- Prologue -
Once upon a time, in a Kingdom of grand elegance and stature, there lived a humble and tired King. The King came into his power when he was no older than twenty summers and not a bone in his body ready to rule over a small country. Spoiled by his mother and neglected by his father, he nay listened to his advisors and skipped Council in favor of cheap prostitutes and expensive wine. He was a brat that had few friends and many enemies that stayed close to him, looking for favor and recognition and land and power vicariously.
Vengerberg was rich and mighty and he had no cares in the world asides his own pleasure. It was glorious, entwining him with the power of gods, mighty and all-consuming.
And then his mother left in the dead of night to parts unknown and his father's leniency towards the both of them had run short. He was violent and did not take no for an answer, and the soon-to-be King dreamt of his father killing his mother in the night and burying it with his childhood.
He still did not learn about politics because of the fear gripping his heart, and then his father was dead and his coronation passed over his head before he could understand its meaning and he felt so much older in his bones that he thought his own heart would fail him and send him to an early grave. He would be reunited with his mother at last.
But death never came, and a peasant girl he had a tryst with once upon a time came to him with her belly full of life and the future. They were wed and he sunk into his work, keeping snake Councilmen away from his aching back and buoying Vengerberg as well as he could. Trade decreased and the King dressed as poorly as the servants did. The Kingdom was falling and he had a beautiful daughter with thick hair and lilac eyes but it did not stop his greying hairs or the creaks in his bones.
The peasant girl turned Queen passed in the night, her body weak and small.
He traded a loyal wife for a distant daughter that he had no time for, who grew up with finery when the Kingdom knew none, when her father was stuck at his desk into the late hours of the night because he wanted to give her the best life possible, and did not see between the creases that history was rewriting itself until he saw his sweet Yennefer in court, a bard at her beck and call and men grasping at her arms and legs and her hands full of sweet grapes and aged wine.
And in that moment he saw himself and saw the ruin that would become of her when he passed and she was stuck with a dying Kingdom on her shoulders. She would be spoiled and power-hungry and she would drive herself into the ground, wishing that she could reverse time and make it right again.
His eyes grew weary and heart weak.
He met with his daughter's advisor – the one she neglected almost daily in pursuit of physical luxuries – and together they signed a contract and marked it for the day of his death. He would condemn his daughter – his free, wild, sweet Yennefer – to pain in order to save the Kingdom he loved. It would be a worthy cause, he commended himself.
And when the years passed and Yennefer was just passed twenty-fours summers old, and he lay dying on his death bed from worry and anxiety, she wept a tear for the father that never was. Tears were pouring down his own cheeks, but he knew she would not feel his loss with the crown heavy upon her head. He passed peacefully and all that was left was Yennefer of Vengerberg.
Yennefer paced the length of her study, and then back again. They would not let her see her father as his life passed from his body – he had become violent and neurotic in his final moments, and once the healers had sedated him they had told her he would not be waking again. There was no need for her to be there as they prepared his body for the funeral.
She said her final goodbyes and then left, running off to her study and shutting the door behind her. She blinked her eyes and then shuffled through the papers littering her desk. She paced, biting her nails and digging into her lip.
She felt conflicted and nervous. This was the moment she was waiting for, was it not? She would be Queen, rule a Kingdom and with it hold its power and wealth. Live in luxury and finery all her life, making Vengerberg great again, as her grandfather once did. She was one step closer and yet her stomach roiled uncomfortably. She had all of the contracts prepared. She would just need Avallac'h to sign in place of her father and she would…
She stood in front of her desk, biting her lip. A set of footsteps alerted her to another's presence, and there before her stood her advisor Avallac'h. Confidant to the King and now to his daughter.
"Well?" she asked.
"Well?" He replied, "Your father's funeral will be held tomorrow at sundown."
"Ah," she began pacing again. She stopped, and then started again. She might have been confident and rebellious, but she would not disrespect her father's death with asking Avallac'h for his signature.
"If you are worried about your coronation…" he knew her too well and she hated it a little bit, "You need not fear. It will probably not happen for a few months yet, giving you plenty of time to prepare a speech," she could hear the sarcasm dripping from his words.
She glared at him, "Isn't that a bit too late? It should be sooner, 'else the Council become blood-hungry and try to steal the throne as their own," she almost hissed.
"Oh, so you did pay attention to some of my lessons. That is always good to hear," Avallac'h smirked, "And like I said, you need not worry. The Coronation will not happen for a few months, at least."
Yennefer was nothing if not impatient. She crossed her arms and stared at the elf before her, trying to reign in her temper. It would not do for Vengerberg's new Queen to murder in cold blood, "And why must it take so long? I have the papers prepared, all you need to do is –"
Avallac'h pulled out his own piece of vellum, handing it to her. She took it slowly, unrolled, and stared at her father's neat cursive. Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head once she had finished the letter, or missive, or whatever the hell it was. Now she was ready to send Avallac'h to his next plane of existence and she was hopeful that it would not be pleasant.
"What is the meaning of this? You cannot be serious!" She cried, sounding like the petulant child Avallac'h knew her to be.
"I know you can read, Yennefer, so you know exactly what it means. You are to be wed before you take the throne, as per your father's instructions," he frowned thoughtfully, "And don't try to go destroying the paper either, if you already have some half-cooked plot stewing in that thick skull of yours. The missive has already been sent to the Councilmen, so unless you want a coup on your hands for undermining his late Majesty's word, I would advise against it."
"Oh, shut up," she crumped the piece of parchment in her hand, "Why? Why must I wed to become Queen, of all things? That is the most idiotic rule I have ever heard in my life."
Avallac'h advanced on her hunched form slowly, eyes cool and calm and it chilled her bones, "Do you know the purpose of taxes, Yennefer? Do you know how they are collected and distributed? Or perhaps, do you know how to run a Council meeting, what should be discussed and what is considered superfluous?" She flapped her mouth uselessly, her cheeks coloring a muddy red, "Exactly. We cannot have a Queen ruling on the throne who does not know how to rule a Kingdom."
"But that's why I have you, is it not? Why do I need a bloody husband?"
"It would look horrible if I whispered in your ear every time you needed help with something! Do you not remember how nobility gossip? I would have my head hung for manipulating the new Queen of the Kingdom. A King is a much more legitimate head of government," Avallac'h replied, voice knowledgeable but also undeniably impudent.
Yennefer felt the rage bubbling inside her gut, and slammed her fist down against her desk. It made a resounding thump in the sudden quiet of the room.
"Then why do you not marry me? We would make a great team," her voice was light but her shoulders were still hunched in anger and defeat. Avallac'h almost smirked, but he did not want to be disemboweled.
"Thank you for such a kind offer, but I must refuse," he mockingly bowed, "Now, if you are done with your temper tantrum, there are some options for you," her piercing violet gaze met his own eyes. Even he had to admit, Yennefer was a sight to behold in her anger, "I could, of course, pick for you who I think would be the best suitable candidate for your marriage, out of the available princes or widowed Kings from the other Kingdoms. Or, you could yourself find someone who you would prefer to rule with you – of nobility, mind you. We don't need another dunce ruling this Kingdom alongside you."
Yennefer crossed her arms again. She needed a long smoke and some wine to sort out the muddled mess in her head. As soon as Avallac'h would be done talking to her, she would escape through the castle and find the nearest pub to wallow in.
"And what if I find someone I like that is a peasant?" She cringed at her own words. She knew that would never be an option, she had standards of course, but she felt the walls of her life closing in on her and defiance was the best thing she had to win some control.
Avallac'h chuckled, "Even though we both know that won't happen, then take him as a consort if you must. No one said you must care for your husband."
Her shoulders drooped slightly. Perhaps she was promiscuous and preferred pretty faces over depth and personality, but if she did have to marry she would prefer it to be for love. But if she had to choose between ruling her Kingdom, making it wide and wonderful and powerful under her omnipotent gaze, and marrying a man she loved, she would choose her Kingdom. She was more her father than she would ever understand.
"I will choose my own husband."
"Perfect. I will send out a letter to all Kingdoms with available bachelors, and they can visit you here to court you and win your hand. And before you go sulking to the pub," Yennefer blinked up at him, eyes owlish at already being caught before even leaving her study. Avallac'h smiled sardonically, "Do remember that you are still interment head of government, so maybe read a book or two on your way out."
He left with a flourished bow, and before Yennefer 'accidently' rung a knight's neck, she pulled a thick, wool cape over her shoulders and made to exit the castle through one of the hidden passageways she so loved. Sneaking was one of her specialties and she used it to her full ability to get as much alcohol into her body as she could before she passed out or retched.
She needed to get drunk as fast as possible, and forget about Avallac'h and her dead father and the strange man she would be sharing her bed with in the probably-near future.