Out of the Ashes Ch. 26 - Epilogue

Epilogue & final fates

(6,4k words, futa, world building, character chapter, romance, sadness, wholesomeness, conclusion)

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A soft ocean breeze ruffled through Margaret's hair, her royal gown dancing in the wind as she took in the scenery. Her nostrils flared and she let out a content sigh while simply savouring the familiar scents invading her. She had looked forward to this, ever since the day she left. At her farewell more than two years ago she swore to stop the cold burning war that kept ripping the kingdom apart. Today, she returned and at last fulfilled that promise. But neither did she or the crowd at that time believe she would do so ahead of an army. An army that would not bring destruction and death, but beauty and prosperity.

"Halt," said Margaret softly.

Her voice didn't raise louder than a whisper and was not meant to address the massive retinue she was leading. Alexia's did though.

The queen raised her muscle-bound arm and with a clenched fist ordered the hundreds of followers to stop as one, before the heralds repeated her command until the stream of people and heavy equipment came to a standstill. They were leading of what must have looked like an endless horde. Still, were they not greeted with fear.

"Here we are, Lexi. Where it all began," Margaret said and grinned at the ocean of people gazing back at her.

"It feels like ages ago, doesn't it?" Lexi asked amidst the thunderous ringing of every single belltower in the town heralding their arrival.

"Yes. Almost like a life ago."

The market square, even from a distance, looked livelier than she remembered it. The crowd certainly was bigger than the one Manuel silenced and made listen to her. Also, the stands were filled with exotic spices and a myriad of goods, ranging from fine artisanship to every treasure the sea could provide. She could tell that even from a distance. Not only her people seemed interested in leaving a good first impression at their first proper reunion in decades, but so did the humans.

They came a long way already, Margaret thought. Not too long ago both sides would have only met each other with fire and steel in their hands, not with gifts and goodwill. The king smiled at seeing the human envoys slowly emerging from the depths of the never-ending crowd. Among them were also the familiar faces of friends. Agatha, Martin, Ricky and one of the driving forces behind this historic reunion. Manuel. Alexia and Margaret could not stop herself from smiling when they saw him leading the line.

Suddenly heavy armour thundered behind king and queen, coming from an army that froze on their behalf. All but one. A warrior, concealed by a new armour and helmet, but unmistakable in her stature and might, stepped forward and bowed.

"My king and queen," she said loud enough so the others could hear her, but the following words were only directed at her daughters. "I must ask you, if you want to go through with your plan. No king should take such a risk. And neither should her queen."

Margaret smiled and sensed not an ounce of the fear that consumed her mother. She looked up to the blue sky and once more bathed in the refreshing cold breath of the sea.

"Risk you say, mother?" she said and grabbed Alexia's hand for everyone to see. "I am in save hands. Always have been and always will be."

The queen's silver eyes shone brighter than her medals and the regalia both were carrying.

"It is not wise for a king to go without her guards," Anastasia insisted.

They had this conversation many times over the last few weeks. And like every time before they could not find common soil to stand on. Yet, that was not what surprised the king the most. It was the constantly manifesting dread she saw growing on her mother's face. On a woman who would rather fight an entire army with her bare hands than allowing her courage to waver. What a delight it was to know that for the first time she was for once standing tall when her mother was trembling with worry, Margaret thought.

"Is it wise to assume that everyone holds daggers behind their backs? Or might they just be offering their hands in friendship? Should we return such hospitality from behind armours and guns? No, this a day of trust. Mutual trust. The royal guard will remain on their posts outside the town," Margaret said assertively.

She could feel her mother's cold stare. The narrow eye slits of her helmet barely revealed more than parts her green eyes, but Margaret still knew how her mother grimaced. The type of distorted face on which the veins on her forehead throbbed and her cheekbones seem to grow sharper as she clenched her teeth. Margaret knew that face well, but she no longer feared it, not when it was made in good intention after all.

"I will take care of her," Alexia interjected and broke Anastasia's begging gaze. "You have my word. Nothing will happen to her. I won't allow it."

Margaret, despite standing over a foot taller, felt like she had to look up to her wife. A gaze she earned every day since their marriage and would keep earning for the rest of their days.

The former king stood silent like a statue, but like it was often the case nowadays, Alexia's word held immense weight for the legendary warrior. With each day their bond seemed to strengthen, their mutual respect reaching deeper, despite Alexia needing Anastasia's mentoring less and less by the hour. Margaret was convinced that was one of the many reasons for it.

"Aye. That is enough," Anastasia eventually said and bowed. "I will wait."

"Thank you... mother," Margaret returned, trying to finish this conversation on a warm, informal note, despite being king.

The second in command of the royal guard returned to her sisters in arms and took her side next to her commander.

Margaret let out a soft sigh and knew that the final hurdle for this historic day was taken - with surprise ease at that. She did not worry about the thousands of humans travelling by boat or on horseback to be part of today's festivities, but the sole woman that could reignite deep rooted hatred just with her presence.

Swords and cannons followed her mother too long to ever see her as someone else than a harbinger of death. "The black death", as the humans called her. She could not enter, not when peace was only in his infancy and needed safe hands to prosper. Hands Margaret and Alexia were willing to offer ... as well as the crowd welcoming them.

"We are ready now," Alexia said and tightened her grip around her wife's hand.

"Aye. We are. At last, we all are," Margaret whispered and kissed her wife one last time before solely focusing on the journey ahead.

A journey into an ocean of friends and warmth, accompanied with the smells of ingenuity and hard work, despite a scenery that still wore the scars of wars long gone by. This was their holy duty, Margaret reminded herself and lifted the human's sceptre just like her queen lifted the royal insignia of their own people. To close this dark chapter once and for all and set the seed for an age in which the laughter of children would echo louder than the drums of war. An age in which ember and decay would be replaced by marble and silk. An age of brother and sister coming together as one. And history shall remember that this age started on that day.

The journey of a lifetime

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Margaret and Alexia immediately took up the quill to write this new chapter for their kingdom, but it proved to be a rocky road ahead. King and queen had to appease two people who longed for different futures to be built. While the royal family brimmed with enthusiasm and diligence, satisfying brother and daughter at the same time turned out to be a dance on razorblades. Strangely enough Margaret fared much better with the human faction at first. Their efforts in rebuilding the neglected harbour towns in the kingdom slowly allowed cautious optimism to spread beyond those who walked the king's path with her. While the humans were slowly swayed by seeing their king and queen literally rolling up their sleeves and getting to work as one of their own, the hermaphrodite aristocracy was much harder to please. Many held on to Anastasia's reforms and kept sharing her ideals, the good and the bad. Margaret had to give in to the nobilities' pressure on multiple occasions, but managed to turn most defeats into hidden victories. More than some of those were orchestrated with the help of Euridike and Anastasia who still played the game of crowns better than anyone else. Especially in those early years of their daughter's reign when they mentored both in their respective fields.

Margaret and Alexia passed more legislation in the first few years of their reign than any other king in history and some of it came with major controversy. Like the reinstatement of a shared parliament and in particular the decree to ban the distribution of all gunpowder and heavy weaponry to humans. A topic the old nobility, that still followed Anastasia's views, was more than adamant about -- regardless of the human outcry. Still, when Margaret issued that all humans were granted tax exemptions for all military spending and trade privileges in their coastal towns much was forgiven. That in consequence made the hermaphrodite nobles demand equal terms, which were only granted to families where both mothers gave birth to their children -- chipping away of the unspoken obsession with dominance. This law in particular proved to be the building stone to a sustainable future for her own people, which would slowly grow into a society that wasn't as prone to discrimination like Margaret once endured.

The political landscape would always remain a battlefield hard to navigate, with a never-ending tug of war between everyone involved. But, with the help of their mothers, Alexia and especially Margaret steadily learnt to thrive in such a hostile and unforgiving environment until they themselves became masters. Thankfully their days were not solely filled with talking to split tongues and administration. They always made sure to find time for family and foster the bonds they have woven with their friends. Margaret and Alexia would often visit their former temporary home, even after its renovations were finished. And also, after it was under new management.

Manuel eventually came to terms with his position as mayor and also kept a close tie with the people he once served as council member. The fact that he was ousted from the militia barely changed anything, now that his path was proven right and just. Having such responsibilities on his shoulders in his final years of his life was something he certainly not wished for himself, but nevertheless became a duty he fully devoted himself. So much so, that he handed his renewed tavern, which from now on wore the name "The Princess' mug", over to one of the most loyal souls in his life and one who would take after the inn with the same care he once did: Agatha.

Life in the palace had also sailed into steadier waters. The laughing of little Beth brought back innocence into halls that once reeked of intrigue. Laughter which Anastasia and Euridike were even more bewitched by than their king and queen. Margaret and Alexia often laid next to each other whispering about how beautiful life had turned out and how they loved every second of it. Still, they felt like raising their voice just a little louder would shatter that delightful dream of theirs. Their cautious whisper posed no threat to their delightful life though, quite the opposite.

Their lustful screams and moans regularly thundered through the marble halls of their palace. Especially after Margaret made true on her promise to bulk up, which did wonders to their already amazing sex life. She would never manage to look as hardened and muscular as her wife, but on an almost 10ft giantess with plentiful curves in all the right places, her efforts were certainly respectable. Alexia, who was the one dealing with the most hung and notoriously insatiable woman in the kingdom, accepted the challenge every single night. Until another voice would soon travel through their home and fill it with even more childish laughter.

Only 3 years after Elisabeth's birth another princess was born into the kingdom of her mother. Like last time Alexia waited outside with Sybilla and Anastasia and once again their prayers would be heard. And just like last time, her name was once more revealed in the moment she was introduced to her family. The second her little fingers reached out to Anastasia's grey hair it was settled. She would wear the name of her grandmother -- the biggest of all legends.

Sadly, the gods did not look down kindly on Anastasia from that moment onwards.

The former highking remained focused on her role as protector and as grandmother. She ignored the constant cough she had for many weeks, even when it turned audibly disturbing.

'I am dealing with this, do not worry' she kept saying, until she was no longer able to hide the grim reality. One day, amidst family dinner, the undefeated warrior coughed until her face turned white and a red foam oozed from between her fingers. She was carried to the royal physician, but she could not offer any diagnosis the former king did not already know: Lung cancer. Anastasia had kept her illness a secret and made Sophia swear to do the same. The entire royal family was devastated, but nothing matched Elisabeth's sadness on that day. Even the brutal realisation that Anastasia would probably not live to see another summer. Probably.

Anastasia entered her final battle with her head held high and fought like a beast possessed. While Sophia and other physicians all over the kingdom gave her merely a handful of months, she kept on fighting for another 3 years. Margaret was certain that only the daily visits of her family kept her going. One could see that these hours in particular gave her strength. Even more so when she was confined to her bed, unable to enjoy life in the way she was used to: on the front foot and head on. Anastasia did not allow herself to be disheartened though. She offered her help to Margaret and Alexia where she possibly could and played with little Beth and young Ana as much as her drained body allowed.

But, even her, Anastasia the Great, could not win the battle against death. On one particularly rainy autumn day, minutes after her final goodbye to her family, the 41st highking took her last desperate breath. In her death she had once more proven how much she divided the kingdom. While her own people came together and mourned as one, the other half of the kingdom cheered and celebrated. The black death was gone. Anastasia the Great was gone.

Countless veterans and comrades came together at her funeral, many of which were already in the final stages of their lives. Regardless of their own health, they insisted to carry the coffin of the woman with who they fought side by side. Archduchess Theresa was one of them. Her frail body should not have allowed for her to partake in the ceremony, but she was one of those seasoned hands that escorted Anastasia to her final resting place: The crypts of the north, where all highkings and their queens of old were buried. Mere miles away from the town where Anastasia was born. It was the biggest funeral the kingdom would ever see. Her coffin was engraved with the insignia of her house, the winged bear and when she was lowered into the crypt an orchestra of cannons along a requiem out of thousands upon thousands of throats accompanied her. The ceremony lasted for weeks and turned the temple and the nearby town into an ocean of flowers and gifts. Almost every single hermaphrodite in the realm undertook that final journey to honour the mightiest and wisest of their own.

And their efforts did not stop there. Masters from all corners of the kingdom answered Theresa's call for one final project to honour Anastasia: A 50 feet high statue which towered above the town walls she was once born in. She was immortalised in pure marble, her helmet tucked under her shoulder and donning her legendary armour. Her right hand was raised and held over everyone who would walk below her. As her people's biggest protector. That was the woman she would be remembered as. The woman who pushed the boundaries of what could be achieved in one lifetime and the woman who redefined what it meant to be virtuous. While her name would always be remembered as their people's greatest hero, her family would remember her for who she truly hoped to be remembered as: A caring mother and even more loving grandmother. One who wished her heart to be buried under the tree her children loved to play most. And so would their children.

As the kingdom mourned, the family she left behind had to somehow come to terms with her death. Alexia and Margaret always had their daughters to fall back to, but Sybilla, who remained unmarried and in particular Euridike struggled immensely. The later was more often seen in the nearby chapels and praying with priests than in the throne room. Nevertheless, she remained on the king's side as her most experienced advisor, whenever she could muster the strength to deal with such mundane business. Sybilla on the other hand turned her sorrow into endless energy, like she always use to. She spent day and night polishing her already perfect technique and honing her skills as a warrior. Only when she began feverishly pursuing the hobby, she was most passionate about as a child she stopped walking on a path of inevitable self-destruction. Sailing.

Losing Anastasia was a massive blow to her loved ones, but a somehow harder one to the kingdom. Even on her sickbed Anastasia's presence guaranteed the support of the nobles that would have opposed Margaret's reign. Now that she was gone, their voices began to grow louder in the shadows and at times even met the king's ears. Margaret's efforts to soothe the growing discontent, especially in regards of how she treated humans, eventually failed and culminated in a net of intrigue carefully spun around the throne. The shadows lurking in the darkness came to life for one final plot to depose Margaret and replace her with someone who honoured the old ways like Anastasia did: Sybilla.

Would she have shown any ambition to claim the throne she would have undoubtedly succeeded, so intricately wept was this plan. The only one who could have stopped it was Sybilla herself, who the conspirators begged for support. To the king's surprise did the Archduchess and her daughter not partake in the complot and kept up their oaths for the rest of their lives. Little did the plotters knew that the two sisters that looked at odds of another for much of their lives, grew closer than they could have possibly fathomed. Especially after Anastasia's death. They entered the palace under the pretence of the princess' and the royal guard's support, but only met Alexia's and Sybilla's blades, surrounded by their sisters in arms.

It was the darkest hour in Margaret's reign when she had to watch the remaining conspirators stand trial and one after the other getting put to the sword by Alexia herself. That day also marked the last day of Sybilla as princess.

She explained she wanted to turn another page on her life, not as a member of the royal family, but a story of her own. As the literal manifestation of Anastasia, in appearance and spirit, she would always remain in her shadow she said. The plot she prevented was only the last assurance she needed. At least that was what she told them, but everyone was aware how much Sybilla had changed with kingmother's death and craved a new beginning.

So, she set sail to new shores. Literally. The princess' last decree was to arrange an expedition into the west, beyond the unexplored passage. Many seasoned sailors, hermaphrodites and also a few humans answered her call. But the only one she truly wished at her side was Lucilla, who of course only joined because she swore to "protect" her former princess and uphold her duties as guard. Their "forbidden" relationship must have been the worst kept secret in the entire palace though.