Eryane 3629 Share Posted November 10, 2020 THE DIARY OF MAYA VALERIYA BARBANOV Regarding her years as the Queen Mother of Hanseti-Ruska, published by HRM the Queen Mother, Viktoria of Metterden IV JOVEO MAAN 23rd of the First Seed, 1753 Andrik is dead. I find it as though I no longer need to cover my words with “I believe” or “I hope”, especially not within the comforts of my own writing. I hear writing is often what my Aunt Mariya did, to assist her mind from all that was running rampant within it. She was a troubled woman after the gruesome death of her father King Marius II, and the rumors surrounding her mother. I find it impossible to hope for any more in my life, other than the prosperous futures and happiness of my children. They are all so young, though I worry of my two boys the most. Sigi is only five years old and a king. What is he to make of that? He is hardly old enough to comprehend an opinion in itself, let alone uphold a proper conversation. And yet, he is king. I wish I could shelter him from the cruelties of the world, but I cannot. Not only will my endeavors be impossible, but he must become a strong king. I fear the nobles and other aristocrats that wish to manipulate him for their own bidding and wishes. To my luck, the Lord Regent is Ser Tiberius Barrow and the Lord Palatine my cousin, Georg Alimar. He is too being raised by the royal governess Isabel Stafyr, who I trust greatly. While myself and the aforementioned are not particularly close, I am no fool to trickery or falsities. She has none of such and can easily be referred to as a genuine person. I find that she will do her best in raising all of my children. She’s grown fond of my girls, with music being a primary education for the three. I admire her strength behind all that she does hide, for that is what so many of us do. As for Nikolas, he will be raised fatherless. I wish for my husband’s brother, Rupert, to be his paternal figure. However, I have no idea how long he will be staying within Reza. I know he holds a deep, festering hatred for the life of a prince. Not a moment does go by that I recall any times where he did not mention his despising of it. It does often bother me that he complains of his life, when he was raised without much want or need other than the lack of a father himself. Has he seen those who starve on the streets, who long for home whilst he endures the warmth of the palace on the harsh Haeseni winters? Seeing the people who suffer alone can alter someone– even if they are a prince and raised with all the luxuries in the world. Perhaps I will find another good man to be a strong presence within Nikolas’ life. To such I do realize sounds as if I wish to remarry, but I find that to be akin to a betrayal to Andrik. I would not dream of it– remarrying. If Ser Tiberius is willing, I would prefer him above all else to be a fatherly figure unto my children. Tiberius is a good, loyal man. To that I have no doubt. My young Sigi reminds me so much of myself that it often scares me. He will try to protect his siblings and suppress his own stresses and worries. He did not receive the kind childhood I dreamt of, witnessing my capture and too being held to a wall with a knife when only five. But to be consumed by worry and overprotectiveness– it is what I did for ‘Rina and Dimitri. More than ever before will I have to be at his side and let him know that he may come to be for anything that is bothering him. I love my children more than anything. There is nothing that can simply compare, other than my love for the Haeseni people and the kingdom. It is a care indescribable, only by those who are of mothers and fathers. There is no task more difficult than that of motherhood, but too is it rewarding. I will do whatever it takes to see their lives become great, and their hearts strong. 11th of Sun’s Smile, 1753 Lady Frida Gant was removed as royal governess. Part of me pities the girl, for the sake that she looked up to me like no other. She was one of the first, and quick to realize, that there was something between Andrik and I when we were younger. So often do I wish I could go back to those days where I carelessly jumped from rooftops and clambered my way up an abandoned tower. There were horrors in those days, though, that overshadow much of the joviality, if not all of them. Nonetheless, I am glad that Frida will be spending some time considering all that occurred. She should never have used my name to get things done without my permission. It stings to think she would try to sully my name in such a way, yet I believe it must’ve been accidental. I wish not to believe another person would betray me. The title of Queen-Mother reminds me of the years I’ve lost. There is nothing more worthwhile in life than serving one’s country to the fullest, though I often think of what life would’ve been like should I have not been Queen. I was sixteen when I ascended the throne with Andrik. Even before then, I was never granted a peaceful childhood. I never had a childhood to begin with. My earliest memory is my father forcing me to watch as my uncle beheaded some man I knew not of. I cannot remember the exact words he told me then, but they were along the lines of duty and its importance. Even at my youthful age of five, my recollection of the event has stayed intact for its very affect unto my person. Queen-Mother seems to be a title for women in their late forties, fifties even, not twenty-three. I should have had more time with my child to raise him to be a king. This life was thrusted upon him too quickly. There are so many regrets, so many moments that I wish I could’ve had with Andrik before his passing. I never saw his naturally-caring figure raise his little girls into his arms and cradle them. I know he would have done so, so well as a father. Our relations did drain with the responsibilities of leadership upon our shoulders, and the weight of the crown upon our heads. We hardly spoke when busied with the duties of the day. A passing smile from him alone did lift my spirits enough to remember I was all right. I do not wish to say I ever doubted my love for him –or his love for me– but rather, we were not given enough time together. So many moments throughout my day did I take up speaking to courtiers and their duties within the system when I could have ushered them away to speak with Andrik. We both chose duty to our kingdom over ourselves and our relationship to one another. The crown is first, and upon my marriage to him did I relinquish any selfish thought that consumed my mind. 2nd of the Amber Cold, 1753 The war is nearly over, or so it feels. Only a fool would not be able to sense such now, as the Elves have sided with the Holy Orenian Empire. It was hours before I saw the missive that I was in the streets of the imperial city, arguing about the uselessness of the Elves being aligned with the Morsgradi. The High Elf was not a bad man at all, yet rather a very respectable one. He seemed to not care about anything else other than the protection of his people. At that moment, I considered myself to be an enemy of the High Elven people because of their alliance to a people that tore my own family apart; yet could not help but find a respect for the man’s love of his own. A feeling that I knew all too well, that I am willing to do whatever it takes for the prosperity and peace of the Haeseni, and furthermore the empire. If there is anything in my life that has stayed constant and stable, it is my love for my people– the Haeseni people. We may be cold in demeanor, but are warm of heart and determined unlike any others to protect our own. There is an almost childish side of me that’s giddy at the thought of seeing the High Elven architecture now that they are no longer an enemy state. As a child, I always dreamed of the magic and wondrous beauties of the Elves. I read about them in any books I could find within the Alimar Memorial library. I believe I even had Andrik read a few tomes to me when I was attempting to assist him with his speech impediment. My intrigue of the elven cultures wasn’t something I liked to admit for quite some time after the war started, but I thought them to be one of the most beautiful races. Perhaps now that we are at peace with the High Elves, I may take my children to see the glimmering white city of Haelun’or. It will certainly be a change of venue and unlike anything they have seen before. I do hope they are not as cocky as I’ve heard, however. 13th of the Amber Cold, 1753 Today, I find myself questioning all of the secrets I have withheld over the years. How they have tore at my mind, bit by bit. I do try my best to be loyal and uphold my paths and promises. For, what is it to be human if one has no morals at all? However, holding back the truth does often trouble me. In the solace of my own writing, I find a sense of trust in the ink. These are my words and hidden to myself. Writing it feels as though I am telling a close confidant, when it really is simply releasing the information by hand. It is an odd sense of euphoria, I must say. I see now why my aunt wrote so much. Although it is no major secret to start with, hardly a secret at all, my name is simply a shortening for Mariya. Mariya Valeriya Barbanov. I considered changing my name upon my ascension to the position of Queen-Consort, to Mariya. It sounded far more regal, though my courtiers assured me that Maya was unique. I still believe Queen Mariya sounded far better than Queen Maya, though names and titles do not matter. In my early youth, I was chosen to be a ward under the Queen Milena. Every time I met with her, I can recall her slipping in a few words of queenship and how it was my destiny. She saw me as some sort of prodigy under her wing, or was I someone who she wanted to implant her own plans and ideas into as a way to continue her ideals and legacy? Oftentimes, I find myself questioning if I was subject to manipulation by the Haeseni Queen so she might see Princess Arianne removed from the betrothal and ostracized. She despised that princess and all that she stood for, that she would go off training in swordsmanship with Dame Primrose. She even dared to ask me once if I wished to be a Queen. I was far too young to understand the weight of her question and responsibilities with it. I had only wanted to be great, remembered. And yet, what little girl does not dream of wearing a pretty tiara? The weight does not show until it rests upon one’s head. Lady Arianne was only mentioned on a few occasions to me by Milena. The betrothal did bother me, as I had grown fond of Andrik with all the times we spent together. He was the one person I could rely on without a doubt in my mind. I trusted my sister Karina all the same, but did not wish to burden her with what all occurred to me as she was so young. It felt like I would be failing my younger sister if I told her these private matters that she might not have been able to comprehend. Arianne of Kaedrin was a good woman, however. She was a Kaedrini, but would have been as great of a Haeseni queen as any other. To that I am certain. How would the world have looked had she not disappeared? Milena tried to convince me to tell my father of my want to be Queen, though not mention her name at all when doing so. I was into my adolescent years then and had an odd suspicion of her saying that. I did speak to him, however. I didn’t want to disappoint her and the selfishness of me wanted to choose love over duty. I remember his reaction - the day I told him. It was in the midst of the war, and I had also been away from the home for two days on a journey to visit where Andrik and his family were hiding before the Siege of Reza. When I admitted the affection I felt towards Andrik after returning home from my journey, my father seized a handful of my hair and dragged me up the stairs of our manor. He threw me into my room. His words resonate deeply within me, and his actions have certainly shaped the person I am now. 'You are becoming a woman Maya, you can not chase the impossible forever’. He promised he would no longer strike us across the face like he did when we were little, and he kept his promise of not raising his hand to hit me. This pain settled in far worse. I remember it all so well, as if it were occurring before me as I write. ‘You must learn as I did, the world is cruel and joy is not provided but earned. If you wish to chase after wisps of it instead of building towards your own, you will never find the happiness you wish, only a taste of it, and never be content.’ I was sobbing, apologizing, wishing I had never said anything to him at all. He locked the door, and left me in there for three days. I knew then that there was nothing more important than duty, even if it ate away at my mind. I reminded myself of my love of Haense, of how I would do anything for her to thrive, and it at least made the pain lessen; to remember the love of my nation. My wish to keep the people within Haense happy has also led to many other secrets that I have kept. I want to ensure their happiness, as it is what they deserve. For one, my husband deserves ease and to not worry about my ongoings. Never have I slept with another man during our marriage. I would never do that to the man I love. This does not conceal that I was pursued by another man, one who has tried to do so recently. The Knight Paramount and previous Lord Palatine, Markus Kortrevich, spent a significant amount of time in my presence or office making remarks that no man should to a married woman, especially one with a dying husband. He made advances upon the Lady Mary Philippa that I swore to keep hidden as a protection of her honor and name, and as a friend who I did not wish to betray. He had even been kissing her in the great hall, which I had seen and yelled at the two of them for. Markus was married to my cousin and I berated him for ever doing her wrong in such a way. I had told him to get himself in tact for his children, and better himself for his wife– Winnifred, my cousin. I can recall that is when his advances turned upon me. I must rest now, and I hope not to dwell much longer on his actions. 18th of the Amber Cold, 1753 I have begun to realize that my children make quite the team when they are together. They are bright children; especially for how young they are. Alexandria and Amelya played a prank upon some of the servants of the palace today, as well as their royal guard. Somehow, they also ended up with a frog and kept it in a bottle. They are outspoken beyond belief, which does often worry me. It is not that I am against the right of one speaking their mind, but more so what will come of them if they do. They are princesses and princes, but their guards could easily make one misstep. I have tried to hire more for them and their endeavors, but it seems that the knight paramount is incredibly incompetent and I must rely on the Brotherhood of Saint Karl. What brings about my worry is the judicial system and their willingness to ignore proper evidence given. The trial of Jasper Carrington resulted in an outcome that disgusted me. An innocent man, likely wanting death for some reason or another, pretended to be the assassin of His Holiness the Pontiff, Pontian III. He was executed for a crime he did not commit. The man claimed to have the cross of the pontiff himself, but upon further inspection it likely was easy to tell that the cross was false evidence. I have the cross of Pontian III. As my husband and I lay dying on the beds of the Reznian hospital, I recovered from my wounds and my husband did not– and in an attempt to help save my husband’s life, the Pontiff prayed for him and gave him his cross. In Andrik’s final hours in the Ekaterinburg Palace, he gifted me the cross. I bursted out onto the courtroom floor with Lady Valentina to present the cross to the prosecution against Jasper Carrington. It was waved off, like they were not truly trying to get him for anything at all when it was their duty to properly try him. Who paid them for their silence? How many have been paid throughout the years to hide the truth from the people? After the recent trial, I spoke with the judge, Sir John d’Arkent, about how he had so swiftly let a man who confessed to a crime die; a crime he did not commit. I cannot remember the exact words of Sir John, but he felt like he had let an innocent man die too. He rambled on about some complications, that leads me to believe he was paid off by the Carringtons or someone higher. I dare not say the exact person who crosses my mind, who I believe may be the very man to have requested an assassination of the pontiff. Sir John later made questionable comments regarding my ‘beauty’ and ‘striking eyes’, how I would not understand what had occurred. I found it all rather strange, considering my eyes are a dull blue. I ignored it and left with Sir Konrad, who had accompanied me in worry that I might be assassinated for calling out the obvious scheme. Lady Valentina clutched onto my very person after we attempted to oust the Carringtons for their crimes, and became overwhelmingly emotional as she seemed certain they would kill her now, that it was over for her. I offered her asylum in the Haeseni realm, undoubtedly as my friend. Jasper Carrington killed Pontian III, and the trial was paid off to protect him. The judicial system failed the Orenian people that day, and an innocent man died. 21st of the Amber Cold, 1753 It's impossible to sleep at night. I have moved my room from the King and Queen’s chambers, as the bed suddenly feels beyond empty. It is cold, even with all the blankets of the palace stacked upon it. Sometimes I feel as though I see those whom I have round the corner, and I rush forward only to see that it is only a figure of my imagination. I visit the king’s office hoping to see Andrik leaning over a book or another stack of papers, but the room is empty and the fireplace unlit. I have begun to fear for my own life more and more, but it is something I am willing to risk if it means the protection of my children or my people. But in this case, I fear I will die for knowing the truth. How many have died because they knew too much? What all is truly being hidden from the Orenian people? Nightmares consume my sleep and paranoia when I wake. For once in my life, I long for my father. I want him to hold me in a tight embrace like he did in those small, fleeting moments that he showed he loved me and my siblings. He was a strange man, to strike me so oft before my younger siblings but proclaim he did it out of love. I recall after the Great Fire of Reza that he held me in his embrace as I sobbed. The screams are all too memorable, even if it has been so many years since the occurrence. I miss Andrik too, even if we did not speak as much in our final few years. I miss being called tulip. It was a silly moniker that I admittedly miss more than anything. It is true, that one may never realize how much they miss someone or something until it is gone; then, you are only left reaching for the scraps of what once was. I long for the days that 'Rina and my cousins, Georg and Godfric, would run about the ruins of the Prikaz whilst my father was screaming for our return home. We cared so little then. The turmoils of the Rubern War had yet to affect us and we were free, free from all the worries of the world. It is such bliss, to be a child. Now almost everyone I know is dead, buried before my eyes. I fear if I were to write a list of those deceased how long I would go on before I reached the end of it. I'm beginning to feel a bit drowsy again now that I’ve written down some of my thoughts. I dreamt of Alexandria and Sigi being taken tonight. I must remind myself it will never happen. They will be safe, and I will ensure it. 13th of Snow’s Maiden, 1753 Green visited the palace last night with a gift he wished to give out of what would seemingly be nowhere at all, without considering the events that transpired several saint’s days ago. A 32 carat diamond necklace with true gold upon its chain and decorated throughout. He offered that whatever I should need, he would provide. Is this an attempt at diplomacy or an apology, for he knew that I had delved into the truth of the situation aforementioned regarding his brother? 8th of the First Seed, 1754 I spoke with Tiberius, the Lord Regent, last night. We had never truly gotten the opportunity before with our busy and conflicting schedules, although I always admired him for his strength and love of the Haeseni people. After our conversation, I only admire him more. Part of me wonders if that behind all his strength and stoic expressions, he is hurting. He said he doesn’t speak of his past much because of its harshness, and I could only understand. I have never once wanted to put so much effort forth into becoming friends with someone. Not to say I put little effort forth at all, but I feel as if he understands me in some way that others cannot and will never be able to. There was an indescribable pain about him that I wish I could help from my own understanding. Nonetheless, I will not ramble on about my wishes to seek him out as a friend. I left a recent entry off on the note that I would tell more of my secrets. For one, I have been pursued by numerous people after the death of Andrik. People move on so quickly with their lives that they do not even stop to realize those who have been lost or affected. 22nd of the Grand Harvest, 1754 Tiberius is dead. I can hardly even write. My hand is trembling with each and every letter that I pen. How can I stay strong when I have little to no one left around me? When everyone else has died? I pray that my children will never have to know the suffering that I have endured. They deserve a better world, a happier one. I don’t know if that’s something I will ever manage for myself, not anymore. My happiness lies within the happiness of my children. Without them, I don’t know if I’d be much more than a husk of a person. What are we without the people we love? I wish I could’ve been Tiberius’s friend. There was something about him that brought an incredible amount of intrigue to me. A sense of comfort, almost? Perhaps it was that he was the first person who didn’t openly share their history with me, and that reminded me so much of myself in a strange way. He had a past but created himself anyways. He made a path for himself, even when the world tried to tell him otherwise. He wouldn’t tell me who his father was and I respected that. But I wish I could’ve gained his trust through the years. Now, I cannot. Time is a bittersweet construct of humanity. My sister Katerina threw herself from a tower only several days before the death of Tiberius. I haven’t found the strength to write of it until now. She was my half-sister, but it always felt like the ‘half’ was never truly there. My sister, even if I was jealous of all the times Father treated her better, would always spend her free time making baked goods or cakes for Karina and myself. If he was not caring for Kat, he was with that mistress of his. I wish I could’ve spent more time with Katerina but I did not even have time for my own husband. My time was dedicated solely to the state of the nation. She kept trying to speak with me but I’d have to leave in the midst of our conversation because of courtly matters or other responsibilities that called for me. The nightmares have gotten worse and I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight, or for many days for that matter. Now, I can only assume the terrors will be flashes of what Tiberius’s death was like, and me watching from a distance hopelessly. I don’t know how he was killed yet, and I’m afraid that if I do, the thought will play over and over in my mind. What was he thinking in his last moments? It would not surprise me if his resolve was as strong as ever. His last words must’ve been something for Haense. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone with as much love and patriotism for Haense as he. I hope that these words will not be erased or difficult to read, as I cannot help the tears that befall these pages. An overwhelming sense of failure consumes me, as I had donned armor and attempted to save him with the others hours ago. We could have saved him, but we failed. I failed him. I will try to rest anyways, but I doubt I will find any rest tonight. 3rd of Malin’s Welcome, 1755 Sleep is but a simple wish that I so desire but cannot see within my reach any longer. Nightmares have taken the place of any imaginative dreams I might’ve once had. I write now in the early morning as I find nothing else that can bring me peace. I first dreamt of the night my father nearly took my life, as he held me against a counter and poured Carrion Black unto my face until I was sobbing and could no longer breathe. I woke, remembering that in the aftermath Andrik had saved me from it all and kept me in the palace thereafter. I attempted to sleep once more, and when I did I was in that damned abandon keep. The men there were taunting me, what they planned to do. Then I was stumbling out of the keep, staring at Andrik and the men he rallied as the blows hit my stomach over and over. The cold against my neck after they cut my hair was all too familiar. And then I was falling into snow. Upon my landing I saw a smiling Alexandria. Little Alexandria, Andrik’s sister. She was asking to play again, whilst building her snow fort and declaring herself as Queen Ingrid. I reached for her, but she faded away, screaming as a man lifted her into his arms and dragged her from me. Alexandria hadn’t even reached the age of ten when I saw her body lying on the Ekaterinburg Palace floor. Milena had since passed from her brutal flaying, and both the twins were under my care. She had been stabbed so many times… Andrik was a gentle man, but I saw his father in those moments when he stared unto his deceased sister. They executed her, for nothing. 11th of the Sun’s Smile, 1756 I find comfort in fleeting moments of happiness, leading me to wonder if my father was right. Will I ever have anything more than a taste of content? I feel as if that question is not something I wish to dwell too much on, as the answer is all too familiar. The children are doing well, and their health and comfort is all I can pray and look forward to. Ana grows more stubborn by the day, and little Lya cannot stop clinging to my skirts. She is only six, though, and I will not be like my father. Alia is more independent than the other two, but it doesn’t surprise me. I see much of myself in her, but I hope she’s a bit more intelligent than me. That seems to be the case. Sigi is just as, if not more, stubborn than Analiesa. I hope that he can have the strong patriotism and love for his kingdom that I bear for it. I believe he will, and that he will make a good king. I rarely see him about anymore and there is this odd disconnection between us. I suppose that is one of the many sacrifices in which a monarch must make, is it not? To give up even the feeling of true parenthood, in sacrifice for a brighter future of the rest. 21st of the Amber Cold, 1756 Sigi is missing. I know where he is, but he’s missing from home. I don’t understand why I wasn’t informed, why there were no guards to tell me of his wish to adventure out. For the first week, I kept trying to shove the memories of what happened to Alexandria out of my mind. Stepping into the great hall was like stepping into the same time years ago, seeing Siguine Ruthern glance up to me as horrified as everyone else gathered in the room- with a child’s body drenched in blood on the floor. I thought they had taken Sigi, the AIS. Margaret Helvets informed me of a letter she received from a noble lady aboard the ship. He’s safe, but he’s so far away. To what extent is he truly safe? The ship could crash and drown everyone with it, like the Rentian Empress Adeline. I have contacted multiple persons to insist that a boat be dispatched to retrieve him, but none believe it possible to catch up to the exploration ship. Where were the Golden Hussars? Why wasn’t anyone watching him? I must send a letter to Markus immediately, for these failed actions of the royal guards are indescribable. Although Ser Markus is a Haenseman, he failed his king before and he has failed another now – while in the past saying things that I should’ve had him beat for, or worse, while Andrik was alive. A selfish man with no real honor other than that in which he creates in his own mind. The House of Kortrevich deserves a man greater than he to be a part of it. They are a loyal, devoted house of Haeseni. I do not speak of Markus’s neglectful acts for hope he may redeem his soul for the sake of his family. Yet, his attempts to have an affair while also serving as the king’s highest advisor and second in command are nothing short of revolting. I struggle to pray for him, for his betterment. How can I, when he has done so much wrong? He tried to get away with far worse, but I would’ve never betrayed Andrik in such a way. Andrik was a close confidant, a friend, and my husband. I won’t think too much on the events, for I know I will go on and on and I must stay on my toes with what has occurred; we are at war, and my son has managed to escape on a ship to another continent. 18th of the Sun’s Smile, 1760 An interesting set of events occurred today… Firstly, I have taken on Viktoria Sofiya and Elizaveta Angelika Ruthern as my wards. Both of them have shown outstanding potential that I wish to provide a grand future for. The two accompanied me on my travels to Curon. And I could not believe what transpired. The Governor-General of Curon spoke of how he wished for there to be a renewal of brotherhood between Curon and Haense. To that extent, I agreed wholeheartedly. There is nothing wrong with strong diplomatic relations. What it is that shocked me is the offer that he made to me. He spoke of how marriage would be a potential option, if I were to consider it. “Have you considered remarrying, Your Majesty?” A question I hear more oft than not. He stated that a marriage between him and myself would be beneficial to both our nations. He was bold to ask that, and his offer overall was considerably with good heart, but I had to deny this offer. Sir Sylvester seems like a kind man, a good man. I do hope he cares for his nation as I do mine. However, with such in consideration, my duties and responsibilities are to Haense and her betterment. In the case of marrying the Governor-General, I did not believe that would be extremely benefitting to Haense. I did offer to help with any of their rebuilding, to supply materials and the like, as well as host any events they would like with them. 10th of the Amber Cold, 1760 There is nothing more drowning than one’s own thoughts. Across from me is the morgue, and in it a box where my friend lies. Aleksandra Alimar. Only a day ago, I cradled her in my arms as she drew her last breath. I did not know what to do or what to say when I found her. How does one respond, how does one properly react as their bloodied friend reaches out in a crawl? I stood there with this sudden inability to move forth. It took me a moment before my knees gave in and I pulled myself to her. I couldn’t even scream, there was a constraining in my throat so tight. I wished for her to gaze at the stars above, because I have always found they are so beautiful in a world often dark. But she kept peering to me instead. She merely shook her head, so weak, and continued to look to me. All my years of composing my emotions for the courts could not have prepared me for keeping myself together as my friend, my sister, my confidant died in my arms. The wounds by no means were going to be healed. There was blood all over her, punctures in her dress. I wish I could have spent more time with her. She should have been given the world after everything she gave it. Are you well, Your Majesty? I hear it ringing around me every time someone passes to see me within the morgue. I was raised, tutored, to never show my true emotions to anyone but those I trust, and even then to keep a watchful eye– I did not trust anyone but one. I can hear my father’s words taunting me now to keep it composed, that I am showing weakness and weakness will not be tolerated. And now I trust none at all. I simply nod to those who inquire of my well-being, and muster together a smile as best as I can portray. 21st of the Grand Harvest, 1761 Sigismund has been shot through the neck. Goblins stood within the great hall’s balcony as the court continued on with a crossbow ready and aimed at him, my little boy. I do not understand why anyone would attempt to kill a child; my child. He may be a king, but he is still a boy. How cruel a world that one cares not for how youthful a person is, but rather the title that they hold. Is this what we, as people, have come to? The Regent, my great uncle Otto Sigmar, has brought someone else to see my son other than the Surgeon General Demaris. He will be well, they promise, but my fear is that they only tell me such because I am a Queen; and telling me otherwise would be displeasing. I hope they are being honest and not telling me lies to satisfy my worries. There are no times for formalities in this setting. We are but people trying to save a child’s life, my son’s life – not the royal family of Hanseti-Ruska, not in this moment. 22nd of the Grand Harvest, 1761 Otto the Tarcharman has visited my son after the Surgeon-General (and may God bless her soul for her efforts). He has given Sigi an elixir that will save him from the brink of death. He will survive. He must survive. In the meantime, the scholar has offered to write a documentation regarding the Queens of Haense with me. I will too help with his writings on the Grand Ladies. I am not the most accomplished writer, but perhaps my insight regarding these women will be of use. 13th of the Sun’s Smile, 1761 The nightmares worsen, and I find that sleep is not something I will ever be able to indulge peacefully in again. The guards brought my father's dead body to the doorstep again. The same night terror has been reoccurring these past few rests, his bloodied corpse that somewhat resembled my father. Too have they brought the letter of suicide from my cousin Anabel, and the skeletal remains of my mother. I have not been able to sleep for years, I jest with myself to think anything will change. To my fortune, however, having my sister Karina return after many years of her disappearance has been a blessing I cannot be thankful enough for. II have lost countless people in my thirty-one years of life, but at least I may have her back in my arms. After Aleksandra’s passing, I was afraid I had lost all confidants I had garnered through the decades, through everything, but with Karina I am able to speak my mind freely again. I can tell her everything that occurs, laugh with her when another man attempts to marry me again, or simply have a conversation without the weight of constant etiquette. The question ‘Do you plan to remarry?’ has become the most frequent inquiry my way. In regards to our conversations of etiquette, I do not hate etiquette, but having to mask perfection to appear strong and stable at every hour is exhausting. None of us are symbols of perfection; but mere people attempting to be something great. Great by no means is perfection. Any historian will know such upon a simple study of a monarch. Greatness too comes at a cost that many cannot endure without reaching insanity itself. My apprenticeship under the previous Surgeon-General of Reza, Chesna Kovachev, has allowed for me to care for my son throughout the night. I do not sleep anymore, other than a few fleeting saint’s minutes. What kind of mother would I be if I cannot care for my son and protect him in his hour of need? There are parts of me that guilt over the occurrences of the assassination attempt. I should have leaped in front of the bolt to take it for myself, but he was too far for me to reach. I must remind myself that it is not my fault even if my consciousness attempts to convince me otherwise. Of other note, the Emperor and the Archchancellor came to visit my son. They were also in the company of Anne, the heiress of the empire and a childhood friend of mine– Peter III’s daughter. The words exchanged between both the Emperor and his advisor were like a foreign language to me. They spoke of prophecy, of the future. I have always despised hearing anything of that sort. I did not find my way through the whim of destiny, but through my own blood and tears and relentless work; as so many men and women have done before me. Despite it all, and despite my hatred for ‘fortune-telling’, the Emperor showed a kindness that I couldn’t thank enough and so did Lord Basrid. He did what many did not, and knelt at my son’s side with his hat pressed to his chest. Da– it is because his vassal’s leader was gravely injured, but also because a child was laying there before him. Not a man with many years of ruling under his belt, but a little boy who had barely begun to know the world. Anne offered me her condolences for everything that had occurred as those two rambled on. I asked them what they were saying when I could not bear to be in the dark any longer. Simon Basrid informed me that what happened to my son was similar to his namesake, the Exalted Sigismund. They acted as if my son were to one day be something great, and in that moment, I wanted to believe in destiny and prophecy and all of the above. I still have my doubts, but I do know that my son will be a great king with or without fate’s existence. 16th of the Amber Cold, 1762 Sigi has swiftly recovered, much quicker than I had expected. It was within the month that he was out and walking. But he couldn’t speak as he normally did. His throat pained him easily, and shouting wasn’t something he could manage. There are many more months before his full recovery, but I know it will not be too long. My son is strong, stronger than I could have ever imagined. I love my son, perhaps more than he will ever know, and the pride I bear for him is indescribable. Maybe when he has had a child of his own, he will know that love and pride. In the meantime, the Emperor has come to visit again. He wished to see Sigismund, alongside his daughter, Anne. I showed them both to where he rested, within my chambers. The Emperor knelt once more before my son’s bedside, then asked if we would be able to converse elsewhere. It brought me to a surprise, considering how many other people were in his party. He told me, then, that it would only be for myself, him, and Anne. How strange. We sat beneath the canopy in the garden, where many other courtiers lurked. He had gotten them to leave, and told Sir John d’Arkent he was tired of his drunkenness. His bluntness also took me by sudden surprise. Even with my title as Queen-Mother, I would never speak to my own people in such a way. Yet, he is the emperor. I never got to meet him during my tenure as consort to Andrik but I faintly recall his wife, Lorena of Augustin, sending her Grand Lady, Valentina, to gift me an aged fine wine after Andrik and I’s coronation. He asked me how I was, which the question in itself was another shock. No one had asked me that in quite some time, considering all the people who used to have passed on– save my little sister, Rina. And it was an informalities I would never expect from the emperor towards a person he had only spoken to once before. We spoke of ruling, its burdens and its gifts, and then our children. He told me he felt like he failed them. I sometimes oft find myself wondering the same thing. Have I failed my children? Sigi could have died saint’s days before. I assured him he had not, and that we finally would enjoy peace after years of bloodshed. We deserve peace. I must confess, there was something deeper to our conversing that affected me. I have never had a genuine conversation about leadership with anyone else who has experiences with it. But the tone of the conversation changed, and I still am unaware of how to feel about it. He asked that we set aside formalities, and thus called me Maya. The emperor is more a genuine man than I thought, and I believe he will make a good friend. By the end of the meeting, he gifted me the onyx gemstone from the first princess of Haense, Julia Barbanov. I do wonder how he obtained it... Anywho, I need a good friend, I truly do. But I need rest more than anything and it is far too late for me to pen another word. 22nd of the Deep Cold, 1762 Today, Viktoria has shown outstanding improvement in her studies. The royal academy I have opened is moving along quite nicely too. I feel a sense of contentment in life and all surrounding it. Viktoria will be my successor, I am most certain of it. She will be a suitable partner to my son, and stand strongly at his side in the face of all evil, fear, and struggle that may come upon the kingdom in the coming years. When I pass, she will - undoubtedly - take over my position within the courts and prior role as the Queen of Haense. We queens are a voice of the many women who have theirs stripped from them, and thus must be of the utmost strength when questioned by those who may attempt to silence us. The war is over, I am preparing my successor, and my children are happy. I even have my sister at my side too. My family. What more could I ask for? There is a beauty in life that I didn’t see so much of before. I was so blinded by grief, and an unwavering determination to give every part of my life to Haense. There is something inside me that is just mine now, and it’s this happiness and satisfaction of seeing my family prosper and grow. Unity at last resonates in the empire. It is what we have created this empire and nothing less; the unification of humanity. We are stronger together, stronger as one. I have started to wonder, however, why there are so many visits between myself and His Imperial Majesty. A courier came by the palace, but he lied when my great uncle Otto was near. He said the letter was from Anne, then when he approached he whispered it was from the Emperor. A personal letter, in fact, and a secret one. Why would he have to lie about it? What is he getting at? What is this all about? He called me Maya in the letter’s contents, and signed it simply as Peter. I hope he is not another suitor attempting my hand, considering he is twenty-seven or so years older. He is also the father of my childhood friend. The thought of him pursuing me makes my stomach churn. The letter asked for me to come by the Novellen Palace, alone, and I can recall my hands trembling. How can you say no to an emperor? I turned to Otto for advice then and he told me to go, to see what the emperor had to say, but do not let him gain any advances upon me. Otto has been one of the only figures of my life to which I can solely rely on, and I know the Haeseni people do so happen to feel the same. He governs with competence and patriotism. What transpired within the palace has made me think that the Emperor may pertain feelings to me, with his comments of my beauty and the like. I do not wish to assume, but I am no fool. We talked for hours on end about the Exalted Sigismund’s scrolls. I honestly, for the life of me, did not understand a single word of what he said. My father did not teach me anything of the sort, but I tried to pick it up as best I could. It does interest me, as I have prayed to God so many lonely nights. He is a voice when no others will listen, even if he does not directly speak to me. It does intrigue me if my son is considered to be so similar to the prophet. Peter called Sigi the ‘child of destiny’. Intriguing, and almost humoring, considering my mother thought me to be the child of curses and corruptions. The way he spoke of Elves did frighten me to a great extent, how the only way we can achieve this ‘Paradise’ is through eliminating Haelun’or and Irrinor, and forcing all the Elves under us in the empire. That is no way to achieve peace, that is the way to achieve tyranny and genocide. Ridding of the rest of the Elves who do not go under the empire, ‘purifying’ them. It terrified me. The Elves, although we were once enemies at war, have their own beautiful culture and nation exterior to the empire. We must, as people, always appreciate the cultures that may be great in difference to us, for better or for worse, to learn from them in our own right. Have the stresses of leadership caused him to grow ill, paranoid, or something else? Is he insane? It seems he has gone mad, insane. Anne did once tell me about how she could often hear him yelling and shouting to himself in his chambers, to no one in particular, and it is oft a story told to me that the imperial apartments are closed off for not only privacy reasons, but in fear that a common noble or visitor might hear his random screams. 18th of Snow’s Maiden, 1762 I sit within Karina’s room as I write now, and despite how colorful and lively it all appears, there is an unmistakable emptiness about it now. The sickness in my stomach is something I can’t hinder. The feeling of grief is now anew. My thoughts cannot focus on one particular idea. Writing this now is a struggle in itself because I can’t find the words. My sister, my little sister, my light and angel. My shadow who followed me head first into stupid ideas as a child simply because she trusted my judgement no matter how naive it may have been. She was murdered, her body bludgeoned and bloody almost beyond recognition. She was pregnant as well, and I have never seen such excitement in her eyes. Had I said it to anyone else, they might scrunch their nose at such scandal. She was pregnant before she was married, but such did not matter to me. Why would it? Nothing matters when it is your sibling’s happiness. She wanted to name the child after me if she had a girl. Maya. I hated it at first, revolted at the idea, because I cannot stand my name in the slightest for it is uncommon in the Haeseni culture (yet a shortening of my aunt’s name ‘Mariya’, or as my mother told me) but the thought of it grew on me. It was more than a name, it was a sentiment. It was a gift of her love that I had not seen. I wish I had, and I wish I had been kinder to her. I instead toiled over the protectiveness of her. Lauritz told me a day ago that Karina had attempted to kiss him, too, and he went to Charles regarding it. Her fiancé. Lauritz has been a good friend of mine for many years now, and a rather intelligent one to say the least. He does not fall for the trickery of many nobility. Then it was the Carringtons that came into the great hall offering me condolences for a death I did not know occurred. Mary was the first to tell me, and I wanted to embrace her so tightly in that period of frozen time. I wanted to clutch onto someone I consider a friend, and a good one at that - but the formalities overwhelmed me. I couldn’t in a crowd of people. Responsibilities and pains and another loss all caused me to collapse to the floor. Godfric, GOD bless him for it, asked them all to leave as I fell by his side. He attempted to keep me upright when I could not manage any longer. I told Mary what I knew before she left. It was Charles, it has to be. I know it is Charles, by what Lauritz has told me. Karina kisses Lauritz, being her free-spirited self (and foolish though I never like to admit it even in the conscious of my own mind), and is found dead not long after her fiancé is informed of the transaction. I am no fool, and I am certain the justice system is not either. However, it seems they will play whatever role is the highest paying in their theatrical troupe of officers and investigators. Should we not be able to rely on them? Should we not be able to trust them, to protect us from the evil lurking in the night? If there were perhaps more Haeseni representation, I do truly believe something would be done. I am certain of my own people’s ability in pursuing proper justice; do the others? We will see, depending on if the arrest –or at least interrogation– of Charles d’Arkent occurs. He murdered my sister. Her body was brutalized; beaten, stabbed, bloody. She hardly appeared like my sister anymore. Karina must’ve felt so alone when she died. How much pain did they make her endure? The body - it looked like she had been tortured for hours on end before she was killed. Did she think of me? I miss her, and I want her to laugh with me again about silly, foolish matters. I wanted to be an aunt, and see my little sister grow into a beautiful mother. Now it has been stolen from me. My niece, or nephew, was stolen from me too. I cannot think about this anymore. I need to focus on scheduling for the children at the academy and preparing for the coronation festivities. I must endure. 20th of Malin’s Welcome, 1762 I was within the attendance of a young girl’s name day today, quite unusual for my person. I truly had no idea that it would be about such, all I knew is that I was invited by the Governor of the Palace, at the Emperor’s request, to go to a party. God, might I tell you the anxiety that overwhelmed me. For the sake of my dear friend Anne, I would never want to sully any relations unto the imperials by denying her father… but I am no fool either of what he presumes of me; of what he may potentially desire. I recall his recent letter which did ask if the cloak he gifted me kept me warm. I shiver at the thought of his intentions behind those words. How many other women have had to endure this before me? We gambled, which I do find odd at a child’s birthday party… But such is the way of Carringtons, I suppose. Green, although a notorious businessman, has always had me intrigued. I might say he is not a good man, but that does not obligate him to a bad one either. We must all fight for what is ours, no? Mary Philippa had spoken to me in hushed conversation about the emperor’s mistress; an elven woman. She too had made it clear of the emperor's intentions. But regarding his mistresses– he has had many of them throughout the years; elven ones to be particular– or so she tells me. Is the court mage Vexalia a mistress too? I fear more what his plans are. If it was not for the Archchancellor Simon Basrid to lead above all and cover the emperor's faltering mind (likely an affliction from his many years of service, or the blood that runs through him), I do not know what would come of the empire. At least we all have hope; that Anne will be empress regnant one day. I know her and her capabilities well, and she will undoubtedly be one of the greatest monarchs of the empire. I miss our conversations and hope I can see her soon once more. Mary attempted to eavesdrop on the conversing of Green and Peter, but did not tell me what she could hear as she was unable to when Peter rose from where he was seated and approached me for a dance directly after. She seemed concerned, as it was regarding me entirely. I know that he no longer wishes to see my son as he is near fully recovered, but instead wishes to see me– alone. I am sickened with the thought. If he were merely attempting to befriend me I might think it far differently. Of course, I would love to help loosen the tensions of the Haeseni and the imperials, but it is not friendship he seeks. I am nearly the same age as his daughter. How can he look at me with interest in such a way? I could never, and will never be the Holy Orenian Empress at his side; nor will I ever marry again for that matter. For I am a Haensewoman, and the Queen Mother of Hanseti-Ruska. A mother does not abandon her children, and I will not abandon my people for silly titles and power. My love for the Haeseni people will never falter, not even upon the day that I pass from the land and to the skies above. 7th of the Grand Harvest, 1762 It is a beautiful day in Reza. The decorations are stunning, and the people are laughing. There is so much joy now. I wonder what it would have been like if this is what I was raised in, rather than the war and troubles my family constantly endured. I shouldn’t dwell on the past anymore. Instead, I now look forward to the future. My daughters, my beautiful daughters, they are my world – all of my children, even Nikolas - although he can be quite the handful sometimes. I think he would struggle at times to know my dearest love for him, in spite of the troublesome child he is. I love them all so much. Their presence alone brings pride unto my heart, an overwhelming sensation of joy each day I am graced to be their mother. I can finally say that, for once in so many years, I am at peace. I am happy. For every dark day in my life, there have been two more lights to fill it. There are so many people I wish I could revel in this serenity with, all having passed on to the next life; whatever that may truly be. The religious men of Canon speak of God setting paths for us, but I believe I have carved one of my own. God may help us down our path, but it is we who choose the road we walk upon. I can only hope that my children do the same and do not let the bounds of others or those above tell them which road they are to take. I hope that for my people, for my nation. I do trust for a brighter future for the Haeseni people, and in the generations to come. Spoiler I've been really excited to share this for a long time, specifically since Maya's death at the beginning of the year. I started working on it the moment that she became queen-mother, which was such a fun period of time. Thanks again to all who contributed to this character and for the opportunities that came with her, and thank you to @Zaerie for having Viktoria publish/release this piece! 22 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Axelu 3691 Share Posted November 10, 2020 Sister Anabel Vladimirovna recalls her childhood with the Queen Maya - a beloved figure of her life, even if they were bereaved of each other in youth. In her memory, the Secretariat but signed the lorraine over her bosom. Above, a Queen did smile knowingly. "And look what became of you, beloved crow, because of my prodding. I once told you, in the life of a consort, tragedy and scrutiny go hand in hand. It is her composure, despite it all, that determines her esteem..." Milena Ekaterina paced in the corridors of a bygone bastion, tresses of carmine lagging against the marble flooring. "My beloved Mariya once told me she thought me the greatest. Yet, when looking at you, Maya, I realize how utterly wrong she was." A simper crimped the deceased Carrion's lips shut and her eyes lilted from wherever they lurked to the one that stood before her. "It was you, all along." 2 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
AnonymousAlexa 3877 Share Posted November 10, 2020 The now elderly Angelika Bykov smiled faintly as she panned through the late Queen-consort's diary. She recalled her wardship to Queen Maya and everything she had been taught. "Godan bless her," she uttered before signing the Lorraine across her chest four times. 1 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Branchio 93 Share Posted November 10, 2020 Julianne Barclay, a girl of just eleven, sat within the warmth of the Haense tavern. Cozy in her seat next to the fire, she read over the published works. The girl had previously not known of the duties, stress, and hardships of such a title as Queen. Something shifted in the girl as she read over it, that sense of wanting titles and power - the want to be a queen that every little girl dreamed of, faded. The writings in the Queen Mother's diary had moved her. 2 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
doreebear 601 Share Posted November 12, 2020 Nataliya Reza faintly smiled as her sapphire gaze scanned the letter of her grandmother's diary. " She and I were notably similar..." she stated in a soft tone. The once princess then paused, continuing to read the letter, rocking in an old wooden chair; whilst her child sat calmly on her lap, observing with curiosity. 2 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
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