QUEEN OF RUIN
"Your Imperial Majesty?" Marie's voice drifted softly from the door. The girl dared to peek in, for just a moment, even though her stomach was already scrunching. She imagined the look on the woman's face at being disturbed after being explicitly commanded to be left alone, she couldn't just - it was -
To her relief, the Queen wasn't even facing the door. She was at the far side of the room, standing before the tall windows with her face tilted upwards as if basking in the afternoon sun. She was still wearing the loose deep purple dress, cinched about her slim waist with a golden chain belt. It had only one sleeve, as most of the Queen's dresses did, and was decorated with swirling gold thread. Her dark curling hair was unbound, tumbling down her back.
A cloud passed over the sun and the room darkened. The Queen turned her face just enough for Marie to see the curve of her cheek and the shadow of a blood red eye.
"What is it?" The woman asked softly and there was something about how she said it in the darkened room that sent a chill prickling up the girl's spine. She locked her knees and tightened her grip on the door handle. The Queen wouldn't hurt her.
"Princess Henrietta would like to meet with you." Only a princess, the girl thought and deviated from the script. "Shall I send her away?"
It was as if the world held its breath between one moment and the next as the clouds moved and the shadows shifted. There was a strange tension and Marie found her eyes straying to the golden crown on the dresser. The large, dark ruby in its front glimmered.
"No." The Queen said and the girl blinked. The sun was shining in all its brilliance once more, filling the room with its warm, golden light. The Queen had turned. There was an odd, little half smile on her face and her red eyes were on the crown. "I will indulge her."
Renia took a moment to breathe.
That moment was all she had as Henrietta swept into her room. She was brimming with renewed self-confidence and determination, the kind that made one tired just looking at her. She had changed dresses, wearing what Renia knew to be a more traditional Tristainian gown with a high collar, lace hems and flaring skirt. It almost brought a smile to her face. She imagined the girl had torn the other dress off in a fit of pique and was now attempting to make a statement.
Princess Henrietta came to a sharp stop at the other side of the table with a defiant upward tilt of her head. The table between them was a dark wood covered in a pure white tablecloth that was half cloth and half lace, spilling down the sides in loops and geometric patterns. Renia slowly raised an eyebrow before gesturing to the chair.
"By all means, have a seat."
"Thank you," the girl said primly and sat.
"What can I help you with, princess?"
"I would like to know why we can't be friends," Henrietta said bluntly, tossing aside all conventions of courtly speech. "There is very little I can think of that would mean we can't - "
"Can't?" Renia asked lightly.
"Won't?" Henrietta questioned back.
"Perhaps it is a matter of yet," Renia said with a small smile. "And at the moment, it is rather conditional."
Henrietta's eyebrows furrowed for a moment, before her face cleared. "Assuming that were not a problem," she began and Renia's eyebrows rose. "Let's say that for now, we are willing to pretend the extenuating circumstances of our meeting did not exist." Henrietta's blue eyes searched hers. 'What would hinder our friendship?"
Fine.
She will play.
"Do you usually befriend people you don't know?"
"You know Tristain," Henrietta countered immediately and Renia almost scoffed. A day or two in the capital and books did not substitute for in depth knowledge of a nation. There was knowledge only time and experience could gain. The flashes of memory from a sheltered noble child was no comparison.
"Do I?"
Henrietta blew out an exasperated breath. "You certainly know us better than we know you!"
"And you are so certain you even want to be friends with Rutenia," Renia pointed out with a smile. "How curious."
The girl's eyes widened for a split second, then narrowed. She leaned forward. "Are you implying that Rutenia is unworthy of Tristain?"
"Rutenia is always mindful of making unworthy partnerships, in either direction. We are slow to offer and slower to trust." She allowed herself a small sigh. "I will admit, it is an isolationist policy." Her policy. "But it has served us well. I have no reason to go against it." Henrietta opened her mouth and Renia reached out to her. "Please. Consider our extenuating circumstances. If you were spirited away to an unknown kingdom for the purposes of becoming a familiar to one of their nobles, what would you do?"
"I…" A long moment passed and the girl's shoulders slumped. "I do not know."
Gently, Renia prodded her. "Think about it."
"I would not want to make enemies," she said with a self-deprecating smile. "I would not want to...burden Tristain with any of my decisions."
"Go on."
"I would get to know them." Then a bit chiding, "I would share more about my country with them than you have."
"You are curious, aren't you?"
The princess grinned an unrepentant grin. "We're pretending, remember?" Renia allowed that hit to go uncontested, but she would remember it. Henrietta tilted her head to the side as her grin softened. "Or maybe just more about you?"
That brought a smile to her face. The truth would horrify the child. "Me?"
"Yes, you!" The princess said with a giggle. "Who is the Queen Regent of Rutenia?"
Renia leaned back in her chair and cooly replied, "A widow of two years."
Henrietta's smile withered. "I - I'm sorry."
I'm not.
But.
I considered giving up my ambition for him once.
"What do you have to be sorry for?" Renia said with a soft smile. She let her gaze drift towards her crown on the dresser and unfocus, as if reminiscing. "He had a chronic illness, for as long as I had known him, all throughout our marriage. It was only a matter of time and we still had a wonderful fifteen years."
"Papa," Henrietta began softly and corrected herself. "My father passed away three years ago and mother mourns him still."
"But you don't," Renia murmured.
"I -!" The girl started, almost leaping half out of her chair. Their eyes met and slowly, she retook her seat. She fidgeted and Renia waited. "I suppose...I prefer to remember him as he was rather than that he's...gone." She smiled then, but it was a bitter, little thing. "And sometimes I am so busy, and overwhelmed and frustrated that I wish - "
"You wish he didn't leave you alone?"
"Or that my mother - she would have been Queen regnant before me, but…" Henrietta took a fortifying breath. "How old is your son?"
"Edmund?" Renia cursed the surprise in her voice. "He's fifteen." After a moment of hesitation - just do it - she grasped the air and crafted the last clear image she had of him.
The demon's image.
And didn't that just sting.
Her son's illusion stood still in his mink fur sweater and white slacks and blue cloak clasped with a silver two-headed imperial eagle with the platinum circlet on his head. He had his father's stern jaw, she saw. His father's brow, but his grandmother's small ears and slightly upturned nose. He had her lips and eye shape, but the bright amber color was all his father.
"He's very handsome," Henrietta said with the judgement of a teenage girl telling her what she already knew.
"He is."
My daughter would have been - Renia's breath caught and she averted her gaze to the white tablecloth. She forced herself to finish the thought. My daughter would have been beautiful.
She would have been.
No one could tell from the bloody, shredded sack of meat that she delivered, but Renia knew.
Eadred and his gift. A family of swans with two cygnets on her desk.
For us.
Sorceresses, no matter their true age, could have children whenever they wished.
For a Price.
"You miss him," Henrietta murmured.
Renia hummed. "I do, but I'm sure he is doing fine." Without her. "I taught him well."
Henrietta's lips pursed. "With a Council of Lords to - "
"No."
The girl paused. "No?"
Renia barely kept the sneer off her face. "It was disbanded and good riddance." Her first command as Regent, further enforced by a few loud mouths disappearing. "He must have either appointed an interim Regent - " unlikely " - or is ruling in his own right by now." She closed her eyes briefly. "To remove a regent would require a trial of impeachment, and a temporary, involuntary leave of absence would not suit the requirements." She opened her eyes and sighed. "So you need not worry that Rutenia would not honor agreements made."
"If we can convince you to make any," Henrietta pointed out.
"Yes, if." She leaned her head back. The ceiling was the same as it had always been. Dark grey brick supported by wooden rafters. "But I suppose if we were to pretend…"
Henrietta gasped a little, but otherwise kept her peace.
"I am sorry to say that your industry is inferior to ours." She did not have the words to measure how utterly medieval Tristain was. "By a lot." She did not offer a smile to soften the blow. "At best, you could offer raw materials and if you transport by land, it would be in insignificant amounts. You simply do not have the capacity."
"By land…" Henrietta murmured, already seeing the exception. "And by air?"
"...it would depend on your airships. Our method is…" Her nose wrinkled. "Somewhat unfinished." At the time of her...departure, the Imperial Navy had been receiving its first orders of aeroplanes. She had been skeptical. She would always be skeptical, but Edmund…
Innovation is costly, mother.
Damn that boy.
"And if your airships are capable of being used in war," Renia mused and from the way Henrietta shifted, they could be. "That would be worth bargaining for."
"Until you figure out how to make your own," the princess said shrewdly.
"If I am not mistaken, yours requires the use of wind crystals?" The girl nodded. "Rutenia has no deposits."
"You…" For a moment, the girl just paused and Renia knew she had just made a mistake. "None?"
"None," she affirmed. How prevalent were these wind crystals? Enough to float a nation. Enough to manufacture technology with it given a literally medieval base of operations. Consumable? Or renewable energy? Did they need to be empowered instead? Did they grow? Were they mined? Was mining it safe? She reached for the knowledge in her head, for that bright flash of memory and grasped…
Nothing.
Mercy preserve her.
The first crack in her facade.
"Our ability to expand is...limited," she offered by way of explanation. "It is not that we do not wish to, but rather - "
"The Firstborn," Henrietta said knowingly.
"The - " Justice burn her, the elves! "Эльф, yes." She almost stuttered. "Am I safe in assuming you suffer from the same...problem?"
Henrietta shrugged a shoulder. "Isn't everyone?"
"Albion," Renia deadpanned. The floating island.
A shadow passed over Henrietta's face before the girl forced a laugh. "I suppose that is true."
Every inch of her burned to exploit the exposed weakness, but no, not yet. First - first - she had to shore up her blunder. There was time yet.
"We would need no defense pact," Renia murmured. "We have yet to find each other on a map, and my people are stubborn and prideful besides. We have survived this long."
"With unknown magic," Henrietta said just as softly.
"Unknown?" Her tongue burned. "Oh, you know it." Her eyes darted to the crown on her dresser and she silently cursed.
Руин, you greedy bastard.
Renia smiled and she knew it didn't reach her eyes.
"You know it."
Henrietta's lips were pressed into a grim line as she took a moment to consider what that meant. "I see. We could trade in knowledge, still. There is bound to be decades, centuries of drift in magical theology." Her voice picked up in energy. "If you have anything related to Void magic and the Founder -!"
There was a flash of memory. A book. Rings. Keepsakes of the royal families. All of the proper Brimiric nations had them, as befitting nations founded by the Founder's direct descendants. A ruby for Fire. A sapphire for Water. A topaz for Earth. An emerald for Wind. Four elemental rings.
For five elements.
"We have," Renia began slowly. "A ring."
She watched Henrietta's eyes widen.
"Can you - " She wilted, then regained strength. "Can you show me?" she finished in a whisper. Renia sucked in a breath and after a moment, reached out for air as she stretched out a hand. Hovering above her cupped palm, shimmering as if caught in a heat wave, the illusion formed.
It was a simplistic band of silver with a large, thin tapering diamond face. Embedded within was a polished black jewel, similar to onyx if not the minute white, blue and golden sparkles within shining like stars in a midnight sky.
"Void…" Henrietta breathed.
Renia smiled down at the ring with a crooked smile, half-way to a grimace.
This was a dangerous lie to tell.
But for Rutenia to be relegated to the same status as Germania - illegitimate - as well as being off the map?
No.
It was the only lie she could tell.
She crushed the ring's illusion in her hand.
"This is - we never imagined - I can hardly believe -" Henrietta was very nearly bouncing in her seat. "Do you know what this means? We have to - "
"Do nothing." Renia interrupted her.
"Nothing?" The girl nearly screeched. "You are a fifth kingdom! Brimir founded a fifth! How can we not -"
"Henrietta," Renia leaned back in her chair and shook her head. "We are pretending, remember?"
And didn't that feel good to say.
It had the same effect as dumping cold water on a cat.
Princess Henrietta stiffened in her chair. Her mouth fell open and her blue eyes opened wide, brimming with disbelief and hurt.
Renia watched her with a thin, polite smile as she absently drew circles in the white tablecloth. "You understand, of course."
A moment of bitter silence hung between them.
"Of course," Princess Henrietta spoke in a bland tone of voice. "I understand completely."
"Wonderful. I don't suppose you would be willing to enlighten me on a certain matter? I heard the most interesting rumor recently. About a rebellion." She watched that shadow pass over the girl's face again with no small amount of vicious glee. "In Albion?"
"There is not much to say about it at this time." The girl returned cooly, with an almost perfect diplomat's cadence. Almost perfect. "We have had little news."
"A pity." Renia let her eyes roam the room as she carefully tapped a gentle finger on the table between them. She would not feign disinterest, but neither could she afford to appear invested. "And do they at least have a name for themselves? A moniker, a motto or is this truly a nameless insurrection?"
She doubted it was nameless. Longueville may not have mentioned one, but it was implied all the same. A brief flare of discontent, a mild clamor of raised voices arguing for more food, more freedoms, more rights, whatever, would have been unworthy of her attention. It was happening a country away. Such a thing would have been unworthy of Tristain's attention.
"They do," Henrietta admitted. "The Reconquista." She shook her head. "It means to 'reconquer' in Romalian."
And Romalia was the home of the Church.
Too obvious.
Renia threw the half-formed thought out.
"If I remember my admittedly abbreviated history lesson, Albion has been an ally of Tristain for a while, hasn't it?" The girl barely flinched, but her answering nod was nothing but miserable. And they had just established that this was no nameless insurrection. Leaving their ally to the dogs, was it?
"Albion has requested …that it be allowed to handle its own affairs." Renia shifted in her seat and said nothing. Henrietta's answering smile was thin. "King James de Albion is a proud monarch."
The King was either stupid or his request had been faked. It was not out of the realm of possibility that both were true. Pride keeping his Majesty from seeking help until it was too late.
"I see." Renia said, and she did. She poured concern into her frown. As far as they were concerned, Rutenia was a Brimic nation. "Has Tristain any plans to address this state of affairs?"
And they must for the same reason they wanted to brand her. Religion. The balance of power in the Brimiric nations was ordained. Royalty were direct descendants of their Founder and nobility derived their magic from God. For the common man to rise up and overthrow his betters was tantamount to heresy. If the Reconquista managed to reconquer, then it only stood to reason that they must be then conquered back or it threw the entire system into jeopardy. Germania was ill liked and untrusted because its Emperor had no divine mandate.
For a nation with a divine mandate to so openly fail...
With far more hesitation than she thought warranted, Henrietta nodded. "We will be...making an announcement."
"An announcement? The time for condemnation of this movement has long passed. If you were mobilizing defensive forces, you would not wait so long to make...an announcement. Now, an alliance? A defense pact, I am guessing," she said, thinking out loud. She thought much faster than she could talk, but it helped when she wanted to demonstrate. It was inadvisable to hide things from her. It would not do to lie to her. "A mere trade agreement would not suffice, not when martial might is so...uneven." A child could look at the size of Germania compared to Tristain and ascertain that one had much more to offer than the other. "Marriage, is it?"
Henrietta stared over Renia's shoulder, out the tall windows behind her. "Yes."
"And it is uneven, isn't it? You are the sole heir, unless I was misinformed?" Osmund would not have dared to feed her a falsehood of that did not mean Henrietta could not abdicate in favor of another before her wedding, but it would be a risky maneuver. Germania would get an heir of 'proper' royal blood still, but little else. Technical at-the-time truths were rarely viewed kindly. A somewhat sardonic smile was fighting her carefully blank expression. "And how long was Tristain intending to maintain its authority and sovereignty again?"
It was the echo of a question previously asked during the negotiations. Caught, Henrietta's eyes dropped from the window to her lap. The glimmer of realization, that this was nothing but a mistake, was beginning to dawn on the girl.
"Until the end of spring," she murmured in reply.
Two, perhaps three months at most. It explained why she was here at the Academy and not the Capital. It explained the negotiations taking place here and not at the palace.
Haste.
They needed Rutenia at the table. They needed an agreement hashed out and ratified before it ceased to be Tristain, and became Germania. That told her the agreement with Germania was in its final stages but not quite set in stone. It could be altered, if one party or the other gained or lost influence.
It could be broken.
It also told her that Tristain was terrified of this Reconquista.
"Is Tristain to be a principality of Germania, then?" Renia asked idly. "Or a province? I suppose if you had two sons, that would ensure succession remained tidy." She left unsaid what it meant if Henrietta had only one son from her marriage, or worse, none at all. The child was a little slow, but not hopeless.
Renia cast one look at the crestfallen expression on Henrietta's face and nearly sighed. She was trying to hide it. Not very well.
"Or is the problem that your heart belongs to another?"
The girl was practically vibrating in her chair with tension. Renia rolled her eyes. Children. Everything must always be so dramatic with them. Edmund, for all his maturity and reserved nature, was the same. She made sure her voice came out patient, without being condescending.
"You are not the first, nor the last, person to have a lover before marriage - "
"Please! No one can know!"
Renia blinked. "What?"
Surely they could not be this stupid.
"No one can know," the princess repeated quietly, urgently. "Germania has never had the best of relations with - with Tristain," the girl rushed to explain. "Everything must be handled directly, delicately. Evidence - evidence is to be removed and -"
Henrietta searched for the words as her blue eyes pleaded for leniency.
She stood corrected. They were this stupid.
So they expected Albion to fall, then. Remarkable. A Crown toppled by an insurgency, abandoned by its nominal allies in fear of suffering the same fate. It was a story she herself had once spun. An insurgency she created only to crush in the end. She wondered with half a mind who the leader behind the Reconquista was, because surely there was one. Perhaps more than one, backed by an enemy or an "ally."
Peasants revolt. It was a fact of life.
Succeeding required far more than just angry, downtrodden masses.
Renia lifted a skeptical eyebrow. "And it is for that reason that you must create a scandal?"
"You - you don't understand. Germania must have no reason to doubt - "
"Do not patronize me, princess," Renia interrupted smoothly. "It is for that very reason that you must own it so that it may never be used against you. Confess the relationship and volunteer your sincerity, throw yourself on the swords of public opinion and commit to a period of isolation to ensure the heirs you bear are of the Emperor."
The way the girl flinched back, the way her face pinched and eyes darkened told her a thousand words.
"But that is not the point, is it? I see now," she said with a sharp smile. An Albion noble, at least. And not a minor one. Else the girl would have no way of knowing whether or not he was still alive, whether or not her 'evidence' was still secure, not if the rebellion was at such a height that it could intercept communications. It would have to be someone that even the rebellion would crow about killing. An earl or duke. A prince. She considered it. A prince. "All that additional risk, all the bloody effort, is so that you can avoid having to grovel."
"It's not - " Henrietta's mouth worked as her eyes widened, betraying the thoughts racing through her head. "It's not like that!"
Oh, it was exactly like that. It mattered not whose pride was at stake here, Henrietta's or Tristain's, but it was clear that it was due to pride.
And a hint of something else in her expression.
Fear.
"He would allow it to be retrieved from him gladly, wouldn't he?" Renia guessed with a light tone and didn't miss the moment of anguish on Henrietta's face. "He would ensure that he would cause you no trouble."
"Wales would - "
There it was.
"He would have it, wouldn't he? Somewhere safe and secure. Treasured. Perhaps he even keeps it on him to take strength from." Each word was like the sharp prick of a needle, drawing crimson drops of blood. "Your man will die, bereft," she continued with blatantly false sympathy. "But at least you will have your dignity."
The words sliced through the air.
"You're cruel," the Princess whispered and Renia couldn't help it. She laughed. The laugh itself surprised her with how light and carefree it sounded. It was if the Princess had simply told an innocent joke. She would not deny it, of course. She knew very well what kind of person she was. A pity it took the child this long to see it.
"And to think," Renia began softly, just to twist the knife. "This is me being kind."
In time, the child might see that as well.
The Princess stood suddenly, violently. There was a screech as her chair was shoved back and a loud clattering as it toppled. Neither moved to right it again, leaving it rocking in place where it lay.
"I fear I must take my leave," the child said with a voice that trembled, on the verge of breaking. "If you would excuse me, your Imperial Majesty."
"Of course," Renia said with the same softness and watched the girl quickly turn from her. She did not turn fast enough to hide the first of the tears. Princess Henrietta fled the room, hounded by nothing more than the truth and Renia watched her go. The door slammed and the woman considered, resting her chin in the palm of her left hand. She glanced towards her mirror. The reflection of a beautiful woman in perhaps her late twenties or early thirties with dark hair and red eyes glanced back. She shifted her shoulders and tilted her head. A curling lock of dark hair fell against her cheek as she searched her reflection for signs of age. There were none.
There would never be.
"Wales, was it?" Renia asked the silence. She knew that name. Louise knew that name, with the bright flash of associative memory that told her it was the name of Princess Henrietta's first cousin, Albion's Crown Prince. "Wales Tudor, heir apparent."
The silence answered with the feeling of a slight weight settling on her shoulder and Renia watched the dark form of a black widow spider skitter down her bare right arm. With an amused little smile, she caught the arachnid before it could scuttle onto the table between her fingers. She held its wriggling form up to the light. She felt it bite.
It became as dark smoke, dissipating into thin air.
She did not need to look to see the dark fire within her crown's ruby smile.