There was a white spot in the Danish woman's memory, not allowing her to remember how exactly she had found herself on the shore of the lake in the back garden of Hans. The last memory she had was the crude gesture she had shown the Austrian man. In her anger, she hadn't noticed when her feet had carried her to the very place she used to come all those years ago when she wanted to be alone.
''And I was beginning to think I will never see you again, Merete. You know, not all of us are immortal and have the time to wait for you.'' Turning around, the blonde's eyes were met by a pair of blue ones, belonging to an elderly woman. The dress that hung on her body, she could recognize the style and by that, by whom it was designed. There was only one person whom she knew who would wear a self-designed clothes to such an event. Merete observed as the woman brought her hand to her mouth, taking a swig from a cigarette.
''And I thought that cigarettes were bad for your health, Margrethe.'' Merete could not help but smile at the sight of her beloved queen, stepping closer to the old woman. In a moment of happiness, all her worries and anger was forgotten as she embraced the other. ''You promised me you would not smoke anymore, and there we go, we were both mistaken in our assumptions.''
''Is it the years that affect your memory, Merete? I look older than you and yet, I can recall that it was you who taught me how to smoke.'' The queen responded once she had wrapped her arms around the nation. ''I am so glad that you are back.'' The sound was barely above a whisper, yet, Merete could hear clearly the emotion in Margrethe's voice. Soon enough, that was masked by a laugh as the monarch spoke again. ''Can you imagine what chaos was in the first year without you? Harald and Dagmar drove me insane, more than I already am at this age, and Mikkel was not helping at all.''
A laugh escaped the red lips of the younger-looking Dane at the mention of her siblings, still keeping Margrethe in her embrace. She had noticed that the cigarette was dropped onto the ground now and stepped over by a royal shoe as the queen had both her arms around Merete.
''It seems like yesterday when you were babysitting me, then my children and the first of my grandchildren. But look at you now, you are no longer dependent on the royal family, having a daughter on your own and raising her. She is quite the intelligent young lady, I must say, coming to me and gently tugging on my dress to tell me I was her favourite queen.'' Merete smiled brightly at the mention of her daughter and was about to ask her about her whereabouts, but she was interrupted as the elder woman spoke up once again.''Don't worry about her, she is with Mary, I would not leave the daughter of a dear friend unattended. Christian seems quite smitten with her, walking after her like a puppy.''
''However, I am not here just to talk, Merete.'' The tone of the queen had now become harder and she let go of the nation, looking up at the taller woman. ''It is not my place to tell you what to do, my dear friend, but you cannot grieve forever. You have your share of duties to carry on and you cannot expect your siblings to do it for you forever. Your place is not in some small cottage house in Skagen, your place is in Amalienborg, next to me and to Henrik.''
Merete wanted to stop listening to the woman, she did not want to return. She would face the judgement of the people she left there, she would face her siblings, she would face everything she feared once she returned. A single tear rolled down her pale skin, quickly wiping it away with her finger and resumed to listening to the queen.
''I am not pressuring you to do anything, my old friend, but it is a choice you have to cannot simply exclude yourself from the place where you belong because of something like that. Do not look at that marriage as something terrible, instead, look at it as something beautiful, producing Anniken along the way. Tell me, it is not the first time your heart was broken, yes, but have you given up in the past? Tell me, my friend,'' Margrethe's voice had returned to its previous soft tone now. '' did your broken heart stop you from winning the Kalmar war? Did that scar from flames that adore your side stop you from slaughtering those who threatened your territory? All those stories you told me when I was young, tales of love, betrayal and victory, were they all a lie? Was the brave Merete, the warrior, a lie? Did you hide away after a hundreds' years love ended by betrayal, my dear friend? No. This cannot stop you now, Merete, and you know that very well. Please, return to your family. Only god knows how much they need you. And Roderich is not the only man in the world, my dear. I may be only a mere human, with a limited time on this earth, but for one, I know that a love that had burned for hundreds of years leaves traces.''
The words that left the white haired woman's mouth held no cryptic meaning to the other and yet, she refused to acknowledge them. Some things were to be left as they were, she thought to herself.
''I will think about it, my dear old friend.''