Out of the Ashes Ch. 25

"Then you won't be able to help her," Anastasia said assertively, now with her head raised high. "How could you possibly be of any assistance? Tell me."

"I should be there for her! I just can't sit outside and... and..."

"You can and you will," Anastasia said resolutely.

"But... why?" Alexia asked, on the verge of tearing up and while still attempting to break free from her mother-in-law's grasp.

Anastasia slowly rose to her full towering height, her eyes never stopping their duel with Alexia's.

"Because you can endure it. Because you chose a life of sacrifices for yourself. And because you know it is right," Anastasia said with such conviction that Alexia's fury slowly faded away and turned into bewilderment.

"I don't understand. What did I choose? To let her suffer?!" Alexia shouted back.

"The life of a warrior, in word and deed," Anastasia said calmly, her eyes glimmering equally in passion and compassion. "We both chose that path, Alexia. You and me are living by the same code, honour the same rules and pay the price for such a life in hours like these."

Alexia's arm felt numb, her back stiff, her mouth dry. Too many thoughts lingered on her tongue just long enough to get a taste of each and vanished into nothingness before she could speak up. Anastasia took that burden up to herself as she saw Alexia's struggle.

"What is it we do? What is our oath? Tell me."

"To protect those who can't protect themselves," Alexia replied without hesitating.

Anastasia's chiselled face brightened up and her relentless iron hand seemed to soften as well.

"Exactly, Alexia. We protect. We stand between them and the darkness that lurks in this world, shield them from all harm and take it upon ourselves to fight for them with every bit of strength that was given to us," Anastasia said with a swelling, royal voice as she turned Alexia's hands around, revealing her palms.

"With our hearts and with our hands. These hands. Hands we willingly bathe in blood so theirs remain pure. Look at them," Anastasia demanded and Alexia, unable to even come up with thoughts of her own obliged. "These hands are covered with blood. Just like mine. We know it is there. Regardless of how often we wash them or whatever we do to forget that fact, it will always be there. And we know it. You know it."

The 10ft veteran slowly let go of Alexia's hand which kept shaking where she left them.

"What good can these hands do in an hour like this? Do you really think your daughter wants to be greeted by them? Do you think she would want to be born into a world that welcomes her with the stench of death? No, Alexia. This hour is not for people like us. But it us up to people like us to fight for moments like this to happen. It us up to us, to make sure their hands and souls are kept pure so they can do what we cannot and we keep enduring what they could not. That is our oath."

Alexia was crushed by the sheer might of her mother's words as every fibre of her body revolted in open disgust for her even attempting to walk in. With her detestable hands, hands she covered in more than just the blood of her enemies, but of her sisters in arms.

Beth's sword around her waist suddenly felt a ton heavier, almost like it wanted to remind her of the unsurmountable weight of her debt. She awoke each day feeling like she needed no further reminder of that eternal burden when she strapped on that sword, but wouldn't Anastasia stopped her she would have done the impossible. The unforgivable: Pretend to be a woman she wasn't. A woman not reeking of death and a woman who didn't swear the holiest of oaths. How repulsive and ignorant of a person could one be to pretend to be such a woman? How could one pretend to be pure when she was this repugnant?

"You are right," Alexia muttered, her hands still held before her chest, her eyes transfixed on them. "I am sorry I did not realise it myself."

Anastasia took another mighty step closer, earning a visible shiver from Alexia who expected a passionate lecture on what it means to be a warrior. She deserved nothing less than that. But instead, she was only greeted with warmth; like she could from now on expect from her new family.

The former king rested her mighty hand on her queen's shoulder, her muscles audibly stretching and tensing as she extended her arm, even under her armour.

"There is nothing to apologize for, Alexia. You know why? Because you understand and you are willing to learn. I know you will," Anastasia said, with pride in her royal voice.

Alexia looked up to the hulking warrior, as the speck she was, in stature and in wisdom. But she felt not disheartened by that realisation. If anything, it was uplifting to stand in the presence of such greatness, get inspired by it and thrive to hopefully become someone greater. Just like her. Anastasia the Great.

"Thank you... I will learn. I promise," Alexia said.

A delightful smile washed over Anastasia's face. One so genuine, that Alexia's chest swelled with pride knowing she earned the respect of someone this illustrious and virtuous. Anastasia didn't have to say anything, her maternal pride was enough to revel in and steel Alexia's will.

When another scream thundered past her and into the hallway her blood-stained hands stopped shaking and clenched into a fist.

"May I ask you something, Anastasia?" she asked.

"Anything."

"What gods did you pray to? The one goddess? Or was there someone specific?" Alexia said and looked up, her silver eyes burning with iron resolve.

"To all of them," Anastasia said with a widening grin. "Just to be sure."

Waves of Margaret's agonizing screams crashed down onto the three warriors, withstanding each hit in silence as they prayed to their pantheon of gods. Their eyes remained closed, their palms offered to the divine and their determination unwavering like the white cliffs their palace was built upon.

They endured the distress in Euridike's and Sophia's voice as well as the chilling silence that turned even more terrifying the stronger its stranglehold grew. Alexia's unspoken plea rose through the anxiety and suffering infesting the entire hallway towards the skies. Someone had to listen to her first prayer in years. By the gods, someone must be listening. Someone simply had to.

The three warriors shielded their thoughts from all doubts chipping away from their armours, but one sound pierced right through their raised walls and hit them right in their hearts.

A cry of an angel shattering all the anxiety and horror that consumed the royal family. The voice rose to a warcry roared into the coldness of a new world with all the might her young lungs could muster. In all its purity and its ferocity, the voice managed to lift all three warriors from their bench and break all the composure they enforced on themselves in their suffering.

"By the gods! That is... that's... my daughter!" Alexia muttered before her vocal cords swelled to match her daughter's first bombastic call.

"Your daughter!" Sybilla joined in immediately, muffling Alexia's wordless cry with her massive shoulders and pumped pecs.

"You are a mother, Lexi! A mother!" the princess kept on cheering as she pushed her sister into her tight embrace. "Congratulations, sister! By the gods! Congratulations!"

Alexia's cry was reduced to nothing but a whimper as her new sister kept hold of her and matched her explosive euphoria. Only Anastasia kept her composure, although her seasoned face was also beaming with emotions she barely managed to control.

Her daughter's hearty screams kept on transforming into a symphony Alexia could not get enough of. Every new note, every soft mumble from either Sophia and Euridike, every new second of this magical moment made her melt more into Sybilla's arms and release her pent-up emotions. Until another, mechanical noise stuck out from an ocean of familiarity.

The door swung open and Alexia, for the first time in her life, managed to overpower Sybilla and lunge forward to the grey-haired physician that stood in the doorframe. Only Anastasia's feet and tongue were faster than hers.

"Is she alright?" she asked, as their combined gazes one by one found the unmissable bloodstain soaked into Sophia's white garment.

The long-serving doctor's hands were clean, but now that Alexia managed to focus on anything but her joy, she spotted the grim expression on Sophia's exhausted face.

"She is now," Sophia said in her soothing, melodic voice. "There were complications. Someone lesser than her would not have made it."

"But she will make it?!" Alexia interrupted, her eyes wide and demanding.

Sophia's stoic face turned away from Anastasia who must have asked the same question even without opening her mouth. She nodded and as she wiped her sweat from her forehand her wrinkles formed into a cautious, but nevertheless warm grin.

"She will make it, my queen. Both will. But the king is very weak," Sophia said.

That was enough for Alexia. The assurance that the light of her life didn't go out as it gave birth to another flame. By the gods, she wanted both to warm her for the rest of life. She could not even imagine a world without Margaret... and their daughter, despite the fact she had yet to see her with her own eyes.

"Can I... I mean... should I visit her?" Alexia asked cautiously.

"You can. And you should, my queen. Your wife yearns for your company," the royal physician said and stepped aside, the door to heaven wide open behind her.

Alexia slowly stumbled forward and made it for a moment seem that her muscular legs were walking on brittle glass. The queen's fever had returned with her all-consuming anticipation. By the time she stood next to Anastasia her cheeks were glowing red and bright -- almost as bright as her mother-in-law's proud eyes.

"Thank you," Alexia said softly and stopped mere inches from the 10ft behemoth that far surpassed everyone in the room. "For stopping me."

Anastasia smirked and for the fracture of a second even her chiselled cheeks and chin seemed to quiver ever so slightly.

"Thank you for listening," Anastasia returned motherly and after some seconds of just silently staring into the eyes of her fellow blade sister nodded at Alexia's hips.

The queen frowned and immediately noticed what her mentor was staring at with an expression of cautious wariness.

Her green eyes zeroed in on the blade that was hanging from the queen's waist. Alexia realised the unspoken question looming over them, but thankfully this time she had an answer befitting of a follower of their code.

"Do not worry. This sword has yet to taste blood, unlike the hands that now wield it. While I am no longer able to cleanse myself from the stench of death, this sword shall remain pure. As a symbol of duty and as a means to protect, nothing more."

The former king nodded slowly and reached out to Alexia's face in motherly admiration.

"That is indeed pure," Anastasia said and gently laid her iron hand at her daughter's cheek. "Don't let your family wait, my child. Cherish this moment, for it is the most important in your life."

"Thank you... mother," Alexia said with a knot slowly tightening in her throat.

A knot that only turned more suffocating when Anastasia pulled her into her embrace.

"Don't cry, Alexia. Spare your tears for when you see your daughter and wife," she whispered into Alexia's ear while her hands seemingly freed themselves from her iron gauntlets and turned into silk as they gently caressed the queen's back.

Alexia could only nod in agreement, then if she even attempted to open her mouth she would be bursting into tears of happiness.

Under the warm, emerald eyes of her new mother Alexia walked past Sophia who also shed her naturally stoic composure and smiled back at the emotional queen.

The raven warrior waited one more second at the doorstep and took a deep breath before she entered - while also feverishly wiping both her hands on her royal uniform. Just to be sure.

The room reeked of blood and sweat; a scent Alexia knew vividly. For it was one that burnt itself into Alexia's memory at the day Cassandra entered Manuel's inn. Thankfully this time she didn't find herself in a battle that came to her home, but among the comfort of laundered sheets, wide-open curtains and their growing, save and most importantly, healthy family.

Euridike sat next to Margaret's bed. The sheets must have been changed already because they looked almost as pristine as the weakened woman they warmed. A heap of towels laid behind queenmother's chair, just like the gloves that she and Sophia both must have worn. She and Margaret were leaned over another bunch of towels which wrapped the treasure both guarded with undivided attention.

Alexia paused for second and just watched her wife and mother as they softly whispered to each other, their eyes bridling with nothing but love.

Only when a tiny hand emerged from the embrace of white fabric around it and only when Margaret and Euridike both gasped in proud admiration, Alexia took a step forward and introduced herself to them.

"Alexia," Euridike gasped and got up faster and quieter as one would have expected from a woman of her proportions.

The former queen danced over the green carpet that lingered the entire guestroom without making a single sound and greeted her daughter-in-law equally as noiselessly.

"Finally, you are here," queenmother said softly and returned the hug that Alexia instinctively offered to her.

"Sophia said there were complications, sorry I did not come earlier, but ... I could enter," Alexia whispered.

Euridike grinned and pulled her daughter even closer into her curvaceous figure.

"I understand. Believe me, I understand," she said without raising her voice. "And so does Margaret. Don't worry, it is alright. Come, take a look. You have to see this."

Euridike pulled Alexia by her hand and slowly led the queen to her king's bed. Maggie's pale face was still hanging low, her azure eyes focused on only one thing. The one that mattered most in life.

With each step she took, more of their daughter came into Alexia's view. At first there was just her tiny fingers which softly embraced her mother's. Her entire hand was barely enough to fully engulf Maggie's thumb, but that did not stop her. Then there was the outline of her head. The bald head and the puffy cheeks that only got fuller and healthier the closer Alexia got... until she saw her daughter and wife in all their beauty.

"Lexi," Margaret said weakly and looked up.

Her face told a story in itself. Of the desperate battle she fought, the unwavering will to hold on to the last bit of strength she could rally and the relief once she struck the sweetest of victories.

"I got someone I want to introduce to you," the ghastly pale king whispered and gazed back at the princess.

Immediately her drained face regained some of her natural colour and then there were her eyes. Never had Alexia seen such a gaze. The way Margaret's already perfect lips and eyes morphed even more divine after just proudly looking at their daughter... Alexia found no words to describe it. Almost. There was only one and she did not come up with herself. It had to come from the strongest and one of the wisest of their people, a woman who learnt when to step aside and when to allow yourself to experience something so pure. Pure, that was the word she found at last.

Alexia kneeled down next to Maggie's bed. Her motions were fluid, but slow in order not to scare their daughter the first time they met. She carefully lifted her sword out the way and made sure it wouldn't rattle as its sheath sank into the carpet.

The little angel slowly turned her head away from Margaret and looked back at the new visitor who walked into her young life. Her stunningly blue eyes wandered curiously over the raven-haired queen and took notice of every little detail. She might have been merely a few minutes old, but Alexia felt the wisdom of a philosopher and the strength of a warrior when she was engulfed in her daughter's presence.

Never had anyone ever looked this beautiful before. Would there be any depictions of the goddess, the allmother herself, not even they would have come close to being this divine. Not a single master in the entire kingdom could have brought such perfection onto paper or chisel it into marble and do it justice.

The tiny fingers reached out to her like they did to Margaret just moments earlier, almost like she already realised who stood before her. Alexia, who grit her teeth and bit her lips to keep them shut, silently held her fingers inches before her daughter and awaited her touch.

Her daughter's touch turned that last resolve to remain calm into dust. Tears were dripping down her cheeks in droves when she softly embraced the angel's warmth. The heat emitting from her spread through Alexia, reached every last corner of her sculptured body and made it feel weak and fragile. But she did not mind trading in her strength. Not if she was allowed to experience such divine bliss.

"Don't you want to say something?" Maggie asked with a soft smile, but Alexia was unable to speak up.

She kept crying and let that tiny hand explore her massive hand. Let them slide over her palm and watched the tiny face brighten up with every new moment.

"H-hello," Alexia began, before stopping and almost choking her tears. "I am your ... mama. My little angel."

Margaret, still broken and defeated, barely able to lift her hand, grabbed Alexia's shoulder and from there reached out to stroke her wife's cheeks.

"We did a good job on our daughter. Didn't we?"

"You did. All I did was wait outside," Alexia whimpered back.

"That is not true. We would not be here without you," Margaret insisted with her final ounce of strength lifted their daughter up and presented her to her wife.

Her hands were shaking as she held the little angel above the sheets and prompted Alexia to rush to her help immediately.

"Careful, watch her head," Margaret groaned, bordering on total exhaustion.

Alexia's thick forearms slid under their daughter and for the first time did she actively feel her heart skip a beat. Their little angel looked up to her when she found herself in the arms of someone who was not built like Margaret or Euridike was. Someone who was hard and strong, someone who reeked of death. For a moment there was this fear their daughter could sense the blood that was sticking to Alexia's hands, but even if she did, she did not mind. Her little mouth opened to a happy gasp that turned into a hearty smile. Alexia could do nothing but smile back, despite crying more than she ever did in her life.

"She is beautiful, so beautiful," Alexia muttered, just loud enough Maggie could hear her too.

"She is," Margaret whispered softly and laid her hand into their wife's. "Our daughter will need a name. A beautiful one," Margaret said.

"I hoped you would have decided one by now," Alexia replied.

"I want you to give our daughter her name."

Alexia's eyes flared and wouldn't she be holding their daughter she would have surely thrown them back in a wide and angry gesture.

"No! You should choose, Maggie. You did all th-"

"I insist, Lexi," Margaret said weakly but assertively. Only after a few deep breaths she regained the ability to talk. "You earned it. Don't make me argue with you."

The queen wanted to object further, but she could not bring herself to do it. Not when she was fulfilled with such pride and such gratitude. She swallowed her anger and for once allowed herself to believe that she indeed was deserving of such an honour. Who was she to argue against her wife's wisdom anyway?

Her grey eyes travelled back to their daughter who seemingly understood every word they said and looked like she awaited her name to be revealed. Alexia, unable to remember even a single word on her list, stared back at her daughter's curious gaze and hoped she would find inspiration there -- at the source of divine beauty.