AN: Another interlude before the final few chapters! This one is Elizabeth-centric, so as to explore more in depth the monarch for whom all the people you've seen fight so far are fighting for. I hope you enjoy it! - MB
Also, grats to Harlequin320 on being the first to ask whether Project Valkyrie is the project that created the CO.R.E.'s. The answer is: Yes, it is.
I was disappointed, however, that no one questioned the power of Harry's CO.R.E. I mean, I think I've established he's powerful, but not so powerful as to maintain an illusion thousands of miles away. Therefore, his claiming of making the Death Eaters believe that Clarke was on their side was a fib--Clark was just that good an actor and informant.
Why did I choose to have Harry claim this? Simply because it fit into Harry's intent to psychologically destroy the willpower of the remaining Death Eaters. If they thought he was so powerful as to maintain an illusion over thousands of people thousands of miles away, they would simply give up, feeling hopeless after the loss of their own strongest fighters.
It's how Harry works. In order to lower his own casualties, he makes sure the backbone of the enemy is shattered to minimize resistance.
Hope that clears things up. Cheers!
Our greatest glory is not in never failing, but in rising up every time we fail. – Ralph Waldo Emerson
Chaos.
That was the only real way to describe the scene before James Potter as he looked out his office door. Everyone within the Imperial Department of Logistics and Transportation was going crazy in order to meet the insanely close deadlines for the mobilization of the entire army. That Harry had not chosen to publicly divulge the plans to the trap that had killed the Death Eaters made it worse—making for weeks, if not months of paperwork that needed to be filed retroactively.
Already he had needed to approve of 52 leaves of absences after the people in question had broken down in tears at the workload awaiting them. Mobilizing an army, after all, was a damn hard thing to do, and the paperwork that came with it was just evil. That, to top everything, they had to then do it again in order to mobilize the resources necessary to launch a massive invasion into Scotland…well, that was just spiteful.
Still, it was their job to do it, and so James did it.
"Oi, Patterson!" he shouted out his office. "Where's that damn form I asked half an hour ago?!"
"Patterson's gone, chief!" replied another of his subordinates. "McLean noticed we ran out of the L-76 Forms and had him fetch some more!"
James goggled. "But I asked for an IG-43 Form!" he protested, bewildered. The man shrugged.
"Perkins' division ran out of the L-76 Forms two hours ago, it was Patterson's turn to fetch new ones," noted yet another subordinate as he passed by, trying to be helpful.
"Who's going to get me the L-76 Form, then?" asked James. "If I don't get that one done soon, we're going to be working overtime again if we're going to be able to work on the J-99 Forms tomorrow!"
Most of his staff blanched at the thought, and James could have sworn he heard a sob or two. He dearly hoped he didn't have to give any more leaves of absences, otherwise they'd be short staffed.
And for a Civil Service department, that was saying something.
"LARAMIE!" yelled one of his division chiefs. "Get the boss an L-76 Form NOW!"
"But I'm working on the MS-54 Forms!" complained the man in question. "Can't Holden do it?"
"Can't!" shouted Holden as he barrelled past James, a stack of papers about half his height in his arms. "Crews will have my head if I'm anymore late in giving in these forms!"
James just couldn't bring himself to be surprised at the absolute chaos in his office.
"Smith is back!" came the cry. "Looks like more papers, boys!"
A collective whimper rang through the room. Most of them had lost all feeling in their hands, given the enormity of the task at hand. "Patterson is back too!"
That sounded promising. "What's he doing?" asked James loudly.
"Looks like he's headed towards Perkins' division, boss!" replied the subordinate on lookout duty. "No, wait, Jackson's got to him. Looks like he's going back to his car!"
James sighed in irritation. "Is anyone able to get me that damn form?" he growled.
"Hey, I can see Undersecretary Haussmann!"
James brightened up. His second in command was back! Maybe now he could get some work done.
"No, wait, Jackson's got to him, too! He's headed towards Peterson's division!"
"What the hell is Jackson even doing in the parking lot?!" demanded James. "Someone go and tell him to clear out before I introduce him to the business end of my wand!"
"Who, boss?" Laramie asked rhetorically as he whizzed by, arms chock-full of forms. "We're all so busy, it's a damn miracle we can even leave the room."
"SOMEONE JUST GET ME THAT DAMN FORM!" he roared.
A piece of paper falling on James' desk caught his attention. It was, as he had requested, the IG-43 form. He was about to thank the person responsible when the thanks died in his throat, replaced by constant choking as he gazed upon the Queen herself, who had let herself in and had listened and observed the chaos in the Ministry.
"M-Majesty!" he croaked out finally, bowing low to the Head of State of the Empire.
The 16-year old monarch had an ironic smile on her lips as she watched James Potter almost fall over himself trying to apologize for the chaos in the Ministry. It was always so amusing to watch the normally unflappable and almost mythic Potter family members act human.
"I figured I should observe the workings of my Ministries," she gave by way of explanation when prompted by James. "After all, what kind of monarch has no idea how their own country works?"
She had to refrain from glowing with pleasure when James smiled approvingly at her. The Potters had always made her feel somewhat inferior and unneeded, especially as they essentially ran the government behind the scenes. In the army was the legendary Harry Potter, scion and heir of the Potter family, and a Duke in his own right. In the Ministries were James Potter and Ginny Potter; the former the Minister of Logistics and Transportation, and the latter the wife of Harry Potter and the top spy and assassin in the Imperial Department of Military and Civilian Information. Then, in Parliament, was Matthew Potter, the oldest of the adopted twins that James and Lily had taken in; Matthew was, in his own right, an elected Independent, but always seemed to be able to sway Parliament one way or another with his stirring rhetoric.
So where did she, the Queen, come in?
It was a question that plagued her so much, so often, that she wondered at times that she had not gone mad. Though she was not powerless, and her influence still counted for something, she saw how most of Parliament or her ministers simply looked towards the Potters for directions. The only one who didn't, obviously enough, was Dumbledore—but then the old wizard had been a staunch opponent of both hers and the Potters' since the very beginning. Well, at least he'd been behaving himself.
The Queen snorted softly to herself as she walked out of the Ministry, still entertaining that thought. Dumbledore certainly had the ability to make others believe that he was harmless. Ever since his speedy fall from grace, he had retreated from the limelight and was covertly rebuilding his influence, if her sources were correct. That didn't mean he was a threat to her, or to the Potters, though; if anything, his following contained none of the previous Order, and consisted mainly of the few wizards and witches that quietly resented the union of the magical and real world, even if they would never admit it openly.
That, of course, meant Dumbledore had to be watched a little more than usual, but otherwise meant nothing drastic had to be done.
She smiled at the carriage driver as the young man helped her into the open-aired vehicle. She was not a particular fan of cars, and since it was quick enough to move around Harrisburg by walking (which most did), she had insisted that if she had to have a mode of transportation that had wheels, she chose a carriage. It was slow enough that she could easily order it to stop and so talk to her people, and yet quick enough that getting to the Central Island wouldn't take more than fifteen minutes—ten, if she had the driver go fast.
Elizabeth had to repress a giggle as the handsome young man blushed at her smile. She was well aware of the reaction that men her age had towards her, and while she had fun teasing them, she always knew not to take it too far. She was, after all, unmarried still, and knew better than to alienate her people by becoming a loose woman.
She kept a dignified posture as the open carriage wheeled through the streets of Harrisburg, every once in a while waving at her people, who cheered or shouted out "God save the Queen!" as she passed by.
It was so weird, she thought to herself as she was wheeled by her people. It was nothing like how London had been. Instead of seeing just men and women in suits or in varied, sometimes absurdly revealing, clothing, her people had seemingly regressed in fashion. It was difficult to conciliate the past with her present, but even she was unsure as to whether this was a bad thing. After all, the people in Harrisburg seemed to her to be much happier.
Perhaps regression in some aspects was a good thing, she reasoned. After all, change for the sake of change seemed more like playing Russian Roulette than a logical course of action.
She broke from her thoughts as the carriage went by a gaggle of schoolchildren who seemed to be on an outing of some sort with their teacher. Elizabeth had been singled out by the teacher, and now the children were waving at her excitedly, much to Elizabeth's amusement. She quietly ordered the driver to stop, and was helped down from the carriage, her cyan coloured dress billowing slightly in the pleasant, noon breeze.
With a smile, she approached the children, and a subtle nod to the teacher told the woman it was okay to let the children near her. Her security detail, she knew, would be watching discreetly anyway. She wouldn't have been surprised to know that they were already close by, in fact.
The young, teenaged monarch smiled and laughed with the children as the little ones bombarded her with their innocent questions. Even the girls seemed to like Elizabeth, commenting how pretty her dress was, or how pretty she was in general. The male kids, for their part, seemed to have cute crushes on her, trying their best to get her attention with all sorts of antics that made the Queen giggle.
She loved children. Even in the darkest of times, they could find almost insatiable energy. They were always curious, asking questions and poking around. She often wondered how much farther the human race would have advanced if everyone retained that childish curiosity throughout their lives, instead of settling for a monotonous routine.
Soon, a cough from her driver discreetly informed her that it was time to go, as she had an appointment to attend to. Smiling at the children, she apologized as she informed them she had to leave, to their dismay—they had liked the funny, pretty older sister. They all waved at her in farewell enthusiastically as her carriage moved on, with Elizabeth smilingly waving back until they were out of sight.
Elizabeth sighed in pleasure at the moment she had been allowed to take with the children. After all, it was rare, if even that, to see children in the Palace. Only whenever Ginny and Harry couldn't find a babysitter did they bring their adorable little daughter with them. The redheaded, jade-eyed daughter of the Duke and Duchess was also intimate friends with her normally stoic guards, she had found out, and most of them seemed to enjoy the future Duchess' presence.
"Majesty, we're here."
Elizabeth looked at her surroundings to see that they had indeed arrived at the Imperial Ministry of War and Defence. There was simply no mistaking the huge building which housed the administrative and operational headquarters of the Imperial war machine. Courteously let down from her carriage by her driver, Elizabeth daintily made her way towards the Ministry double doors, which were opened by the guards on duty well before she arrived. Both of them saluted their Queen as she passed by, and she returned the sign of respect with a courteous nod, her driver right behind her.
"Ah, Majesty!" Elizabeth looked ahead to see a man in his early forties striding towards her, an amiable smile on his face. It was Undersecretary Guiles.
"Mister Undersecretary," acknowledged Elizabeth politely, her driver giving the Undersecretary a short nod.
"It's so good to see you in good health, Majesty!" gushed the man, either really meaning it, or proving what a consummate actor he was. "You are undoubtedly here for the inspection?"
Elizabeth nodded. "I was advised that an appearance during the mobilization would go to great effects in raising morale," she told Guiles. "How much of the army is ready for departure?" she then asked.
Guiles shrugged as he led the Queen towards a room containing a large, round, metallic platform on the ground with a white cross made up of four daggers imprinted on the middle of it. "About twenty to twenty-five percent are deployed, Majesty. Our docks are working as fast as they can to get the ships resupplied and garrisoned with their designated troop loads."
Elizabeth nodded as she joined Guiles on the platform, her driver by her side. "Then full deployment should be ready—"
A short humming noise could be heard throughout the room before the three disappeared.
They then reappeared on a similar platform in a vastly different room.
"—by when, exactly?" finished the young monarch, as if used to this sort of transportation.
Guiles, too, seemed unshaken by the travel, although the Queen's driver seemed a bit queasy. Instead, he continued to lead the Queen off the platform, and towards the room beyond the door. "We should be done within the week, Majesty."
Elizabeth nodded once, and then put on a smile as she walked through the door to the far larger room on the other side. Everywhere, people were running around getting things done. The entire room was bustling with activity, and only those who passed nearby managed to get out of their tunnel vision to notice the Queen had arrived. Not that she blamed those that didn't—Elizabeth was well aware that the preparations for such massive mobilization would require and didn't begrudge them the focus they had. In fact, she admired their dedication.
Guiles led her to the windows at the front of the room, where the 50 or so Air Traffic Controllers were seated and were directing the horde of Imperial Airships in the air. Elizabeth for a moment wondered whether the orders for other ships could be heard by the people in the Airships, since the gaggle of orders were nearly deafening to her.
Once at the windows, and after a few cries of "Majesty!", Guiles swept his arms in front of him, as if introducing to her the vastness of her armed forces. "Here we are, Majesty!" he told her happily. "The full force of your Imperial might!"
Elizabeth smiled faintly at the man, who she knew meant well, but talked in a way that could be said to border on arrogance. She then focused her attention on the organized chaos down in the massive docks. All along the massive complex, she could see the long rectangles of the army Divisions marching up and down the pathways to the docked Airships. The ships themselves, moored to the docks, were massive in their own right, easily dwarfing their passengers several times over.
The people on the ground looked like ants to her, indicating just how far up the room was. She couldn't even make out a single cannon on the Airships, further indication of just how massive they were.
"Which unit is embarking there?" she asked, motioning to the rectangle of men and women in question. They were in the process of marching up the boarding ramp to the Airship HMIS Hunter.
Guiles looked pointedly at one of the controllers, who quickly looked it up and relayed it to the Undersecretary. "That would part of the Second Legion, Majesty."
Elizabeth nodded, her eyes on the group of soldiers as they slowly (well, to her sight anyway) made their way up the ramp. She couldn't help but feel sadness sweep over her. They were going to fight yet another foe in her name. That very idea made her feel guilty for all the deaths the Empire had suffered so far. After all, whenever these men and women charged the enemy, they often had her name on their lips. How many accounts had she heard of soldiers shouting, "For the Queen!" before their lives were cut short? How many had she heard had said, "I die for my Queen!"?
It tore at her heart, whenever she heard the stories. Certainly, she never showed more grief than was acceptable—after all, the people wanted a leader, not a blubbering mess. A humane leader, of course, but a leader nonetheless. The truth was, it ate at her heart a lot more than she showed whenever the reports of deaths came up.
To her credit, her conviction had not faltered despite it all. Instead, it cemented itself and refined itself into fine steel. Every death she heard of she merely put it on a mental list and saw them as one more person giving their lives for a better future. The Empire was right, she knew, and winning the war would be a huge step in propelling the human race into an age of prosperity. The only qualms she had was the high human toll they had to pay for that age of prosperity.
She turned her attention back to Guiles, who was seemingly content with letting the Queen inspect her troops, even if from a great distance away. Obviously, the man thought he had fulfilled his duties, and had done so well. Elizabeth couldn't fault him that train of thought. He had been courteous and differential towards her—carrying out protocol to the very last detail. She had no doubt that he would rise beyond the rank of Undersecretary some day.
"Where will I be addressing the troops?" she asked suddenly. Guiles seemed taken aback at her question. After all, it wasn't in the program.
"A-Address, Majesty?" he stuttered slightly, before quickly recovering. "But there was no such thing on the agenda!"
Yes, the man would rise fast within the Civil Service, Elizabeth had no doubt. A consummate by-the-book man.
"I am here, Mister Guiles," she reminded him. "And my people are about to march to war, where their lives may be lost. I think the least I can do is remind them that the Empire stands behind them to the very last."
Guiles had the decency to look ashamed, even though it was so brief it couldn't have lasted more than three seconds. He quickly rallied himself and seemed to delve into deep thought, as though considering the necessary steps to carry out the Queen's request. In fact, that was exactly what the greying man was doing.
"I suppose we could set up an impromptu rally down at the docks…" he conceded slowly. "It will take about two hours, though, Majesty. Are you sure you would be alright waiting that long?" he asked.
Elizabeth nodded firmly. "I have a duty to my people, Mister Guiles. If I cannot protect them all, then I must at least remind them that we stand together, even if not physically so."
Guiles nodded again, this time quickly, in a show of hasty agreement. Personally, he found the Queen's motives admirable, but the paperwork that would have to be done…oh dear, he didn't fancy telling his subordinates what was about to come their way. And Lord Potter would have to be informed…
Elizabeth was well attended to during the two hours it took to prepare everything. She had been shown to a nicely-furnished room, where she and her driver were waited on by a young woman who was obviously used to waitressing. To the girl's surprise (and maybe a bit of frustration), the Queen asked for nothing, perfectly content in waiting until the preparations were done. As a way to pass time more quickly, however, the Queen did engage the young waitress in curious conversation.
"…well, I can't say I really had this in mind when I graduated from college," admitted the young woman when prompted by the Queen. "But it's good pay, good hours, and occasionally good people."
Elizabeth smiled ironically. "I imagine that there are bad people included as well?" she asked knowingly.
The young waitress rolled her eyes. "Of course, Your Majesty," she agreed before sniffing derisively. "Pigs, the lot of 'em. Not enough I bring them their drink, they also feel the need to try and grab some!"
The Queen's driver seemed scandalized by the woman's uncouth words, but the Queen waved him off, finding the woman's refreshingly candid manner. "Have you spoken to your superior about it?" she asked.
The young woman rolled her eyes again, momentarily forgetting that her conversation partner wasn't her best friend, and they weren't at a pub. "'Course I have! What'd ya think he said? 'Nothing for it, unfortunately. Those men keep the docks runnin'!' is what he said!" she relayed to the Queen. "As if there aren't more decent blokes around strutting with loads of cash."
The Queen nodded along with the woman's complaint. Truthfully, she felt her heart go out for this young woman, whatever else she did outside of work. Sexual harassment stung the Queen particularly bad, and she was most zealous in her efforts to see it eradicated.
The conversation went on for the two hours it took for Guiles to come back, at which point, the Queen's driver seemed unnaturally thankful for the interruption. Any more of the two women talking and he would have broken down, so viciously were his sensibilities attacked. As the Queen passed by the bowing waitress, she quickly whispered some words that seemed to have a soothing and pleased effect on the young woman.
"Thank you, Majesty," had said the waitress before the Queen left the room entirely. Guiles had looked at the young monarch oddly for a moment, but decided to leave well enough alone. Instead, the professional bureaucrat led the Queen to an elevator, and then waited for the machine to take them down to ground level, something which took an amazing twenty seconds only.
There, Guiles led the Queen onto the docks, and Elizabeth was slightly taken aback by the sudden onrush of sea winds, bringing with them a distinctly salty smell. As they left the building proper, Elizabeth couldn't help but admire the massive frames of the Airships that made up her Air Fleet. They towered over her ominously, and she could feel a very sober appreciation for their destructive power.
"Over there, Majesty," pointed out Guiles, motioning to the hastily built platform near a growing crowd of soldiers. "The word has been circulated amongst the troops, and quite a few divisions have sworn to show up."
Elizabeth nodded, pleased, as she made her way to the platform and there took a seat, while Guiles moved forward towards the microphone. The soldiers had begun to buzz excitedly at the sight of their monarch, and Guiles was pleased to see that the Queen was happy with that.
Guiles knew he didn't have to do much to introduce the Queen, given who she was and the fact that they all knew her by face, at least. So, giving quick thanks for the attendance (even as more and more servicemen joined the crowd by the second), Guiles quickly handed over the stage to Elizabeth, who rose gracefully to her feet. As the two passed each other, Guiles gave a deferential bow and Elizabeth nodded back, sharply noticing that Guiles had tucked his hand in his pocket and hearing a clicking sound—a voice recorder, no doubt. She guessed that the recipient would probably be James Potter, since he was the Potter member in charge (albeit unofficially so) of overseeing and influencing the Ministries.
Once at the microphone, Elizabeth hesitated for a second before starting to speak. She knew she was nowhere near as rallying as the Duke in her oratory, but she also knew that to allow him to continue being the public face of the Empire meant that she would never get out from under his shadow. That, she could not allow. She was no one's pawn.
"My dear people," she started, her tone soothing and gentle; as a mother would speak to her children. Outside observers would have noted the oddity of this, considering the Queen was several years younger than most Imperial servicemen, but for some reason, it seemed to work for Elizabeth. "I thank you for taking the time to listen to my words, simple and candid as they may be."
"I am no great orator," she admitted to her people. "I am not the Duke, who can raise your spirits with a few words. I am but a girl of sixteen summers of age, and some of you have children older than I."
Guiles was feeling some worry now. Was it wise for the Queen to so heavily deprecate herself in public? It could form a blow against the institution of the Monarchy!
"But that matters little," she then said, taking Guiles by surprise. "I am not a common child. I did not have a common childhood. I was kidnapped, beaten, abused, and raped by the very men and women you fought for so long to defeat," she continued, and she could feel the righteous anger and horror rising in the soldiers before her at the mention of the crimes the Death Eaters had committed on their Queen. Many had speculated, but no one had given any confirmation, and now the Queen had, in few words, made real all the rumours that had circulated throughout the Empire. "…and for that, I owe you all a debt I will never be able to repay fully."
"I cannot fight as one of you, for I am not trained in combat," she continued, bravely, in Guiles' opinion, considering how weak and frail she was portraying herself to be. "And so I give you the one gift I can offer: solace."
That confused the elder bureaucrat. What could she possibly mean?
"All too often, brave men and women like yourselves fail in your duties not because you cannot do your jobs, but because the people you defend will not support you, and instead vilify you. I will not allow such a thing to happen," she declared. "Though you will be thousands of miles away, always know that Britannia will always support her most loyal sons and daughters! When the war is finally over, when peace finally returns, we will be waiting for you all with open arms and love, not scorn and ridicule!"
"You will not starve! You will not grow cold!" she declared firmly. "We will not allow it! On my Crown, I swear to you all that the Empire will look after you to the very last!"
Elizabeth felt some satisfaction when the soldiers in the crowd began to clap, some cheering at her as well. She knew it was nowhere near the rising speeches made by the Duke, but she had tried, and seemingly succeeded in doing her part. She was only sixteen, after all, and had still a lot to learn.
Behind her, Guiles had a different opinion of the events he had just seen. While the Queen saw a minor success, Guiles saw much more—he saw a hegemon in the rising. Turning off the recorder in his pocket, he watched as the Queen turned back towards him and walked up to him, a serious look on her face. So serious that it made Guiles slightly worried that she may have gotten an idea in her head he wouldn't much like.
He was right.
"Inform the Duke: I wish to accompany him on this final campaign."
Guiles had no chance to rebuff the ludicrous idea, she was down the stairs and amongst the soldiers before he could form a coherent sentence. Instead, Guiles ran towards the nearest secluded spot he could find and there took out his mobile phone, quickly dialling up the Duke's father, Lord James Potter.
"Hello?" asked the voice in the phone. "James Potter speaking."
"Lord Potter! Thank heavens I've reached you!" exclaimed Guiles. "This is Nigel Guiles, from the Ministry of War."
"Ah, yes—Guiles! Good to hear from you, old chap. What can I do for you?" asked James over the phone. "I trust the Queen's speech went off without a hitch?"
"That's just it precisely, Lord Potter, it went off perfectly!" reported Guiles. "Her Majesty's speech has committed the Ministries to fully supplying the campaign. She has sworn that there would be no shortages on the front lines!"
"Oh dear," replied James, although he didn't seem worried—rather, he seemed surprised. "Well, that shouldn't be a problem. We certainly have the stores to do that, if the supplies run short."
Guiles grudgingly agreed, but decided to abandon that line of thought for the more pressing matter. "Something else came up after the speech, Lord Potter."
"Oh? Something bad?"
"Depends," conceded Guiles. "Her Majesty has stated her desire to accompany the Duke on the British Campaign."
Silence reigned over the phone for a moment, before James eventually spoke up again. "Guiles, I'm going to pass you over to my son. Please hold for a second."
Guiles had to call upon years of professional experience not to gape at the opportunity to talk to the Duke of Halifax, even if only over the phone.
"Hello? This is Halifax speaking. Mister Guiles?"
"Y-Your G-Grace!" stuttered Guiles, despite his best attempts not to. "I-It's an honour!"
"Yes, yes. I need you to tell me what you told my father again. Did the Queen specifically ask to accompany me on the campaign?"
"Yes, Your Grace," confirmed Guiles, still sweating from the nerves.
"Hmm…" Guiles could hear the thoughtful noise over the phone. "Very well. Tell Her Majesty she will be assigned quarters on the Invincible."
"Y-Your Grace?" asked Guiles in shock. "We're letting her go?!"
Guiles heard a chuckle over the phone. "Guiles, it would do you well to remember that we haven't the authority to 'let' the Queen to anything. Her Majesty is our sovereign, and we must obey."
"Y-Yes, Your Grace," conceded Guiles, before hearing the Duke give his goodbyes, which the bureaucrat responded with in kind.
Shutting off the phone, Guiles allowed himself to stare off into space for a moment while he rallied himself. The Duke had actually submitted to the Queen's whims! Usually, he would have used his considerable oratory or influence to get her to change her mind, but he had given this one up without a fight!
That got the bureaucrat thinking. Did the Duke have a plan? Was this all another lesson he was planning to teach the young monarch? Guiles eyed the young, pretty Queen of the British Empire having a blast amongst the soldiers, both male and female. He could imagine that they were giving the teenaged monarch assurances that they would win, just like they would with a younger sister.
Guiles narrowed his eyes. No. This was different. Eminently so. The soldiers were indeed acting quite familiar with the Queen, but it was different than one would with a family member. There was a dose of respect in the way they held themselves around Elizabeth. For instance, they never touched her, holding themselves back almost reverently. The way they spoke was quite colloquial, but it never became vulgar. Even the jokes they offered, though bordered on tasteless, never crossed that line. When she playfully kissed one serviceman's cheek after a particularly flattering comment, the men around him had looked on in jealousy, and the man himself seemed like he could die happy.
There was no lust there—only sheer respect and reverence. This girl could make the men and women around her wilfully and happily die for her, if she chose to. But she didn't, and that made her all the more remarkable to Guiles. She had all that power, all that influence, and she only did what was needed, what was necessary. She asked for nothing, driving her maids and cooks up the wall, and kept her tastes simple. She only held balls for charity, and had to be invited to all the others if she was to appear in high society.
Guiles, for the first time since he began his career, slouched against a wall, arms crossed, and observed the Queen.
She was just a girl. No more than sixteen years of age. She had admitted herself weak and helpless in combat. She was not an expert in politics, either, and she was still learning quite a bit. Yet, she held that aura about her—that aura that told the people around her that she was, or would be in charge. That she was a force to be reckoned with, and that she would rule, not reign.
It would have been unthinkable to Guiles years ago that a girl with such a traumatic background could have risen to such heights and dealt with her past so well. She had been beaten, tortured, and tainted, but she had always risen up, chin up and defiant. Word had reached him that even when in captivity, the Queen had injured quite a few Death Eaters who had tried to get near her, even if not always with the success she merited. What a strong will she had! What inconceivable strength of soul and mind she possessed!
Maybe that was why the Duke was letting her go with him to Britain. Maybe he had seen this side of the Queen before everyone else and was simply waiting for her to awaken, so to speak. Guiles knew, at that moment, that he was a very lucky man.
Before his very eyes, as the Queen laughed and mingled with the soldiers of the Empire, he knew he was watching a rising phoenix. That is what she was: a phoenix; a creature of the Light that sprung from the darkest of ashes, resplendent, powerful, and beautiful.
And upon that platform where she had stood, the phoenix had given its first cry.