Out of the Ashes Ch. 19

Chapter 19: Burden of the crown

(5,4k words, futa, character focus, dialogue, plot chapter, medieval politics, character motivation, family drama)

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Margaret waited for minutes in silence, caught up by the emptiness of her mind as she looked down the final few stairs.

"It had to come to this, didn't it?" she thought and shook her head.

A king, dressed in her most glamorous attire, at the peak of her youth and strength, had to hand in her pride for a crown she didn't even long for. What a bizarre world she found herself in.

Her fingers shook slightly, as did the rest of her now 9'3" figure. This was a conversation she didn't intend on having, but one that was certainly needed at this point. Her first skirmish with the archduchess made this conversation inevitable and forced Margaret's hand. But would she be pulling out a trump card or be left hanging once again? In her hour of need? She would know for sure in a few minutes... if she dared to enter.

She calmed her breath and composed herself enough to waken herself from such an all-consuming, paralyzing numbness and started to descend the last stairs until the iron gate and its guardian came into view.

As usual Larissa stood watch at this time of day and immediately reached for her sheathed sword until she saw who came to visit the prisoner. Looked like she took her king's new order very seriously: Only members of the royal family are allowed to enter. No exceptions. Especially not Archduchess Theresa.

"It's fine Larissa. No need to draw swords yet," Margaret said with a soft grin.

"Apologies my king. I heard footsteps," the fully armoured guard said from behind her black helmet.

"No need to apologize. You are fulfilling your duty with great care. If anything, I have to thank you," Margaret mused and stopped right before Larissa.

The veteran by now had to look up to the king, even more so than at her last visit. A fact that seemed to have surprised Larissa quite a bit at first, but as usual she kept her lips shut for anything not regarding her duties.

"Did anyone try to visit the prisoner?" Margaret asked.

"Only your mother and your sister, your highness. Both are still with the prisoner," she said.

"I know."

Larissa paused and kept her eyes locked to the steps leading to the entrance, while the king stood next to her in total silence.

"My king, you don't have to wait for anybody. You can enter," she eventually said.

"I know. But I am not sure if I want to. Not yet," April sighed but smiled. "Do you know that feeling? Of things you know you should take care of and still dread doing with all your heart?"

The guard stood silent for another eternity before once again addressing the king.

"Your grace, please forgive me. But I am in no position to council a king on such things," Larissa said for the first time with doubt in her voice.

"Yet, I still ask you for your opinion. Besides, you must have picked up a lot by just standing here and seeing all the family drama unfold," Margaret said.

"My... my ears are sealed. Nothing escaped these doors, my king," Larissa assured without any of her naturally given authority.

"We both know that is not true. Please, drop the act. Just this time."

Margaret rested a hand on the shoulder of a woman she always remembered while growing up. Larissa might have always been taller and older than her, but once the king or queen were not looking, she was quite often willing to offer a chuckle or two to a young and often struggling princess. This woman seemed to have been replaced by her grim, and exclusively duty driven twin sister now that she was serving another king. Thankfully this woman from years ago didn't disappear fully.

"You... should speak to the kin-... to the prisoner, my liege," she eventually said and dared looking up to meet the king's blue eyes. "Your mothers are wise and strong. Use them to your advantage."

Margaret cheeks rose until she couldn't lift them any further.

"You have my gratitude, Larissa. Thank you for your guidance and your honesty," she said with a soft clap as she started to reach for the handle.

Just to have her fingers slip into the unknown by a handle that moved on its own.

Margaret and Larissa stepped aside and made room for the hulking figure leaving the prison. Of such haste were her steps that the king had to hurry to catch a glimpse on her sisters face as she rushed by.

In the furthest corner of her vision Margaret held on for the fracture of a second to notice the tears streaming down Sybilla's cheeks -- as well as her wide and overjoyed grin.

"Sybilla..." Margaret muttered and felt a soft hand on her shoulder moments later.

"You don't have to worry, Margaret. Those were not tears of sadness, but of happiness," Euridike said calmly.

"What could bring her so much joy that she of all people would want to cry so openly I wonder."

Euridike smiled as she looked after her younger daughter rushing up the stairs and hear her cheerful steps echo like she was dancing to the most uplifting of tunes.

"She just received a gift she craved for way too long and one she had earned for almost as long," Euridike said cryptically.

Margaret's eyebrows perched instinctively, before her brain could start deciphering her mother's message. Of course! This must be it!

The king's eyes widened with joy and made her gaze return to where Sybilla ascended up the stairs. Her hulking figure might be gone, but the echoes of her gleeful exit still poured into the walls.

"So, she had her moment with mother. One that was truly hers. What did she say?" Margaret said with a wide grin on her face.

"The most important thing: Convincing her that both her mothers love her and that their hearts are filled with pride upon marvelling at the woman their daughter grew into," Euridike said and also proudly followed the echoes emerging from above.

"Good. She needed to hear that," Margaret said and returned her attention to her mother who she barely ever saw this enthralled. "So, kingmother's walls are finally crumbling. Who have I to thank for achieving such an impossible feat? You or Sybilla?"

"You have to thank the person you see when you look in the mirror," Euridike said with a warm smile.

"Me? I didn't do anything..."

"You... and the way you talked to her had a big impact on her," Euridike started and paused as her proud grin slowly retreated off her face. "I have never seen her this distraught. You made her think."

The king couldn't believe her ears. Sure, she saw her mother cry, the first time ever, but would never expect that her words resonated with kingmother past that one moment of weakness.

"There is hope then? Hope that she can change her mind on other things as well?" Margaret asked cautiously.

"I... am not sure. She might start to see her motherly duties in a different light now, but about her obligations as a king? She seemed even more adamant. Especially after I told her about Theresa's visit."

Margaret's stomach cramped up upon listening to these words. All the genuine delight from moments ago was swept away with them and brought her back to the worries that made her question entering the dungeon in the first place. But there was no going back now.

"I see. Thank you, mama. Maybe my words will find fruitful ground once more," she said sternly.

"Should I join you?"

"No. I need to face her alone. It's like she said: How can I ever be king when I am not even woman enough to face my own mother?" Margaret said and for a moment shared a gaze with Larissa overlooking her before turning back into her idle state but her mind remained even more watchful.

Larissa silently and dutifully stood watch and pretended she didn't hear a word from the former queen and current king talking a few feet next to her. Her eyes were drawn to the shadows where the stairs started and her microcosmos ended. She didn't exist beyond that periphery and without the purpose of protecting this gate. Not during her watch. That was a royal guard's life. Yet, the moment her king entered the dungeon and the moment she was left alone with her thoughts she smiled, smiled for an old friend that made her swell with pride. And due to the fact that even a guard's advice could find fruitful ground on royal soil.

Silence loomed over the royal dungeon and seemed to grow increasingly deafening with every step the king took towards the sole inmate's cell.

Anastasia stood at her full height and even behind bars usually looked like she could break out by her sheer physical might alone, especially now that she was no longer chained to the floor. Yet, she looked more vulnerable and weakened than Margaret could ever remember seeing her.

Her mother's eyes were red, her tears barely dried and cleansed her vibrant green eyes from the authoritarian, predatory gaze that haunted Margaret for so many years.

"How are you feeling, mother?" Margaret asked in a soft but cautious tone.

"Good... I am... feeling good... Hope you also come in good spirit, Margaret," she said in between desperate breaths.

The former king had to compose herself from a conversation that clearly had an equally strong impact on her as it had on Sybilla.

"I should grant you some privacy," Margaret said softly. "I will visit you later."

"No! I... haven't ever felt more suited to talk to my daughters than right now," Anastasia said with an expression between almost crying and smiling. "Besides, we need to talk. Now more than ever."

Margaret sighed and mentally forsake the newly found empathy for her mother as she returned to pushing kingly matters before motherly ones.

"I see. But you might be right. There are topics of great importance that need to be addressed today rather than tomorrow."

Anastasia slowly stepped forward and started to tower above her already gargantuan daughter. At least as much as any prisoner could tower over a king by barely 9 inches.

"You met the lioness and now fear her canines? You are wise to do that," Anastasia said and noticed the anger grow on her daughter's face. "Euridike told me everything and also how the archduchess tried to contact her afterwards. She will grow into a much greater issue if you don't give her what she wants."

Margaret shook her head furiously, but instead of speaking out against her mother took hold of the seat that stood next to the cell and sat down, thinking of an answer.

"Is it the fate of a king to fear her subjects? How can they keep bowing until their backs ache but still force their king to do their bidding? Is this just because of me I wonder," Margaret said, sitting defeated on her small seat, her head hanging low.

A hand was reaching out to her through the iron bars, just on eye level as it entered the king's vision.

"This is the fate of every king. The one you see sitting before you and the one you see in the mirror," Anastasia said, now on the floor beyond the dungeon's iron bars.

She caught herself craving to give in and having her fingers slide on the prisoner's for the first time in ages. After some thought Margaret eventually accepted the offer and took her mother's hand.

"I can't ever remember seeing you fearing the archduchess though," Margaret said.

"Oh... I did. For quite some time. My knees were shaking after meeting her for the first time," Anastasia said and grinned softly which prompted her daughter to do the same.

"Now that is truly hard to believe," Margaret mused cautiously, still vary about her mother's caring behaviour. But she wanted to believe that this wasn't just an act. That this was truly one of the few times when kingmother... was just her mother, not also her king.

Anastasia's sharp cheek bones grew higher and she added.

"You can ask Euridike if you don't believe me. She was with me and just between us, even more terrified than I was. We were nothing more than children at the time when we first stood face to face with an already legendary figure. That was before the war," Anastasia said.

This might have been a light-hearted attempt to raise Margaret's spirits, but only granted her doubts more legitimacy to flourish.

"So, you say I have to give in... and accept Lucilla's hand just to avoid her mother's wrath?" Margaret asked.

"No, there are ways to tame the lioness. But I am afraid the price will be too great for you to pay. But nevertheless, this connection would be wise and certainly bring stability to the kingdom," Anastasia said after a few moments of thought.

"Yes... Mama said something similar. Yet I can't think of anything that would make me more miserable. Have you ever met her daughter? Lucilla, her second... legitimated daughter?" Margaret said.

"I have. But she is still the archduchess' daughter, regardless who her other mother was," Anastasia said.

Margaret shook her head again and grit her teeth with supressed anger.

"I am not talking about the circumstances of her birth; I am talking about the circumstances of her upbringing. Never ever have I seen a young woman this broken in my life. She was treated in a way no daughter should ever be treated by her mother and certainly not in front of the entire kingdom to see. I felt pity for her. How could I call someone mother who treats her own daughter like this?"

"You already are."

Margaret looked up, surprised to hear such words, despite hanging on to the foolish hope of ever hearing them.

"And yet you lend me your ear. So maybe you could also learn to love the daughter of a woman you have no feelings for," Anastasia said caringly.

"This is not just about mothers, but also about daughters," Margaret said and felt anxiety taking over and stop her words in her throat.

"You don't fancy her? Like we said, you can keep Alexia as your mistress. You don't have to live a life without love and passion just in order to be king," Anastasia said with a subtle smile on her face, but gravely misunderstood her daughter.

"No... I dread what it means to be raised a bastard. How a child would ever be able to feel genuine love by a mother that rejected her at birth. As a daughter and as heir," Margaret said.

Kingmother looked puzzled as even she with her sharp mind couldn't see where her daughter's argument was heading even after seconds of silence.

"I could never see myself doing something this horrific to any child, even if it would be to the benefit of a whole kingdom," Margaret said and took a deep breath before adding. "More importantly: I could never do that to my own child."

The green eyes of the former king lightened up, brighter and stronger than in the tensest and grimmest of battles. Her scar as well as her lips started to quiver on her hardened face while her mouth slowly opened, without drawing in another breath.

"You... or Alexia?" Anastasia muttered with wide eyes.

"Me... I am with her child. Your granddaughter," Margaret said with a shaking voice.

The same eery silence that always seemed to linger over the dungeon returned and took hold of both - king and prisoner alike.

Margaret's heart was pounding louder and louder as her mother's silence made her feel like a fool to reveal her pregnancy the way she did. She ought to apologize, for exploiting this moment of weakness of her mother, right after dealing with Sybilla.

"Can I touch it?" Anastasia spoke first.

"Pardon?" Margaret asked, pulled out of her thoughts and the apology she was conjuring up.

"Your stomach. Do you allow me to feel it?" Anastasia said again, while her voice grew weaker with every new word.

Margaret almost feared her mother's voice would die down if she was forced to usher another word, so she obliged.

She nodded and pushed her seat forward, so her mother could reach her belly easier and softly rested her hand on it.

"I am afraid it is way too early to feel anything, it's been just a few weeks since I know it myself," Margaret said and looked at her mother's face which grew sadder and happier in tandem.

"It doesn't matter. She is there. That's all I needed to know," Anastasia said and kept her hand on her daughter's stomach with all the care like she would be the one reaching out to her own child in her wife's womb.

Her mother kept surprising Margaret in ways she thought impossible.

Her battle-hardened hands were rough, unbelievably strong, yet while caressing Margaret's stomach as gentle and caring as anyone's could possibly ever be.

The woman that didn't flinch while murdering thousands of humans, a woman that was rightfully called the "Black death" by her adversaries and a woman that didn't shy away from kidnapping her own daughter, lost all that made her the unrelenting, brutal ruler she tried her hardest to be and turned her into a woman worthy to be called mother in that moment.

Margaret silently smiled at seeing her mother's eyes dart over the stomach like she was willing her granddaughter into existence with just her observative gaze. And gladly took in the silence as a continuation of a moment that truly deserved to be infinite.

"I... used to do that when Euridike was pregnant with you and Sybilla," Anastasia said without taking her eyes off her daughter's stomach. "Every day, since she told me the news. Also, when she was asleep. I would stay awake and rest my head on her growing stomach and listen to your and Sybilla's first sounds. Feel your first motions. There is no memory that I hold dearer."

Margaret was about to tear up, but like her sister and mother before her also couldn't stop herself from smiling wider and stronger than she could have imagined.

"You have never told me that story," Margaret muttered.

"I missed out on many things. With both of you," Anastasia whispered but eventually took her eyes off of Margaret's mid.

"By the goddess. I could have killed your daughter before you ever got to know her during our duel," Anastasia said and slowly pulled her hand back out of shame.

"You wouldn't have. I counted on you loving your granddaughter. And seeing you before me in this moment, I am proven right. If anything, I am to blame to have forced your hand," Margaret returned. "And now I am once more counting on you to help me, so she can grow up in a world she won't have to fear. Within these walls and beyond."

The prisoner's body tensed and stiffened itself once more into the rigid posture of a long-serving soldier as she willed herself back into her former role as king.

"Then you have to act quick... and take the archduchess' daughter's hand," Anastasia said sternly. "Or...give her something she craves as much as she craves power."

Margaret leaned forward on her seat and would have latched on to her mother if there weren't bars separating the two.

"Or what? Tell me!"

"Stability. The kind of stability she devoted her life to. And I am afraid, she only finds in me protecting our common interests... as king," Anastasia said.

There it was again, choosing between pest and cholera. Between being directly responsible for the upcoming blood bath or being the one who freed kingmother's blood-stained hands once more just to keep them around the human's throat for many more decades.

"You did not change your mind on... what you have told me last time?" Margaret asked, already knowing the answer.

"No. The only way our people can prevail is through decisive action. I understand that you can't force yourself to approve such acts of war, but I can bare the hate and the dead if that means your hands and your consciousness will remain untarnished."

The king's fingers were shaking with a mixture of anger and anxiety again. Anger over how a woman who showed nothing but compassion to her own family moments ago can now talk this emotionless about ordering the death of thousands of people once more. People who are also mothers and fathers, sons and daughters, each of them cherishing each moment they can share together, well knowing that their existence could be undone by the order of one woman that cared so little about their suffering.