QUEEN OF RUIN
It had been outside.
She had sat there among the budding flowers, sweet smells and cool breeze when her future had been traded for Tristain's to the Emperor of Germania. It had been outside, with her carefully chosen dress that wouldn't let her breathe and her hair braided back under a too heavy crown as she listened to Cardinal Marzarin feeling like she could just keel over and die.
It had been outside and Henrietta had never felt so trapped in her life.
Her dress today had been chosen just as carefully. It was the one the Empress had made for her, a mostly white piece with a blue diamond shape cutting into the bodice and carrying down the left sleeve, rimmed in silver thread. It's purpose was to invoke pleasant memories, to capitalize on first impressions. Her crown sat just as heavy today as it did then, almost to the point of pain on her brow.
Louise walked at her side in a pale blue dress, slightly behind and to the left. Silent, with her head down.
"If you have any insight to give, Osmund," Cardinal Mazarin said softly as they progressed down the hall, passing tall window after tall window. He wore his official robes as a Cardinal, white robes with the dark blue tabard and tall hat. "Speak quickly."
"Would that I did, old friend" the Headmaster of Tristain's Academy of Magic said evenly. Like the rest of them, the Headmaster was dressed in his best. "Would that I did." A lazy snake of smoke rose from his pipe. "She's a proud woman, wears it like a cloak."
Yes, Henrietta had noticed.
"Time will tell if the pride comes with claws," the Cardinal murmured.
Henrietta laid a warm hand on Louise's shoulder and tried to smile softly. "These will just be the preliminary discussions," she said in a low voice so as not to interrupt the two men's discussion. "Proper introductions if you will."
"I worry over nothing, then," Louise said in reply with a bright smile that did not reach her pink eyes.
We are all going to the city as friends, aren't we?
Such a simple opportunity for reassurance. It would have cost her nothing to affirm a lack of hostile intentions before spending a day in the capital.
She means relax, child. You are far too tense.
And Empress Renia chose not to offer even that.
She could see that as nothing else but a deliberate action.
Tall guards resplendent in their plate and finery opened the doors to the Hall of History. The great oak whispered as they swung open and Henrietta had her first look at the arena. The room was large and round, the idle chatter of some of her dignitaries filling the space as men and woman claimed chairs normally reserved for students. Like most rooms at the Academy, it was tastefully decorated with thick red drapes over tall windows, and simple silver inlaid carvings on the pillars. The chairs were arranged in a half circle, facing the tall lovingly sculpted statue of the Founder with his hands outstretched over a large table covered with a map of the known world, as if embracing it.
History will be made here, Henrietta thought. A sacred ritual passed down from the Founder himself had called a sovereign instead of an animal, bringing a wayward child to the table of kings.
Empress Renia sat at the table alone. Her curling dark hair was brushed to one side, spilling in rings to the table as she rested her chin in her left hand. The right, covered as it always was in the sleeve of gold and rubies, traced lines on the map. Her crown was a majestic thing, a high rise in the front with a large ruby at its heart. She was a beautiful woman, the kind every little girl hoped to grow up to be one day. It was trivial to imagine her on the arm of a king.
Or an emperor.
There was the sharp sound of wood cracking against stone, the butt of a spear hitting the ground. "All hail her Majesty, Princess Henrietta of Tristrain and regent Cardinal Mazarin!"
There was a shuffle of wood on stone as people rose. Empress Renia simply raised an eyebrow and kept her seat.
A proud woman, Henrietta thought to herself. The bubble of anticipation was tight at the back of her throat, so tight swallowing hurt.
They must be careful not to prick that pride.
"Empress Renia!" Cardinal Mazarin began, speeding up his steps to draw close to the table before them and to Henrietta's relief, the woman rose for him. She extended a hand - the left - and the Cardinal took it in both hands. A fatherly gesture that the woman accepted without even a shift in expression.
"Your Eminence," she murmured with a small smile. "Meeting you is a blessing."
"And meeting you is a wonder," was his earnest response.
Henrietta stepped up beside him with a smile of her own. "It is absolutely wonderful to see you again, your Imperial Majesty."
"My Princess," the woman responded with a small squeeze of the Cardinal's hands before slipping from his grip to extend both hands to her, as if they were the best of friends meeting each other again after a long time apart. "Henrietta...and Louise!"
Something flashed through the woman's red eyes then, but she couldn't tell what it had been.
"Your Imperial Majesty," Louise said quietly with a deep curtsey. Or an attempted one, the Empress gently caught her about the shoulders before she could sink too far. And for a moment, the woman said nothing. She simply searched Louise's face for something. Henrietta couldn't say if she found it, even when the woman smiled once more.
"De La Valliere." The Empress stepped back from them and turned back to her seat. "Shall we?"
They all settled into their seats and with a gesture, the rest of the room sat as well.
"Now then," Cardinal Mazarin began with a small cough and a smile. "Before we begin with today's proceedings, may I ask if Rutenia would acknowledge the gathered as representatives of Tristain's authority and sovereignty?"
A quicksilver smile flickered across Empress Renia's lips. "And how long does Tristain intend to retain its authority and sovereignty?"
Henrietta felt her breath catch as she looked up into the woman's blood red eyes.
She knows.
No, she thought immediately. She couldn't possibly.
"Until such a time when such is no longer in the interests of our nation," Cardinal Mazarin said without hesitation. From all appearances, nothing had changed in him, but Henrietta knew without looking that his gaze had sharpened.
"Any agreement between our two parties will have to be grandfathered in when such a time comes," she anticipated their question before they could ask it. "Accepted by the new beneficiary in its original form."
We can't promise that.
She kept still and hoped she seemed outwardly placid.
I can't promise that.
"We can certainly make provisions," Henrietta forced herself to say, "provided you accept…?"
"Hm?" The woman almost sounded distracted, but she had never struck her as a woman to be carelessly distracted, before she waved a careless hand. "Of course, Rutenia accepts the gathered as legal representatives of Tristain's Crown. I assume this cuts both ways?"
Cardinal Mazarin nodded. "Tristain acknowledges the Queen Regent of Rutenia, Renia Ruten, as the lawful representative of her nation."
The woman's lips curved into a satisfied smile. "Then perhaps you see the problem in contracting me as a Familiar, yes?".
The words fell from her lips automatically. "It is our hope that we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement and foster a bright future for our two nations."
The woman just looked at her and try as she might, there wasn't a sliver of warmth to be found in them. Hard, cold red eyes bored into her, pinning her to the chair and for a moment, she was outside once more, unable to breathe. It hadn't been enough. All of the efforts of Headmaster Osmund, and Louise and she thought if not friends, then at least cordial acquaintances and now she felt like such a fool.
We are all going to the city as friends, aren't we?
She means relax, child. You are far too tense.
Rutenia had no intention of peaceful relations with Tristain.
Slowly, Empress Renia's smile shrunk into a thin line. "You are going to insist, and I am going to refuse. Where does that leave us?"
Where did that leave them, indeed.
Oh, she had recognized the look the girl - Henrietta - no doubt thought she hid well enough. She had seen it enough times to tell that potent mixture of shock and hurt and anger at a glance.
Betrayal.
It would fester within the Princess. She would walk away from the table today wondering 'what ifs' and 'how coulds' and 'should Is' until she picked herself up from wallowing in self pity long enough to do something about it. That something would take the form of reconciliation, a second attempt, if she had not missed her guess. Things did not progress as the Princess thought they would and that was something to be corrected. She would think herself jaded and wiser and ready to play the game again.
For a moment, Renia allowed her gaze to drift from the Princess to the girl that sat behind her. Louisde was pale with both hands clasped tightly together in her lap as if they were fighting the urge to fly away. The expression on her face was the very image of resignation where the faces of those around her showed indignation or unease.
A decent head on her shoulders, that one.
"Perhaps it would be best," Cardinal Mazarin said slowly. "To begin at the beginning again."
"I am truly sorry, your Eminence," Renia replied, not feeling sorry in the slightest, but she let her eyes soften as if in regret and allowed a small frown to overtake her lips. "This is the beginning. Rutenia cannot trust Tristain to treat in good faith, if your nation truly seeks servitude for its sovereign."
"It would be no servitude," Princess Henrietta said strongly. "At worst, a partnership. Tristain has no intention of relegating one of your personage to that of a servant. You would be obligated to follow no commands and Tristain is prepared to offer concessions to prove our willingness."
How generous, the slave said to the master. That you would not force me against my wishes.
"With all due respect, Headmaster Osmund has already admitted to your ignorance regarding the Familiar contract." She made sure to keep her voice light and unassuming. "You know not if there would be physical consequences of a human Familiar, never mind if there are any of the mind. It is said a Familiar will not harm its master, is that not correct?"
"Well, yes, but - "
The Cardinal raised a hand and Princess Henrietta fell silent. A moment later the girl's face contorted, briefly, a flash of realization that told her Henrietta understood too late the implications.
A Familiar will not harm its master.
She seized that moment of stillness, that moment of weakness.
"Where am I to be kept, Rutenia would ask of Tristain. Am I to follow Louse De La Valliere around for the rest of her natural life? Am I to be returned to my kingdom, out of reach and functionally a Familiar in name only? Am I to be summoned back outside of Rutenia's borders whenever my master has need of me?"
The answers were in their faces. Send her back and away, said the faces of some in the crowd around them, tight with unease. Keep her here, was written on the expressions of a few gentlemen. One man, in perhaps his early thirties had nothing on his face but knowing, as if he was witnessing the unveiling of a secret he had long kept. She caught his eye and saw amusement in them, even as he inclined his head respectfully.
There was no attempt to hide from him, which told her that he wanted to be remembered. She would do him that courtesy.
"Tristain would move for a stay of judgment," Cardinal Mazarin stated blandly. "The decision rests with the Church of Romalia who has expressed a willingness to mediate on Tristain's behalf on this issue." And in that moment, the momentum shifted against her.
The Church.
She swallowed back the bile in her throat.
No true Brimiric nation would refuse to deal with the Church of Romalia, she knew that much. Even if Rutenia had been on this world in truth, at the very least, Edmund would want to parley. He would entertain them so as not to unduly offend, or invite the Church's of the two nations to speak.
She wanted to offend.
She wanted to be vulgar and uncouth and barbaric. She wanted to scream and roar and rage that they were speaking of branding her for life.
"Rutenia would accept Romalia's judgement on behalf of Tristain." It was hard to get the words out. She did not quite know how she managed it, nor how exactly it sounded but she was beyond caring. "Rutenia would move for a recess to deliberate."
"Tristain accepts the motion."
She stood and left the room. She took a breath and then another, slower. Marie was waiting for her just outside of the double doors. Their eyes met and she could see the moment the excitement drained from the girl's face. Was it in her posture? Her face? Her eyes?
"Oh," Marie said.
"I wish to retire, Marie," Renia said simply. "And I wish to be alone."
"Of course," the girl murmured. "If your Imperial Majesty would follow me?"
She did not remember the walk back. Only the click of the door closing behind her brought her out of her own mind. For a moment, Renia took in the room granted her. She saw a cage, gilded in dark wood and silver. She crossed the plush carpet and passed by the tea table and overstuffed chairs to come before the dresser with the large mirror standing proudly upon it.
The woman in the mirror looked tired.
The mirror cracked.
Then shattered.
She felt the cold stinging of glass shards graze her face and arms as the snarling wooden carvings of griffons on the frame came alive, and began to tear themselves apart as the wood rotted.
She raised a hand and plucked a sliver of glass from her cheek. She grasped a demon.
Be Edmund.
In the ruined remains of glass, she saw the shadow form behind her. A boy's form silhouetted in a cloak with burning coals for eyes and then the darkness melted away to reveal yellow hair. The coals cooled to amber as the boy took in a startled breath as if he had just woken from a deep sleep. He was wearing one of the outfits she had commissioned for him, a grey sweater lined in mink fur over a blue shirt and white slacks. Andale was sheathed at his hip, underneath the dark blue half cloak he wore over his right shoulder, clasped with a silver imperial eagle.
She did not know what she was prepared to feel like, seeing him standing there with a circlet of platinum on his head, but it was a prick of fire in her breast swiftly followed by a yawning abyss of emptiness.
The boy took a step backwards, eyes wide...and then they narrowed as they swept around the room. He would be marking the exits, taking in the decor and placement of objects. His eyes flickered to the window where the midday sun shone brightly.
"Where?" Her son's doppelgaenger said simply.
"Away," she replied, observing him in the broken reflection of a broken mirror. "Far, far away. Too far."
Too far to return from.
The corners of his lips twitched downwards and she smiled.
"Are you not willing to accept exile, your Imperial Majesty?" Kill me then, she thought but did not say. It would speak as her son would. It would act as her son would. It would think as her son would.
But it was not Edmund. She would not invite it to break character.
Perhaps she was afraid that it would not be breaking character at all.
Like a dog, his head tilted quizzically to the side, but she could easily see the pleasure in his eyes. The boy had never been good at hiding his emotions.
"It is strange to hear. Your Imperial Majesty. From you."
"I imagine it is."
A long moment stretched between them. He did not deny her exile, just as she was well aware that he had yet to accept it. She taught him that.
"Why?" He spoke again.
She raised a shoulder, and let it fall. "They are going to brand me."
And her eyes burned. For an instant, her vision blurred and the boy in the broken mirror was a silhouette again, but she blinked it away. A single tear escaped and she could feel the salt in it sting as it ran over the light scratches on her cheek. She did not wipe it away.
Let him see.
And see he did.
"You fear this."
"I do."
His hand finally fell away from Andale's hilt as the other reached out for her. The touch was light on her back and she almost leaned back into it. Edmund had never been a very tactile child and as he grew into a reserved young man, she learned to treasure every time he reached out.
Edmund's amber eyes searched hers through the reflection. "Will you tell me?"
No, she wanted to say. Never. Bile burned at the back of her throat as her stomach contorted and twisted in her abdomen. A hot, wet feeling burned in her cheeks as she struggled to clear her throat.
This was shame.
"I belong to Руин," she admitted bitterly.
"It would be a...breach of contract?" He didn't understand. She could see it and for a moment, the almost overpowering urge to make him boiled underneath her skin.
Like mother wanted me to understand?
The urge dissipated and she was left with bitter echoes of feeling.
"I belong to Руин," she repeated. "Mind, body and soul."
She had been thirteen when her mother put her through the Haunting.
Edmund had been the same age.
She was not her mother.
It rang hollow.
"The formation of my contract was degrading," she forced herself to say. "Humiliating."
To this day, she didn't know how long it took. She could still feel the fingers of Руин finding purchase in her mind and soul, peeling back the layers on everything she tried to hide. Her right arm throbbed in memory of the skin being flayed down to the bone. It didn't keep her for itself. Perhaps it had grown bored. Or it had been one of its many whims.
She had been made to want it.
To get down on her knees and beg for it.
She had not asked after the Price, once.
"They would -" her son's doppelganger began, then stopped. His mouth opened and closed. His amber eyes were wide and bright and she knew he suspected. "They wouldn't - "
"They don't know."
A Familiar will not harm its master.
"And I will die before it happens to me again." She nearly bit off her tongue closing her mouth, but the words had already escaped her. The relief she thought she might have felt at saying it, finally saying it, didn't come.
The weight of her crown on her head was cold.
Edmund stared at her as if he had never seen her before.
She supposed he never had.
"You never told me," he murmured.
"You were a child."
A quick, mirthless smile danced on his lips. "A few months ago, you would have said I was a child still."
You poisoned me, she wanted to answer. "A few months ago, you did not hold the Crown."
"Did you do it?" He asked suddenly. "Kill father?"
She almost laughed. "Is this really the time?"
He stepped back from her and lowered his eyes, chastised as he looked up at her through his eyelashes. "Is it ever the time?"
Something in her chest squeezed and ached at the lost look on his face. It made him look years younger, as if he was still the little boy that believed the world of his parents. The boy clinging to her skirts as they toured the gardens or the capital's zoo was there in the mirror waiting for her to lie to him.
Eadred had been fine, she remembered. His health had been tenuous for as long as she had known him, but she had been told that it was manageable. She had been there as his manageable illness had him spitting up blood at night and shaking as a leaf in the wind during the day. She was there with every physician that had seen him and every pill he had taken. If she asked, he would take any pills she gave him.
It had taken a little less than a month before her husband succumbed. He had woken one morning, clutching his chest as a weakened heart struggled to pump poisoned blood through his veins.
She could remember it.
She could remember every moment of it.
Every labored breath. How his hands shook as he clutched the sheets and then her, rasping that he loved her. That he had since the moment he laid eyes on her and that he always would. She remembered that the bleeding from his nose had begun when the doctor finally arrived with a cadre of assistants. Their low tones and murmurs as they examined the Emperor. The minutes ticking by as their faces changed from expectant to despairing and desperate.
I am sorry, but his Imperial Majesty does not have long.
I understand doctor.
It had been raining that morning. The sun hidden behind dark storm clouds as a heavy rain flooded the streets. There had been no thunder, just the patter of rain as Edmund had screamed in denial, clinging to his father.
She could remember it.
"Yes," she whispered. "I did."
Edmund's face twisted and crumpled. It was for you, she could say. She could tell him it had been for the sake of his crown. She could tell him what she had done to keep the nation intact as his father's careless concessions chipped and ate away at his authority. She could tell him of every dark deed done in the shadows to keep her family alive. She could tell him what the night's spent bleeding in the bathtub at the dead of night, screaming herself hoarse were for. She could list her debts. What they bought, what they hid, what they accomplished….
This was not her son.
"You suspected for years," she said instead.
"I should hate you," he croaked. His hand was on Andale's hilt once more, a white knuckled grip that betrayed the urge to draw it. "Why don't I hate you?"
And at that she had to turn to him. Edmund had not needed to hate her to decide in favor of ending her life.
He truly was his mother's son.
"I am a hateful woman," was all she said.
"No," Edmund said sadly. "I pity you, mother."
"I do not want your pity."
What was she, without her pride?
"Perhaps not," the boy allowed with a rueful smile. "I - " He looked away in an attempt to hide his face. He had never been good at hiding his emotions. "I will formally banish you. On pain of death."
"They will think you weak for that," she observed lightly and watched his face twist.
"Let them." Edmund glanced up at her again, worrying at his lip. He opened his mouth and Renia closed her eyes.
"Do not say something you do not mean, Edmund. Not now."
She didn't want to hear it.
She couldn't bear hearing it from a demon wearing her son's face.
"Good bye, Edmund."
When she opened her eyes, the boy was gone. There was just a shadow with eyes like burning coals in his place. She turned back to the broken remains of the mirror, steeling herself.
"Thank you," Renia said.
She chose this.
"Take your Price."
And once again, it began.