Chapter Twenty-Two
A hollow sigh escapes her as she recalls the blur of her last day in Mitras. Against Premiere Zachary's wishes, she had insisted on attending the first day of Djel Sannes' trial. One of many ill-advised decisions which haunt her waking moments. In spite of her best efforts to focus on her impending tour, her mind kept circling back to the trial, specifically Section Commander Zoe's testimony.
"Was that all he told you?" The prosecutor had asked when he noticed the eccentric scout's discomfort on the stand.
"Not quite," the Section Commander had replied carefully perching her glasses atop her oily forehead. "'It's your turn. There's an order to these things. Perhaps it's the law of human nature. When one's time is over, another must take on the role that they used to play…and thus the world can never be cleansed of it.' Those were his exact words to me."
She remembers taking in the surprised and bemused expressions of the audience as she had scanned the courtroom, desperately searching for meaning behind the disgraced officer's cryptic warning. When her eyes had met Commander Ervin's she remembered the shiver of fear that ran down her spine as she noticed the hardened resolution reflected within his.
He knew…How could he not? His strategic prowess and talent for deduction were far greater than Section Commander Zoe's and Armin Arlert's.
The carriage's windows shake with a sudden roar that sends the queen instinctively reaching to her side for her flesh-paring blades. A soft gasp escapes her as her small fingers come up empty. There is another deafening roar and it takes a moment for the trembling in her hands to finally subside as her mind recognizes the thunderous clap of applause.
I don't understand. What's going on? Why are they clapping? The blonde wonders as blue eyes take in the crumbling skyline of the once-magnificent Stohess District.
Piles of rubble and charred wood had been stacked high and away from the carriage's path, towering bleakly behind the entranced citizens. Multi-colored tarps stretch over the gaping holes of several buildings, shielding their inhabitants from prying eyes.
Eren and Annie…did all this?
The sting of unshed tears blurs her vision as her carriage passes through the packed streets of eager spectators. In spite of the devastation around them, the people had gathered along the road cheering and waving at the royal carriage as it rode by.
Several women clasped their hands together, heads bowed in awed concentration while a few reverently laid down wreaths and bouquets of flowers along the carriage's path. Several men proudly beam and wave with a few straining to catch a glimpse of the petite queen through the carriage windows. In the distance, military police officers and garrison soldiers stand frozen behind equally-distracted laborers, seemingly transfixed by the royal procession.
Blue eyes tighten shut in frustration as she remembers witnessing an eerily similar scene through the gap in the wagon's tarp as she and Eren had ridden through the ruins of the Trost District. Her fists clench as she recalls the festive flags and banners adorning the crumbling remains of the recovering city. The sickening hope and gratitude in the people's faces as they sang King Fritz's praises while military policemen smugly doled out meager rations.
Was this…was this what Sannes had meant? It hasn't even been two weeks and they're already treating us like them.
"How much further to the hospital?" The Queen asks turning to face her assistant.
"Your grace? Will you not rest first?"
"No," Queen Historia insists, small hands clench tighter on her lap as white-hot anger slices through her petite frame. "How can I rest when there is so much work to do? Tell the carriage man to take us to the first hospital. I want to see how I can help."
"Yes, your majesty." The Queen leans back in her chair as the assistant taps the sliding window leading to the front of the carriage. As the assistant relays the Queen's message, the blonde returns her attention to the decimated city around her.
Was this what Armin meant when he said that to fight monsters we had to abandon our humanity? That if it wasn't worth sacrificing then it wasn't worth holding onto in the first place?
"Historia," her lover had sighed exasperatedly. "Think of all the people who died to see you on the throne. We owe them—"
"We owe it to them to rule fairly and honestly. The old King was a fraud and a puppet, meant to deceive the very subjects who pledged and sacrificed their lives for him. There are people who died thinking that the king was a just and fair ruler instead of the manipulative coward that he was. That the government that doomed them was concerned with humanity's wellbeing! Imagine all the little lies the prior administration used to rationalize and justify every monstrous act it committed for the so-called sake of humanity. When I took this crown I pledged to carve my own path. I vowed to right decades of selfish and deceitful leadership. And I don't intend on stopping now."
She furrows her brows as her jaw tightens with renewed resolve. The carriage slows to a halt in front of an imposing gray building nestled in the heart of the city. Compared to the other buildings she had passed along the way, the buildings here had survived the titan-shifters' clash largely intact.
Without waiting for the footman, she swings the carriage door open, hitching up her flowing white robes as she jumps down. A team of medics stops to watch her in bemusement before crying out in surprise as they recognize the gleam of her tiara. Queen Historia steps forward, catching one of the nurses by the shoulder as the woman begins to lower herself into a deferential bow.
"Please," the nurse gasps as the blonde smiles kindly at her. "I'm here to help, but I can't work like this."
"B-but your majesty," her assistant protests as she clamors to separate her from the stunned nurse. "The press could arrive at any moment, once word gets out that we stopped here first. They won't be able to recognize you without your robes and tiara."
"I don't care," Queen Historia shrugs as she takes off her cloak, pausing briefly to drape it neatly over her forearm before returning her attention to the puzzled nurse. "Could you help me, please? I need a change of clothes and a place to change."
"Of course, your majesty!" The nurses cry out in unison, dipping into a low bow before hurrying to clear a path for the Queen. The first nurse leads her to a large changing room on the first floor where she and her colleagues quickly dig out a suitable uniform for the Queen's tiny frame.
Queen Historia accepts the uniform with a grateful nod and begins to strip, prompting the nurses and attendants to screech and cry out as they clamor to exit the room, intent on giving the monarch privacy. The blonde stares at them for several moments in bemusement before returning to her chore with a shrug. Pausing briefly to examine her reflection in the mirror as she fastens her blonde locks into a loose ponytail, Historia exits the room with brisk, purposeful strides.
"Don't tell me you're just arriving for your shift young lady!" A middle-aged nurse barks sternly as the blonde exits the room. Queen Historia turns to face the woman and immediately stands at attention once she recognizes the head matron's badge.
"I-I'm sorry head ma—"
"Sorry for yourself. Get to work immediately before I write you up for being tardy!"
"Yes, ma'am!" It takes the Queen several moments to recognize the surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins as she scampers toward the nurses' station. It was the first time in weeks anyone had spoken to her like that. Even though she knew that the head matron was most likely deceived by her disguise, it was refreshing to be treated like everyone else for a change.
She quickly makes her way to the back of a growing line of nurses standing in front of the nurses' station. A nurse unceremoniously shoves a clipboard into her hands when she finally reaches the counter.
"Um, sorry, what do I do with—"
"Your assignments. Check in on them and bring it back once you've completed their charts," the nurse snaps impatiently as she turns her attention to the nurse behind her. Historia sheepishly steps aside, lowering her eyes toward the printed characters on her clipboard with a confused frown.
"Here, I'll show you," the nurse behind her offers kindly as she accepts her clipboard in turn. Historia follows her towards a nearby ward with a grateful smile.
"I'm sorry, it's my first day—"
"It's alright. Don't let Sister Grace get to you. She's like that with everyone. Especially newbies." Historia's smile broadens as the nurse extends her hand. "I'm Michelle. What's your name?"
"Christa," the name falls from her lips with practiced ease.
"What a lovely name," Michelle opines with a sigh. "Where did you train?"
"Um, I haven't really received any training," Historia admits with a blush. "Apart from basic first aid, I'm mostly self-taught."
"Ah, a volunteer huh? Happy to have you." Michelle beams. "Stick with me and our rounds will go by in a breeze."
True to her word, the next four hours passed by in a dizzying blur of grimacing faces and sterilized wards. When they weren't redressing patients' wounds and handing out medication, they were wheeling patients in and out of operating rooms. By lunchtime, Historia's limbs were so heavy with fatigue that it was all she could do not to cry.
"I never thought being a nurse would be so hard," the blonde admits as she gingerly lowers her stiff frame unto her bench. Michelle turns to give her a sympathetic smile before returning to her meal.
"It wasn't always like this. Before the disaster I mean. It was busy but this…this is madness." Michelle shakes her head.
"How long have you been a nurse?"
"Four years now, I've never seen anything like this. This must be what those poor bastards that get stuck with Survey Corps survivors must feel like after every expedition." Michelle sighs. Historia nods quietly but offers no opinion on the matters as she is reminded of the disastrous conclusion of the Fifty-Seventh Expedition Beyond the Walls.
"After this, do you want to go look at the royal carriage?" Michelle wonders as they finish their meal. "It arrived this morning and some of the other nurses said that they saw the queen herself enter the hospital but no one's seen or heard from her since then."
"Oh," Historia mutters suddenly self-conscious.
"Don't you want to see what she looks like?" Michelle presses, nudging her shoulder with a mischievous grin. "I've heard that she's very beautiful, even though she's a little tiny and young."
"Not really," Historia shrugs nonchalantly prompting Michelle to shoot her a puzzled look. "I-I already saw her. Well, sort of."
"Really? Oh wow! So lucky. Well then, come on, don't you want to see her again? It will be fun! Please?!" Michelle begs. Historia lets out a small sigh before finally relenting.
They quickly clear up their plates and begin to make their way towards the front door but stop when they notice a large group of military policemen marching through the front doors. Historia's breath hitches as she spots the head matron engrossed in an intense conversation with a police captain.
"What do you suppose all the fuss is about?" Michelle wonders as she cranes her neck for a better view.
"I don't know. But I don't like the look of this." Historia freezes as she watches the royal assistant join the pair with a pile of familiar clothes.
"Those look like the queen's robes!" A nearby nurse gasps to her friend as they pause to watch the scene.
"I told you that I saw her enter the hospital this morning!" The friend shoots back triumphantly. "She was surrounded by a group of night-shift nurses leaving and they came in through the east wing."
"But where did she go?" The friend shrugs in response.
"Can we go now?" Historia asks as she approaches the nurses' station to receive a new clipboard.
"Hang on a minute," Michelle mutters distractedly as she continues watching the head matron and captain.
"Young lady!" Historia freezes as the head matron's voice slices through the hallway plunging the entire floor in silence. "You there, by the counter." Before the blonde can slip into the crowd, the head matron closes the distance and grabs her by her forearm.
"Y-yes head matron?" Historia stutters as their eyes meet. Her gaze trails to a military police captain who is watching them closely now.
"Come with me." Surprised murmurs follow them as the head matron leads the petite blonde up a flight of stairs and through a crowded corridor before ushering her into a large circular office. The blonde's heart sinks as she turns to find the military police captain entering the office behind them.
"Take off your bonnet," he instructs as the blonde's eyes fall on the gleaming tiara cradled within his long fingers. Historia wordlessly obeys but takes a step back when he moves to approach her.
"Let me," the head matron offers, reaching for the tiara. He turns to give her a pointed look prompting her to retreat with a meek nod.
"Your majesty," he gasps as he lowers the tiara unto her head.
"Your grace I'm so sorr—" the head matron begins to apologize as she dips into a reverent bow.
Queen Historia silences her with a flick of her hand, urging her to her feet with a kind smile.
"Leave us," the captain orders prompting the newly-humbled head matron to scamper from the room without so much as a backward glance.
"Forgive me, your grace," the captain apologizes as he rises to his full height. "I am Captain Dennis Lindberg-Lane."
"Captain," the Queen acknowledges with a nod as she prepares to remove her crown. "I have to get back to work."
"Queen Portia sent me to see you." She freezes at this, blue eyes tight with suspicion. "She wonders why you are taking so long to accept her invitation."
"Oh?" Historia sighs arching an eyebrow in spite of herself.
"You didn't know, did you?" The Captain chuckles dryly shaking his head. "Figures."
"Why should I believe you?" Queen Historia asks not bothering to conceal her skepticism.
"Because your Captain Levi sent us." Blue eyes widen at this.
"What are you talking about?" She asks backing away from him once more as she secretly notes possible escape routes.
"A few days ago, my associates in the underground city made contact with your lapdog and his cronies." Captain Lindberg-Lane explains. "At first we were skeptical and understandably confused when he asked us to meet him in this city, armed and prepared to raise hell. But now it all makes sense."
"Really? Because you're the one who isn't making any sense now. Why would Captain Levi betray me and give you my location?"
"Can't you see, your grace? Oh, open your eyes, your majesty!" He cries out with a bark of laughter. "We've both been played by that serpent Schaeffer!"
"What do you mean? Are you trying to say that your queen did not write that nasty letter?!" The queen scoffs. Captain Lindberg-Lane shakes his head.
"She did but, she only wrote it out of anger and confusion," he explains. "It was never meant to be delivered to you. I can only guess that Schaeffer saw to it."
"Why? What's the point of her playing us?"
"To win your favor!" He hisses exasperatedly. "She and her allies cast queen Portia as a villain—a villain only they can help you be rid of while she poisons Portia's perception of you, hardening her resolve with lies and false promises."
"False promises like what?"
"A secret army waiting to rise up and challenge you for the throne," he replies without hesitation. "While it is true that Kenny Ackermann recruited and trained a secret army in the underground city, he never armed them and left me in charge of calling them to arms when the time was right. But now I know that our cause is a lost one."
"Why should I believe you? What proof do you have that anything you say is true?"
"I can take you to her, to queen Portia. Right now. I know where she is and she asked me to bring you if it was necessary to earn your trust." The blonde hesitates at this. "What? You've been trying to arrange a meeting with her all this time, haven't you? You don't want any more bloodshed, do you?"
"Shut up and let me think!" the Queen snarls turning to pace the room as her mind works furiously to comprehend all that had happened.
"When it comes to people like Dana Schaeffer, you have to be a sheep amongst wolves, wise as a serpent yet as innocent as a dove."
Captain Levi never trusted her so it's safe to assume that neither does Commander Ervin—and his instincts are exceptionally good. If what he's saying is true then that would explain a lot of things. If Judge Schaeffer is really trying to stir up conflict between I and the former queen for her own benefit that would explain why she delivered the letter Queen Portia wrote to Commander Ervin. She had to have known that we would naturally see it as a threat on my life and we would immediately go on the offensive.
But the army…Kenny's army…
Focus Historia! Focus!
If they had wanted to start a war, why would they wait for the Survey Corps to regain its strength and solidify its hold on power? Captain Lindberg-Lane would have easily given the order and used his troops to overwhelm the Scouts and Garrison especially when they were distracted by the Orvud Operation. It would have been easy to kill me and make it look like an accident on the battlefield. But they didn't…Why?
"What's the problem? Why does she need more convincing?"
"Your Majesty, I did tell you that it would not be easy to persuade her. She is fearful for her life even more so given the recent developments in the—"
There was no proof that Judge Schaeffer was doing anything to convince queen Portia, despite her claiming otherwise.
"What recent developments?" Queen Historia had asked prompting Judge Schaeffer to suddenly avert her gaze. "What are you talking about?"
"Well, rumor has it that someone has offered a hefty reward for your predecessor's head…A full and unconditional pardon along with a written permit to live within Wall Sheena."
"That's not possible." She had insisted, shaking her head in disbelief. "Only the monarchy can issue permits to live within Wall Sheena and all pardons must be personally approved by me. I can assure you, I would have immediately vetoed that proposal the minute it was revealed."
"I believe you, your Majesty. Your visage betrays a surprisingly genuine warmth and compassion that I recognized the moment we first met. I know that you would never betray your promise to me because you are kind and gentle at heart."
"You think the military is behind this?" In hindsight, Judge Schaeffer's machinations now seemed as plain as the nose on her face as the queen shakes her head in silent anger.
"To be honest, I'm not surprised by this move at all. This is classic Ervin Smith. I'm only surprised that it took him this long to act out on it."
"Act out on what?" She remembered pressing on in spite of her better judgment.
"I'm afraid…it must be seen. Words alone will not do it justice, I assure you, your majesty, if my lips could adequately surmise the barbaric acts of your allies, I would command the words from them—if only to spare you this traumatic encounter."
But Levi really did place a bounty on Queen Portia's head. Section Commander Hange confirmed it when I confronted her and the others about torturing those people.
"At a time he was, but only for a brief assignment. You see Lord Lovof had hired Levi and his goons to assassinate Commander Ervin. When the plot failed, Lord Lovof had killed Yan and the other members of Levi's gang who were privy to his involvement. He even tried to kill Levi at a time, before I finally convinced him to give up and focus his efforts elsewhere."
There was no proof that the rumored bounty on queen Portia's head even exists. And even if it does, there's no proof that Levi himself placed it on her. Anyone who knows of his past with Lovof could have framed him. If Judge Schaeffer could lie about talking to queen Portia on my behalf, why wouldn't she lie about this too?
"Take me to her," Queen Historia orders as she turns to find Captain Lindberg-Lane watching her quietly. "It's time to put an end to this once and for all."
The tower looms ominously in the glow of the quarter-moon as the gentle trickle of a nearby lake drowns the din of galloping hooves. Although it is far grander in height and scale, Queen Historia is eerily reminded of the ruins of Utgard Castle. Through the light mist hanging in the air, the Queen made out several brightly illuminated windows lining the tower's topmost level. Its dark blue shingles and white walls remind her instead of a painting of a tower she had seen in one of her mother's books many years ago.
A large finger strays into her line of sight, prompting the blonde to lower her hood ever so slightly as she turns to appraise its owner.
"There's a secret entrance at the bottom only a few of us know about." Captain Lindberg-Lane explains as he rides beside her. "Once we reach the base, I will have to blindfold you."
"I understand," she offers curtly without hesitation.
They finally reach the edge of the lake where a rickety boat waits to ferry them towards the island that makes up the tower's base. After alighting from her horse, the Queen scans the surrounding forestry for any signs that they had been followed. Satisfied to find them completely alone, she quietly joins Captain Lindberg-Lane aboard the boat. Once they reach the tiny island, the captain secures their boat before blindfolding her. He spins her around several times to disorient her, effectively preventing her from discerning the secret entrance's location as he leads her through it.
An eerie gust follows them through the threshold as he pauses to shut the door behind them. The steady echoes of their footsteps accompany them as they ascend a circular flight of seemingly endless stairs. As they near the top, the warmth, and crackle of a nearby fire reach them, followed by the muffled sounds of lightly conversing voices.
In spite of herself, the blonde jumps ever so slightly as the Captain taps his knuckles harshly against the wooden door. There is a pause followed by the telltale creak of a heavy door as a wave of warmth wafts over them, inviting them in. Historia stands silently, listening intently as the once-muffled voices fall still around her. When Captain Lindberg-Lane finally lowers the blindfold, she is relieved to finally find herself face to face with a tall slender brunette dressed in flowing white robes.
"I know your face," Historia mumbles quietly.
"You are brave to come here alone," her predecessor greets as a guard hastily pats the blonde down. "And unarmed?"
"I'm just glad to finally meet you face to face."
"You're a lot smaller than I imagined," Portia muses as she studies her with a distracted tilt of her head. "Skinnier and prettier too." The blonde shifts uncomfortably as she manages a half-shrug in response.
"So," Historia pauses with a small shrug. "What now?"
"Now…we negotiate."
"The only thing I'm interested in negotiating is your surrender," Historia informs her bluntly. "I will not accept anything less."
"I need assurances," Portia states curtly. "Protection for my entire family."
"Captain Lindberg-Lane tells me that you wrote the letter but did not mean to send it."
"I was angry," Portia sighs turning to settle down unto a nearby couch. "Imagine walking in your garden, preparing to head in for lunch when your children fly to your side in tears telling you that their father has been arrested for high treason."
"I understand more than you know." Portia's hazel eyes narrow at this as she nods in agreement. "I watched my father's minions slice my mother's throat right in front of me."
"Was that why you became a soldier?" Portia inquires, genuinely intrigued.
"I became a soldier because I had no choice. It was the only way to survive and escape from that hell."
"I believe you," the older woman sighs after some consideration. "My friends tell me that the inquisition is already underway." Historia nods. "Will my husband be executed?"
"I don't know." Queen Historia admits before stepping forward to assure her. "But there is still time. I can still protect him. If you and your allies surrender I will pardon and protect your husband and the rest of your family."
"Oh? What makes you so sure?" Hazel eyes watch her alight with skepticism. "Within these cramped walls, how can we ever be free from you and your allies?"
"The military needs me, they would not dare oppose me." Portia rises to her feet with a loud acerbic cackle.
"Your Majesty, I fear they already have." The blonde allows confusion to twist her eyebrows as she watches her predecessor calmly. Queen Portia walks slowly toward a nearby bench shaking her head before lowering herself unto it with a heavy sigh. "What a farce."
"What is?"
"All of it!" The imposter roars. "You, your regime, your little tribunal—it's all designed to deceive and placate the masses."
"You're wrong!" The Queen's voice is a lot more forceful than she had intended as she crosses the room to grab her predecessor by the shoulders.
"You are the head of the Chancellery and yet here you are on some bogus tour while the tribunal continues without you. Tell me, your Grace, don't you find it a little odd? Or haven't you deduced the tour's true purpose yet?"
"I wanted to go on tour. This was my decision. I wanted an opportunity to introduce myself to the people," Historia insists forcefully. "To show them that even though I am now their Queen, I have always and will always be a simple farm girl from Wall Rose who will do everything to ease their pain and suffering."
"Then you are a perfect fool. Don't you see?!" Queen Portia scoffs with a bitter shake of her head as she slaps Historia's hands away. "Open your eyes, your majesty. It is all meant to be a diversion. You are the distraction sent to occupy and pacify the masses while the military strengthens its grasp on power by quietly eliminating the opposition."
The blonde crosses her arms, blue eyes gleaming with fierce defiance as she meets the older woman's gaze.
"Are you really any better? You and your allies deceived and slaughtered everyone you saw as a threat to your power. If you had your way you would kill me and wipe away all the progress the Scouts have been able to achieve from humanity's memory. Setting us hundreds of years back!"
Shadows dance across the impostor's austere features as they slowly but surely slacken with derision. The Queen moves to turn away in disgust but freezes as she catches a glimpse of her reflection in a nearby mirror. Blue eyes taut with defiant anger, tiny fists balled defensively, small shoulders squared in determination. She is reminded of that moment when she rose from the broken cart, declaring her identity to a growing crowd of stunned onlookers as the remnants of her father exploded in the sky above.
"Oh? Are you trying to do something good?" Ymir's voice slices through the recesses of her subconscious.
"Ymir!"
"Christa…I have no business telling you how to live your life. It's not my place." Ymir had stated bluntly, long fingers clenched around the gleaming blade of Connie's knife. "So I guess when you really break it down, this is really more of a hope." Behind her, the gleam of the rising sun bathes the taller girl in an ethereal glow, forcing the blonde to squint up at her. "Christa, live a life you can be proud of."
Those words wistfully spoken atop the crumbling ruins of Utgard Castle in their hour of despair had spurred her to see through her father's machinations days later and reject his designs for her and humanity. Now they allowed her to see through the wool she had drawn over her own eyes, to recognize and confront her own hypocrisy.
"Why?" Her voice wavers as she falls to her knees shaking with anger and frustration. "After all this time, I thought I was stronger now. I thought was better than this?! How dare I justify what my comrades have done on my account? How dare I accept it when I condemned my father for doing the exact same thing?!"
Queen Portia sank to her knees beside her, leaning forward to embrace the petite blonde's trembling shoulders with a sympathetic sigh. Historia begins to lift her hands to wrap around the older woman's shoulder but freezes as she catches sight of a flaming missile hurtling through the open window behind them.
"Take cover now!" Historia cries out as she shoves her predecessor to the floor.
The missile crashes into a bookshelf beside them, immediately engulfing it and the surrounding furniture with angry red flames that quickly spread throughout the circular room.
No I'm not dead. These past couple of weeks have been very crazy for me so I haven't been able to write until now.