MATRICIDA (PK)

[MunaZaldrizoti 8037]

 

Spoiler

 

 

MATRICIDA

 

 

⯁⯁⯁

 

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LADY RUTHERN. 

 

The price of her existence was a heavy one, paid for by her mother’s own blood. It was a shadow that had loomed over her for much of her life, a constant reminder that drove her onward in her pursuit of great achievement. To her, she could not justify the death of Mikhaila vas Ruthern in any other way. God had taken her so Milena might pursue her fated role, a leader to the Haeseni in their time of need. The pride of a girl’s mind hardened into a woman’s zealous fact, over so many years and decades. This had always been her destiny.

 

CUPBEARER.

 

Her wardship under King Ivan VIII and Queen Nataliya I had been her first accomplishment, something she handled with great care and attention. Often it was not only that she poured for the royal monarchs a goblet of Carrion Black, but was tasked with aiding the Lord Palatine Ivo Radovanic with his work and treaties. She beheld the King and Queen in their most private moments, at times of loss and grief and frustration. The Ruthern lady had admired them, in the beginning.

 

As she grew, she came to see that she was naught to them but another servant and no pupil they had desired to uplift. Those cups readily offered were flung back within her face, whilst the Lord Palatine reminded her often of how lacking she was in wit. All this had embittered her…until the day of the assassination attempt upon Ivan’s life. Then it did not matter how she felt or what had been said. It only mattered that her kingdom was shielded from turmoil. A seed had been planted within her, one that would grow only further as time passed.

 

LADY EMISSAR. PRINCESS OF HANSETI-RUSKA. DUCHESS OF GALAHAR.

 

The repayment of her sacrifice had been with a seat upon the Aulic Council, the brooding woman charged with being the face of the realm’s foreign diplomacy. There was some irony in that, she knew, but took her newfound duties as seriously as if she were the Crown itself.  So too was she bound in marriage with the second son of the ‘Twin Crows’, Prince Josef Stanimar. That had been the only time in her life when she had known the briefest amount of true joy and bliss, wedded to the one man who had been her closest confidante and companion since they had met upon a fateful afternoon in the gardens of the old Esrova Prikaz. Both were born with the gifts of the Oracle, to share in each other's secrets and the visions that brought with them many harrowing truths.

 

The death of Ivan and Nataliya had sent a fracturing throughout the lands of Haense, and saw the ascendency of Marius III to the throne. In this, Milena had seen opportunity amidst the grief of losing her mentors - a chance to make good upon all they had taught her. And make good she did, when the young King began to rely upon her to represent his interests in both diplomacy and affairs of administration. The royal Duchess had eclipsed even his own Palatine, the Count Erik Kortrevich, and risen to the heights of power she had sought for herself since she had been old enough to comprehend her own inherent ambition.

 

LADY PALATINE OF THE REALM.

 

By the time the Golden Bulava had been passed into her hand, there were few who could say she hadn’t earned the right to wield it. The King’s growing absence had left a void to be filled, a space with which a strong and present leader needed to fill. With little complaint did  the Princess take up that mantle, attending to matters both great and small in the name of her brother-in-law. Some whispered and grumbled that at times, it was almost she who ruled as monarch. Such things only gave her a sense of validation, that all she pursued as Palatine was done to keep her people safe and content.

 

Amidst all of this, she had children to raise. Two sons and two daughters, all blessed and cursed with the sight of the Oracleborn. And then there was the brood left often to their devices, the offspring of King Marius and Queen Juliya. 

 

The eldest of them, Karl, had been born weak and sickly - a child who might otherwise be similarly underestimated as she had been, had he not been born first. Long into those early evenings did she sit beside that infant’s cradle, listening to his haggard breaths as she perfected recipes of warmed milk that might soothe his weary lungs. Perhaps the time she spent caring for him made her feel some semblance of guilt, for all that similar attention was paid in lesser sums to her own progeny. But it would all be worth it when he was someday King - when he looked to her as the woman who had raised him and ensured he saw success greater than that of his three predecessors. Karl Frederik was to be her greatest triumph and her dearest treasure. Otherwise, her legacy would amount to little, in her eyes.

 

MILENA.

 

The early word of Karl’s sudden departure, after such a successful decade of ruling, had filled Milena with only mild concern at first. The young King had just begun courting her former ward and favored pupil, Erika Kortrevich, and soon intended to make her his consort. The future would be secured upon his recovery and return, she was certain, and all her work would come to fruition in pursuit of a true golden age for the Haeseni. Retirement had not been easy for her, but she held no doubts that she might soon find favor with her royal nephew once more.

 

In the days that followed, she found herself ill with worry. No letters were received, no indication of if the treatment he sought had borne its intended fruit. At times, the Princess would weep and grow hysterical. At others, her thoughts went to the future - of her nephews and nieces. Of Prince Joren, with his lost eye and his brooding manner, who might soon be thrust into a position fate had not intended for him. It all felt as if the realm she had commanded for so many years had fallen into a stasis, frozen in time whilst she held her breath each morning and night.

 

News of the King’s demise was brought upon swift wings, but drowned out quickly by the anguished screams of a woman defeated and broken. Though not a child born by her own labour, he had been a son to her all the same. He had been the object of all her pride and ambition, molded to rule a greater land than that of his father’s own. But now, all had been stolen by that shadow of death that lingered over him, a bright light snuffed out by a final ragged breath. It was a grief she had only felt one other time, upon the death of her son Sigmar - easily remedied by what all would come to call a miraculous resurrection.

 

There would be no remedy now.

 

It did not take long for the Princess’ health to decline, so lost in her grief and the sickness it created within her. For what coherent thought she could muster, she bid those who attended upon her keep the matter a guarded secret. Feverish whimpers were heard in the night by passing maids and servants, paid to figures and faces not present in her chambers otherwise. To her children, she offered unheard regrets and payments of love. To her husband, she paid final proof of her undying devotion. To King Ivan and Nataliya, she spoke of regret for how life had so unjustly ended for them.

 

The final two were the most poignant. The first, the late King Karl, to hear of her pride and her loyalty and her failure to protect him. And the last…her mother, Mikhaila. The first to set eyes upon her, and the last to take her pale and frigid hand. Tears filled those cold eyes, a relief washing over what now was a tired form on the brink of departure. Now, the dour woman would finally know rest.

 

History repeats itself once more. A mother perishes for the love of a child.

 

⯁⯁⯁

 

HRH, PRINCESS MILENA ANASTASYA BARBANOV-BIHAR

515 E.S. - 571 E.S.

Born Lady Milena vas Ruthern

Lady Palatine of Hanseti-Ruska, Lady Emissar, Duchess-consort of Galahar, Lady of Isle Maenvestiyaeo, Kossaras of the Walton Order of the Unyielding

Credit to @ivery

 

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Spoiler

The end of a big chapter for me on LOTC, Milena has been with me for a little over a year now. She has been such an important persona for me to undertake and learn from, the story I've told with her is one I am very proud of and was grateful to share with so many others. 

 

Firstly, I am so thankful that @PerfectlyPeachy, @GMRO, and @Madywelcomed me into Ruthern and gave me the opportunity to play this character. Coming back to LOTC wasn't easy, but getting that chance meant so much to me.

Thank you to @ferdaboyfor creating such a meaningful story between our characters, Milena and Josef, and to @ContestedSnow, @UnBaed, @Halt, and @kaylacita for embodying the children of that marriage so well and with such nuance.

To @indiana105, @kaylacita, @Dogged, and @CheekyNolan, thank you for all the faith you placed in me throughout this past year. I was made to feel like my dedication to Haense, both in roleplay and as a community, was well-appreciated and seen by those leading it.

 @erictafoya and @sarahbarah, I wish you both so much luck and success with your leadership in the future and I hope I am able to share in that with you. You both care so much about Haense and its players, I have no doubts things will only get better from here.

To anyone else who interacted with Milena in any meaningful way, thank you for enriching her story even more. There are too many of you to name, but you know who you are and please know how much I appreciate you.

And FINALLY, to the entire community of Haense - THANK YOU! I have had the absolute pleasure of getting to know so many of you, be it as family related to Milena or by people who looked to me for leadership as Palatine. You all welcomed me and treated me with so much respect, something I mutually have for each and every one of you. You are what keeps Haense going, the heart and friendship you all share with one another is something I get so excited to see. I hope to see you all around some time soon. For now, I take a few weeks to fade into the background and relax.

Until next time, its time to put Milena to rest. Thank you for everything, old girl.

 

[Frawlic 1602]

Dima knew her mother, her name, her face, at least for a time. She had forgotten her voice, and many other things as the years passed. Forgetful of how her hands felt and the expressions she made with each emotion. What she remembered in place of those was something, or someone more present. Cold hands, even for the nature of their nation, soft with a life of luxury. Eyes similar, dark like storm clouds that brewed over Vidaus and Lake Georg. Forgiveness in each argument and steadfast support in every reach. Milena Barbanov-Bihar. A mother.

She would never call her such to her face, the woman was already her aunt. Dima refused to invade another family, having been granted the kindness of many others within those towering walls of rose. Somewhere deep down though, she hoped that Milena regarded her the same, something unspoken between the two of them. Forsaken children, throwing themselves into everything that might grant them a sliver of success. Recognition of what they had lost, and everything they had fought for.

Milena had always been an inspiration of hers. A princess, a woman in power, independent and successful in her rights. From the ages she collected spoons to the year of her marriage, all she could ever do was look up to her. And then when the word of Karl’s illness sparked, she found herself on equal footing, watching that tower of a lady crumble in distress. Too, did she realize she was human, and like herself, experienced even the worst.

So, when the news of her passing reached the Kortrevich, so soon with one loss after another, all she could do was weep. It was nothing violent or messy, only a simple and somber sound upon her steed while a parchment remained crumpled in her hold. She would not shy from the emotions she felt, for the ability to experience them made her human. Dima would not mourn Milena long, but she would remember her, and to her, that is what mattered most. In the sharpness of her own words, the hardening of her exterior, the little learned traits rather than those passed down to her kin.

Milena Barbanov-Bihar. A princess, a palatine, a power to be opposed. Someone who was there. A mother. 

[Andustar 4143]

Once again, silence swept across the halls of the Palatio Arancione. Few figures had provided a constant presence like Milena Barbanov-Bihar; her authority was absolute, and her mind was sharp like a rondel. John Casimir would have considered the word unsettling an appropriate description at times, yet he never admitted that, nor did it distract him from the truth. In spite of her pride and ruthless knack for politics, the King of Balian held a deep sense of respect for the former Lady Palatine. And on occasion, he noticed the slightest expression of kindness, fleeting but sincere nonetheless.

"I wish I'd known that side of you better, Princess Milena," John admitted softly. He knew her at her best, but would have preferred an earnest friendship. "I never forgot your support, particularly in my darkest hour." He poured himself a glass of red wine, from which he took a measured sip. Perhaps Milena sought the same, he thought, although he knew she would never admit it. The King chuckled in knowing that. "Rest now, my friend. Your work is done."

[prophetisms 982]

As Mahaut sat in her office, papers typically sprawled across her desk, she could not drag her gaze away from them. Instead of finding errors to correct or notes to add into the margins, Mahaut found herself parsing through memories. Barely, could she remember encountering Milena before. At Vidaus, as a stony-eyed child opposed to one filled with wonder. At Koravia, under similar conditions. It wasn’t until decades later, Mahaut would come to know Milena. 

It started with an unpublished exposé, meetings with the Aulic Council, then grew into more private visits in the palace offices, then hers and Sigmar’s home. It wasn’t until Sigmar’s temporary absence, that Mahaut tried to warm up to the frigid Palatine and Princess. Dry humor, from then on, hopes that the three could share tea or dinner, and the careful but considerate word of sister came into exchange too. 

Hardly did those smaller things cause mourning for Mahaut, what made her ache was a memory she could hardly forget. “If only I might’ve been born as charming as vy–I would be the perfect prinzenas.” One of the last things Milena said to Mahaut upon Louna’s Hauchmetvas. 

She told Milena that her strength was more valuable, and it was true. However, Mahaut had come to realize too late, Milena was equally charming in her own manner. The aforementioned jokes–or attempts to joke, the diligent eye and hand upon the Golden Bulava, the inclination to bet with an allied princess, the subtle enthusiasm for Snailula. Mahaut fondly recalled these things. They didn’t make Milena perfect, but they made her human, not only a crown or bulava. 

If only, Mahaut had the chance to tell Milena that. She was imperfect, formidable, and charming.

[Cheese 8883]

Esfir recalled her more youthful days in Valdev, cooped up in the Esrova Prikaz. It was not long after her Grandparents’ deaths did she meet a peculiar girl; one who claimed to see the dead amongst the halls of the palace. A girl named Milena, who declared that one day she would be the Palatine. A childish dream, Esfir would have thought in her younger days, one that would dilute into something more feasible, something less ambitious.

 

The two girls were never close, personalities and stories as stark as night and day. But each one had goals that were grand and far away. Each one knew they were destined for nothing but success.

 

The two, Esfir and Milena, were so different. And yet, they both ended up in the same place, even if they were on opposite sides of the world.

 

”Godan, Milena,” The Duchess laughed bitterly. “Vy were always right, oddly enough. How strange it is that we are both so old now.” The letter regarding the late Princess’s passing was carefully placed beside the candles on Esfir’s desk. “May vy rest peacefully. The greatest of us surely deserve it.”

 

Spoiler

My interactions with milena were very limited, but I enjoyed all of them nonetheless. Thank you for being such an inspiration and support of both me and Esfir’s story. Best of luck to wherever the story takes you next!!

 

[Frostdrop1 1843]

Reinhard settled back at the news. Milena. A hard-faced woman. Of course, he meant little to her. His favour meant little, his time meant little. He saw that one, tiny crack of softness and that was all. He couldn't say he'd mourn her, per se. Yet, her name was still written in his book of memories: Milena, the hard-faced palatine.

Lowering his quill, he hoped - somewhere, deep down - that Dima would be okay. And then, bitter betrayal ran over him and that same name he wrote was crossed out some moments after. Some things - some people - were worth forgetting. 

[marsloll 1384]

Weary eyes were cast unto the tops of the mountains that cradled Urguan and Haense, just beyond the river that encircled those red walls that protected the capital so dear. Greyed hairs fluttered in the wind of the dark night like fleeing stars that streaked 'cross the blackenned sky as a pale visage casted her gaze up into the heavens, if they were truly there. Contemplating, the o'Rourke sat upon the ruined spires that had become one of her many safe havens - away from the White City. A singular candle burned in front of her, flickering with warm light on it's own - for one person, one soul.

 

Fleeting memories seemed to twinkle just out of sight like the stars above. That which was reminded of that late Princess, scorned and feared by most of peers amongst her kin, and even outside of such. A strength, misunderstood as a weapon, rather than a shield. Deep-buried emotions, long forgotten and shoved away, bubbled up to the surface - fear, awe, admiration. They all muddled together into some melted jumble, indecipherable. All that lingered was the last face she ever saw of the Princess - joy, with the return of her son. Her lifeblood. Her family.

 

In such moments, one thought that it would be best to be alone. But she never was. Closing her eyes, the silent air of the night was but filled with voices, and whispers. The grief that was thick with pain and hurt, ran through her veins like blood - a calling to those unseen by the mortal eye. In this moment, the Adunian's eyes peeled away from the lights above and down by the stones as her hand reached out to cusp that which could not be seen.

 

"... I think she would've liked you."

[garentoft 9265]

It was not like Tomasz to cry, but even then, men of glass could only be so persistent. It would, of course, be dishonest to say that he and Milena had been particularly close. He had grown up far away from the halls of the Lesanov and the bustling streets of New Valdev. So Milena’s stern eyes had only cast their look upon him when he had reached his teens, but he had come to respect her greatly.

 

Perhaps it were circumstances, then. First Karl, then Milena. All something which he had had to manage, a time where the responsibility over the entire Kingdom had been placed on his shoulders suddenly, and for naught. When things had settled, he would’ve hoped to speak to Milena more, hear her experience of holding the Golden Bulava, both for Marius and for Karl, but now it were not possible.

 

He did not know who to blame for these circumstances. It were either Karl, who had introduced him to the city of New Valdev and its people, then he had become close friends and eventually Palatine for. Or perhaps, were it Milena? She were, after all, the one who had infused her own ambition in him, and now it would stay with him forever, alone.

 

He could only hope that Milena had come, or would come, to respect him as much as he respected her. She was a good Lord Palatine, and a mighty woman. And time would not erase the memory of her.

 

[Legoboy7984 3155]

As the news of Lady Milena’s passing reached Sigmund Ludovar, a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. A brief, fleeting, before a sigh escaped him. He sat in silence, the weight of the revelation settling over him like a thick winter fog. His fingers drummed absently against the armrest of his chair as he stared into the dim candlelight, his mind adrift in contemplation. "So, it has finally come to an end."

She had been his greatest rival, the one unyielding force that had obstructed his path to true prominence in Haense. Time and again, they had clashed with her decisions shaping his fate, her presence looming over his ambitions. She had made him question his life's purpose, even in things he had worked so tirelessly to achieve. And yet, with all the bitterness that lingered between them, he could not deny the thrill of their dance.

A part of him had relished it—the struggle, the challenge, the battle of wills that kept them both sharp. He had anticipated many more years of this contest, a game of strategy played upon the board of Haeseni politics. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

 

"A shame," he murmured, leaning back with a contemplative expression. "I thought this dance would last another decade."

There was no joy in this victory, no satisfaction to be found in an opponent bested by death rather than his own hand. For all she had taken from him, for all the resentment that festered between them, she had been a worthy adversary. Now, she was nothing more than a name in the annals of history—a story ended too soon.

[Terry 2680]

The Princess finally slipped from her brother's comforting embrace, pulling upon either sleeve with a clearing of her throat. Milena's lips twitched upward into the smallest smile. A sad thing. “Da…I shall make an effort to join vy there.” A pause. “It would be dobry to see Mahaut too….”

 

It had been a year since that last conversation with his sister. A sign that things may have been on the up, regardless of the King's health. A chance to spend time with his sister, to chat, to console and comfort. Times like they used to be before the Aulic Government ever walked into either of their lives.

 

But no, now that memory, laced with such comfort and family of old, changed. One word described it now.

 

 

Loss of his sister, of his confidante and one he was confidant to. The loss of his family, one of the last of his family of siblings. Another loss in the line of his generation. The loss of a renowned human being, the loss of his favorite Palatine. 

 

Only pain remained now as the inevitable march of time continued to wage it's battle. Nobody could stand in it's way, not even the Lady Palatine of Haense, who ruled so well that many could have considered her a monarch in her own right.

 

---

 

That very afternoon after Sigmar var Ruthern, one of the last of his line of siblings, learned of the news of his sister, would he put pen to paper.

 

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To Milena, my favorite sibling;

 

There are many things I wish I could say, wished I could have said. Many actions I did not take whilst you were here that looking back, fill me with nothing but regret and sorrow. And now, sitting in this home of mine, a home that last we met, I'd invited you into with the hope of regaining lost time between us... I am filled evermore with these things. Sadness, that we could not spend one more night as a family, and regret that I could not be there with you, in your last moments upon this mortal plane of ours. 

 

Our lives, no... your life especially, were hard from the get-go. The loss of our mother, the besiegement of Morteskvan. From our very first steps were we made to fight, either physically or mentally. A never-ending battle of which we continued fighting well into our later years, a battle that I believe you had won, before the news of Karl's fate became known. A battle I pray you fight no longer, up there in the Seven Skies.

 

Even so, battle after battle, you came out on top. Protecting the life of King Ivan, and being inducted into the Walton Order of the Unyielding, to becoming our Lady Emissar which placed you on a path to the Golden Bulava. All in all, an aspiring tale, and one many of whom should look up to, regardless of personal opinion of you. 

 

You were the greatest sister a brother could ever ask for, and because of that shall there be a great pain in my heart for these next years. A loss I believe I will not truly recover from. A relationship I shall never know again. Know now, that in your honor, my only remaining goal for the time I have left will be committed to Haense and it's security, and ensuring that it prospers, as you had done when you were here.

 

The next time Mahaut and I share a cup of tea or have a drink, I shall ensure a third glass is kept close only for you, for the drink the three of us never got to share.

 

Always your brother, and forever in my heart, dear sister,

Sigmar Rhys var Ruthern

 

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[ContestedSnow 1435]

The Oracle had watched the rapid onset of his mother's demise with vacant eyes; even as she had wept and cried, and mourned, he found he did not have tears left to shed.

 

Instead, he could only offer occasional companionship towards the end. They remained by their mother's side throughout her decline, visiting often though with little to say, and when her feverish regrets and loving payments met his ears, they were returned with an idle expression. Perhaps the unwillingness to share words was an understanding that the Oracle had come to develop over the years; death was not the end. Leaving this mortal coil did not mean they could not speak or exchange words. The Bihar could speak with her any time that they pleased, and the noise of the lake made it difficult for him to focus in any way besides.

 

He thought he had come to terms with this loss. Another, among the long list that continued to grow, but when the news reached him that she drew her last... He still felt a sharp twang of disappointment deep in his heart, that he was not there in the final moment.

 

A gloved hand extended up to grasp their own forehead shakily, and Aleksandr could not help but laugh.

[ivery 590]

There was a time when the Ruthern children were well-known faces to Deia. Three of them, three little girls, laughing alongside the gaggle of others as they marched through New Valdev to take on the world. After so many generations, she could often predict where their dreams would take them. Lady Tatiyana would be a fierce duchess one day, a matriarch revered. Karl and Siegmund, two sides of the same coin, would drift to different places but always have each other. Her Andrey and Amari, dancing around Rezalisa in a disaster that was somehow endearing.

 

Every day there were at least a few smiles out of them, and that was an accomplishment. But Deia remembers one day, on the bridge to the city, when one dour little girl stayed behind.

 

"My lady?" she had asked. The girl's - Milena's - face was turned down towards the ground, so she had knelt in front of her. "..My lady, what's wrong?"

 

"I see things," Milena had muttered at the dirt. "Too many things. I'm not like them- I can't smile like they do."

 

Deia remembers now the urge she had, in that moment, to hold this motherless child. The closest she had gotten was to hover her hands at her shoulders. "..But.." she had started, at a loss for words.

 

"I don't know what my place in the world will be," Milena had said suddenly, cutting off her stammering. There was a wavering in her voice. How could she not? Deia had wondered, because in the child's eyes she saw a wisdom beyond her years.

 

"..I don't know either, my lady," she had admitted, and for a moment the child's face had fallen. "-but I know that whatever it is, you will be great."

 

One day, she would be. She would find the bravery to run from her home and to Josef, and they would marry. She would become a Princess first, then the Palatine- the best of Palatines in a long line of dismal quiet. She would give prophecies that changed lives, foretold tragedy and fortune, and would stand in the way of the Divine to protect her children. She would be the heart of her people, the guiding hand, when all was lost. Over and over again.

 

Reading the missive now, Deia swallows back her bitter grief and smothers the thought that that greatness killed her.

[sarahbarah 7105]

 

QUEEN NADYA HAD NEVER known Milena well. In her youth, the woman had been a distant, foreboding figure haunting the halls of the Kastell Lesanov, draped in an air of quiet authority that few dared to question. Their encounters were scarce, mere glimpses exchanged in passing, brief acknowledgments at courtly gatherings. Yet, as the years passed and the burdens of power settled upon Nadya’s shoulders, she came to understand Milena in ways she never had before.

 

They were more alike than she had once believed - two women of ambition, sharpened by the expectations of others yet dismissed by those who failed to see their worth. They had been underestimated, their strength overlooked, their cunning mistaken for mere circumstance. Even still, they had carved their own paths in equal measure, ensuring that their names would not be lost to time so easily.

 

Now, Milena was gone. The weight of her absence pressed upon Nadya in ways she could not yet articulate. There was no love lost between them, no familial bond to soften the grief, yet the Queen felt the loss keenly. The world had shifted, and with it, something irreplaceable had been taken. She would mourn Milena’s death, not as a friend, but as a woman who had known what it meant to fight for her place in a world that never wished to yield.

 

Spoiler

You played a truly incredible character. Thank you for everything you've done for our community, Muna!

 

[Toffee 2843]

Princess Milena. A force of nature, as everpresent and inevitable as the sun and moon and storms. A monolith. Immoveable, unshakeable, eternal.

 

It was easy for Erika to forget that she was mortal. Just a woman. A formidable woman, but one not impervious to grief, to illness, and to death. So close on the heels of Karl’s demise, Erika heard the news and felt only a strange numbness. This was a loss that would not find her at first, that would settle over her shoulders like fresh snowfall but she would not feel the biting sting of the cold. Not yet.

 

Erika had learned much from the Princess-Palatine during the years of her wardship, but one conversation caught in her mind, and she ruminated on it during the long nights in Ba’as in between her calculation of the stars.

 

“Sit.”

 

Erika dutifully followed after the Lady Palatine, imitating her by picking up her skirts before sitting on the stone garden bench, smoothing down her skirts so that they fell just so, their floral embroidery intricate and spotless. A gift from the woman beside her.

 

“Tell me of your experience,” Princess Milena went on. “With the event of the King’s passing.”

 

A different time, a different king. Karl’s father, King Marius.

 

“It was horrible, to hear the cries of Princess Isabel. I felt like an intruder. It’s easy to forget that the castle is not just the castle… It’s their home. The only one they've ever known.”

 

“Such is the cost of royalty, child. Our lives are not ever private… the least of any other.”

 

Erika nodded her understanding, mute and solemn. There was nothing she could say, so she lapsed into silence and ran her fingertips over the raised embroidery of blooms and leaves and summer fruits.

 

Princess Milena only watched her. “…Does it make you fear the prospect of a royal life?”

 

Erika’s head snapped towards the princess then, so quickly she cricked her neck. “Royal life, Your Highness? I am your ward, but am not royal, even if I do live in the castle.”

 

“But you could be, under the right circumstances.”

 

“Marriage,” Erika said simply, folding her hands in her lap and staring across at the rose gardens off to her right. Averting her gaze from the Lady Palatine’s and looking instead into the stone eye of Queen Viktoria of Metterden. “To a prince, like you did.” Prince Sigmar, perhaps. The Lady Palatine’s son, and one of Erika’s closest friends. Perhaps her only friend, aside from Dima.

 

“Or a king,” Princess Milena said quietly.

 

That had been the beginning. Years of careful prodding, weaving the threads of fate that the princess had first seen when Erika walked in on her conversation with the Grand Lady. A seating arrangement here, a word there, a sprinkling of suggestions and pointed looks.

 

Many would view her as a plotter, a schemer of vast proportions, pulling the strings from her palatial tower, dragging two unwilling souls together. It was not until much later that Erika came to realise the unseen forces Princess Milena had been acting upon. That she and Karl brought peace and balance to one another, and that the Lady Palatine sought only what was best for the kingdom, as the golden bulava of her office bid her to do.

 

Yet even her careful calculations could not waylay fate or heal Karl of his childhood illness. What a cruel jape.

 

There were not enough statues or paintings in the world that could do the late Princess Milena justice, so Erika set to work honouring her the only way she know how. With her pen.