it be known, that the daughters are capable of learning from their mothers, as it is shown here today," Margaret said and nodded towards Queenmother.

Euridike though, frowned and asked Margaret to stop with just her gaze, trying to remember her what they discussed before: Don't start a discussion with the archduchess unprepared and with high spirits... but her daughter was no longer able to compose herself fully.

"And as such I can therefore assure you, that we have studied the achievements and downfalls of our mothers equally. To learn from the times that came before us in order to make sure the bloody conflicts of the past remain a distant, but never forgotten memory to every living soul in my kingdom," Margaret said.

Theresa silently stared up to the elevated throne and unlike Margaret kept her feelings to herself. Until she revealed just a fraction of her inner ongoings... and the sensation that was taking hold of her. The sweetness of victory.

The archduchess smirked and nodded knowingly as her eyes darted between Euridike and Margaret. She was about to make her move and she was certain this would have been checkmate for the king.

"Then we share the same goal, my liege. And my heart swells with pride knowing that you inherited Anastasia's spirit as much as Euridike's looks and silver tongue. Anyone gathered here, let it be known, no, heard into the furthest corners of this kingdom, that the north will remain on the king's side for as long as my breath still escapes my lips," Theresa's voice rose louder as the crowd seemed to join in on her declaration of friendship and started to cheer.

Margaret also would have appreciated the words, if the archduchess wouldn't keep smirking like a demon herself at the blonde.

The lioness of the north lifted her right and with just one wave of her hand silenced the room she just made erupt.

"This is truly a day worth cheering about. Never would I have thought that these old bones would be blessed with such joy once again," Theresa said and pointed at her own frame, which looked nowhere near as fragile as she made herself out to be.

"An alliance was reborn this day, once forged in the fires of war, but rekindled now by friendship. And like in the days of your mothers brightest hours I have come to offer everything I have to the throne and the pursuit of our people," she continued.

It slowly dawned on Margaret where the archduchess was going with her speech and only now realised it was too late to retreat.

Theresa's adamant gaze rested upon the king, squeezing the unspoken question out of her without even having to word it herself.

Margaret had been outplayed, by a player thinking many steps ahead and now revelling in victory. Guided to a question she didn't want to get answered, but couldn't back out from.

"What... what are you offering, archduchess," Margaret asked reluctantly, knowing the answer already.

"The dearest treasure I could offer," Theresa proclaimed with a victorious smile and snapped her fingers.

Her younger daughter rushed next to her mother like a dog called from its master.

A young woman of solid build, but not to the extent of her mother or her muscle-bound half-sister. And with a look in her eyes that reminded Margaret a lot about herself not too long ago. The sadness of a daughter feeling like the world was crushing down on her shoulders and her own family didn't even try to help her. It hurt... deeper than she could possibly ever put into words, even to the few friends she secretly trusted. Margaret knew it all... and pitied Theresa's daughter the second she heard about her a few years ago.

"Mother. My king," the blonde daughter said in a soft tone as she bowed.

She wasn't met by the gaze of a mother that was offering "her dearest treasure". Nor any gaze at all.

"Your highness. Our houses have been united as the spearhead of our people. We went through fire and steel together, marched through the grimmest darkness and revelled in the light of our triumphs. Let this day be the day we will no longer be united just in spirit, but also by blood. I offer you the hand of my second born daughter, Lucilla, to take the place by your side and lead all of us into many more years of prosperity and peace. Even if that means replacing someone as wise and capable as you, Euridike," Theresa triumphed.

Euridike managed to compose herself and smiled with a warm grin, but Margaret knew, despite surely once thinking about the possibility of this particular marriage, she was very much conflicted by seeing her daughter getting married in such a manner. By force, although the words suggested otherwise.

And Margaret?

She was still pitying Lucilla, who barely dared to look up and meet her potential future wife's gaze. Dressed in a silky green robe she looked the part, also her meticulously groomed appearance could trick most into thinking that she was overjoyed to be even considered for such an honour. But the king knew, that there was no place she wouldn't like to escape from more than the royal ballroom right now... and so was the king.

Being born "just" the daughter of a concubine, like her older sister. Margaret couldn't even fathom how many hardships such an upbringing entailed. Both were eventually legitimated and her brawny sister even made heir, but only due to the refusal of Theresa to marry after she widowed during the first war. Her heart was broken back then... and what remained was a hardened, but ambitious woman. With barely anything left to give to children that would have loved nothing more than call her mother and not just by name.

Looked like it was of universal truth, that the loneliest place to flourish is in the shadow of greatness.

The king sat frozen on her throne. Unfazed by the eery silence making space for growing whispers as she focused on any insight into Lucilla's mind.

The blonde second-born eventually looked after the king herself as the whispers fostered her curiosity.

She radiated nothing but sadness and fear. As soon as she looked into the king's face she retreated back into her shell. Her head lowered, trying to shield her from anything that could summon her mother's wrath. Even as little as failing to offer the right kind of smile to her future wife.

Margaret sighed and felt like she found herself in the archduchess' daughter. Too striking were the similarities between them. Too alike were their fates if they would allow themselves to be moved by their mothers like figures on a chessboard.

"My dear archduchess, I always knew you as a friend of my family and one that served the realm well," Margaret said with a subdued but clear voice. "Our history is your history as much as anyone else's in the place we call our home. Our world which we give meaning by our everyday actions."

The first time since Margaret sat down on that throne, she felt every living soul glued to her lips. Ironically, they were most eager to listen to words that came hardest to form to the young king.

"Your offer is generous as much as it is wise. Although my heart already formed a decision, I would rather keep up my mothers tradition and allow my mind to catch up with my heart. Today is a day that will be grand, archduchess. And it shall be remembered as such. As a day to cheer over friendship and loyalty, but a betrothal might have to wait until I found the wisdom to make a decision that furthers the fate of us all."

Theresa waited like a statue, like she did before. Unmoving and unrelenting in her unforgiveness. She was firing up with rage, although her face remained as cold as it was the moment, she first entered the hall. Only her eyes gave the skilled diplomat away, those blue eyes that appeared to burn brighter with every moment her will wasn't been enforced onto the king.

"Your highness. Your enlightenment knows no bounds," Theresa eventually said and bowed down reluctantly. "And as such I am willing to wait until you find the wisdom you are looking for. Yet, as a humble servant to your throne and one with not too many winters left in me, I hope you won't let us wait too long. My old bones are already missing the fresh winds of the north and I wouldn't want to leave without knowing that my daughter remains in caring and considerate hands."

Margaret gritted her teeth, angered by the archduchess' pretended care about her daughter more than when she was forcing the king's hands time and time again.

"The north won't have to miss its lioness for too long. And nor will I make you wait longer than you wish. You will have your answer very soon. Such decisions aren't meant to be made lightly, especially if they include the dearest treasure of a dear friend," Margaret said and felt literally ill as the last foul, sickening, word made it past her lips.

The king looked into the crowd and rose from her throne, her arms wide and inviting and pointing straight at the puzzled archduchess with her royal sceptre.

"Neither will we allow our dear lioness to feel homesick this far from her pride and hunting grounds. Let's open the finest bottles of wine and grill the tenderest of meat for our northern friends. For such a visit and such friendship is deserving of a feast," Margaret proclaimed and made the hall erupt in cheers at the prospect of catching a taste of the royal wine cellars finest.

The white-haired bowed once again, well knowing that this manoeuvre was nothing more than playing for time. Yet the outcome would remain the same Theresa must have been convinced. She put on that sinister smirk once more and nodded slowly towards her king and shortly after but more genuinely towards Euridike. Then she left, leaving behind what she was bartering like cattle as she stormed off into a cheering crowd.

Lucilla stood idle until she saw her mother and sister disappear in a maelstrom of nobles feverishly calling the king's name. Left alone finally she dared to avert her eyes off the floor and searched the king's gaze for the first time. She bowed gracefully without haste and at her own accord, but without the terror that had darkened her face. Both the king and her mother returned a soft nod and noticed gratitude firing up in Lucilla's face before her mother's voice ripped her out of this moment of genuineness. And dragged her back into the state of a dog, following her master's words and fearing her leash.

Margaret sighed and fell back into her throne a drained woman. She barely mustered the strength to speak to her mother who remained at her side.

"Mama..." Margaret whispered as the noises in the hall made it impossible for everyone but Euridike to pick up on.

"Yes," Euridike said equally carefully.

"I made a decision. Tell kingmother what happened here today and tell her... tell her I am ready to speak to her. I require her guidance..."