a lovers tale, part 50.
Nine years after the war…
“At this rate,” Abigail proclaimed as she made her way down the hall to the council room with a dark haired child in tow, “I will have no council left save for Zanil. And his presence is only temporary!” Her voice was slightly exacerbated before she placed a hand upon her forehead and gave an audible exhale. Soon enough she turned and gave a slight lift to the child that lingered after her, pressing her lips against her forehead before handing her off to Iolas. While Zanil had primarily spent his days around Mercurius since the news had come, Iolas attended more to the queen and her children than he had prior. Still, though, his scarred face curled into an expression of distaste when he was found to be holding a child in his arms. At least, he recalled, at least I do not still hold the child out from me as though it is something obscene. Her Ladyship surely must have paid some sort of notice to that. Or she has merely given up scolding me for it.
“Your Graceful Majesty,” for no amount of cognitive unlearning would unlearn him the habit of using such for the ruler he was under, no matter their gender or sex, “surely you realized that I should be a part of the council discussion….” but her hand extended to him silenced any further words that he would have to speak, and he continued to hold the child in his arms. “Yes?”
And again she was on her route down the hall, the light of the sun dancing over the golden embroidery laid upon her gown as well as the tight curls of her hair. She was never a woman seen in disrepair when appearing before council, even when all of them were familiar faces. “There is little need for advice insofar as this council goes, and what will be offered I am more than sure that Zanil will happily give. The decision is primarily made. Take Gwyneth and Quin and see to their lesson, Iolas, would you?” Such was when the tanned face fell and his brows tightened above his eyes and he did give a small sigh. Not a drawn out one that he may have made in his youth before the intensive training under the guised god, but it was a sigh nonetheless.
“Your Graceful Majesty--”
“Will you not be advising them one day? Best to spend your time shaping their minds in preparation for their ascent. Please.”
Light were the footfalls of the princess as once again the daughter--Gwyneth--was upon the floor. A hand reached out to seize the advisor’s robes as the two took their departure, allowing Abigail to walk to the council room. Only one guard lingered outside: this would not be a long council, nor a complex one. It would transpire with general ease, as, like she had stated, the decision was all but made. She need only the official recognition of the king for it (which was ridiculous, in her eyes).
Within the council were a small number of folk, all of which knew each other fairly well: Zanil lingered by Mercurius as Brayden and Silvya were seated by one another, their own children in the care of their uncle Brenner and unofficial uncle Tahvaen. They were also the first generation of the family brought up around elves with no distaste or animosity for them, seeing them, even, as family. If nothing else, that signaled quite the change. Additionally within the confines of the room were Drunel and Elfreda, his armor forsaken for casual tunic as he looked up at the statue of Silas.
“I do not feel as though I will ever be comfortable in the shadow of your god, Mercurius,” came the elven knight’s tone, his hand cupping his chin as he blinked up at the intricate carving of the wolf heeled at the feet of the god of war and tactics. “Surely we could have held this in a different room, like those usually used for council.”
“There was no reason to go through the effort of setting it up. After all, everyone in the room is aware of what the outcome will be, unless someone stands to debate.” This was the point at which the Queen did grace them with her presence, moving with ease towards the table. None even bothered to close the door behind her for there was no reason to hide something that would become so obvious in the near future.
“Then if a council is not necessary,” came the queen’s voice as her eyes cast around the room, “then we may as well simply sign the agreement and be done with it. Ah, Elfreda,” as her eyes moved over towards the woman around which this council was centered. She stood there, hip cocked slightly to one side and her mouth a loose smile, “congratulations. I cannot say that I envy your situation, though I am well enough to be in the opposite one quite soon.” There was almost a tinge of sadness to her speech as she looked at Elfreda standing alongside Drunel. “Send His Majesty Iowyr my well wishes, as well. I do hope that we will continue to have conversations in the future and that you will remain in touch with your Baidenese roots. You have done a great service to the country.”
“Is that not what I should say, Abigail?” Zanil had passed the quill and ink to the seated king with the parchment splayed before him, laying his name in his staccato script upon the indicated line. It was an official release of Elfreda from the service of the Baidenese royal family as well as a penned blessing, at the addition of Zanil, for moving forward.
“Assuming you have not made some grandeur change in your plans, this will soon enough all be a weight upon my shoulders. I should begin adjusting to it prior to your departure, King Rosenlied.” There was humor in her voice but for it to be wholly lighthearted and not at all tinged with sadness was in err, truthfully. “You as well will be sorely missed, Mercurius.” That was when her voice dropped slightly and it was Zanil who spoke up in an attempt to keep the mood from growing dark, sad. There was always time for sadness, but joy should be found.
There was another parchment upon the table that the king did move for, penning in a separate way. This one was then passed across to table to where Silvya was seated next to Brayden and her eyes dropped to it. “Thank you—I will do my best for Baiden. It will be nice to be nearer to the people of home, too.”
With Elfreda’s marriage to Iowyr and Drunel approaching come the onset of Midsummer (for it was tradition that when an Elven King wed, it was done at the middle of summer when the days was the longest), it was important that her role as liaison to the Elven empire was filled by someone else. Silvya had been nominated for the role by her very own husband: she was not Baidenese by birth so such discomfort was at least somewhat alleviated of having a Baidenese within their midst and she also harbored a nearness to the people of the North that was difficult to be replicated by one born within the mainland of Liev. Such were but a few of her advantages, but the two that stood out the most in the mind of the people who made the decisions. Iolas had minimal say in the whole fiasco, currently tasked more with rearing and teaching the children than true affairs of state. The concept was that he would need to be gradually released into such affairs—especially those that involved nearness to the Ceredi in the north. Iowyr had trepidations still about the fact that Iolas was to serve as advisor to the next generation, but at the end of the day it was not his call. The advisor, after all, had little to do with the direct communication between the representatives of the Ceredi and Baiden save for the points at which the Ceredi representative traveled with the Baidenese king to council.
Though, from this point forth, it would be the Baidenese Queen. The crown would pass to her before the next council was called.
“Mercurius.”
All who had been called for what was honestly a joke of a council had been dismissed and in the shadow of Silas and his beasts did the woman and her husband linger, knowing there were words yet to be spoken. He moved from his seat to her after securing the door and in his hands he cradled her elbows.
“I wish you did not have to leave.”
“It is not forever, Abigail,” as he placed his lips upon her forehead,
“It feels as though it is. But there is no time, no reason for us to dally like this. You’ve preparations to be made yet, and I am sure Zanil would be more valued as far as your time goes.”
“You speak as though our time together is not valued. Have I done something wrong?”
The man she had initially married would never have asked that. The man that she lay in bed with on the night of their nuptials and spoke to her, of her taking a lover and asking he be Baidenese, would not have said that. Perhaps if this was still that man, she would have had fewer qualms, and her chest would not have ached as it did. While the children seemed to take it surprisingly well, they were also not able to understand that such thing were not normal. Growing up in a vacuum had allotted them that, if nothing else. Families usually stayed together, but it was okay for them to split up and travel. They had been exposed to enough traveling nobles to have that concept, at least. Father wasn’t leaving forever. He would still come back to see them, and to see mother, so things were okay.
The decision had not been made lightly. In the wake of the war, in the wake of reflection upon what he had done, it was his own choice to step down from the crown. To no longer be king. A Rosenlied king must be a fit king, and he was not fit to be a king. No man that spoke so openly of genocide and such extremes had any place near that power. So it had been decided that Abigail would become Queen of Baiden and, as for Mercurius…
“Send King Lander my regards and inform him he is sorely overdue for a visit. His court painter promised to do a painting of myself and the children while they are still young, after all.”
And he smiled slightly, holding her still there in the shadow of Silas as he stepped back, gazing down at her. He would miss her, deeply. But it was not forever, and they both had to remind themselves of that. “I will. Faeron has done quite well for himself, these past few years. Vaira fits him quite well.”
Initially, it had not gone well at the council where it had been announced. The three representatives for Baiden were unprecedented: both the king and the queen, leaving the country in the hands of the advisors for the time being. Naturally, there was nothing that the rulers of the other countries could do but react as it was not their choice, not their true place to consent or not. It was unheard of, while being the culmination of years worth of rumors. At least in that, they could be validated insofar as their correctness was concerned.
The King of Baiden, Mercurius Lafayette Rosenlied, son of Alden and Georgiana Rosenlied, would be abdicating his crown and his position as ruler to his wife, Abigail. She would become ruler and he would step down and serve in the Vairan Military (which was itself a new concept and a new term since the Grand War and the nationwide peace) as Head Knight. It was the Oranian king, Girart Daien, still new on Wymand’s throne, that voiced his support first of all of them. One could almost accuse his happiness of having ulterior meaning, for that meant that an Oranian noblewoman was upon the throne of Baiden, something never before heard of. In fact, all of Baiden being ruled under a Queen was unheard of--Oran had been, for a period, and Meh’rok as well, but Baiden? It was the strength of the men in the Rosenlied bloodline that fortified Baiden--that is not to say that the blood never flowed through a Baidenese princess, but still they kept the Rosenlied name. The strength of the Rosenlied family was what brought Baiden to where it was.
But it was as they had said, adapt or die.
“I hold a great respect for King Rosenlied,” the young King Daien spoke with voice unwavering, “for knowing what is best for his country even at the expense of his pride.
“You are biased,” the king of Meh’rok stated as he leaned forward with a frown on his lips. “The queen is Oranian. Of course you are fine with the arrangement--”
“This is not for discussion,” as Arric stood from where where he was seated at the head of the council table. “The decision is made. It was merely a statement of what should transpire.” Drunel stood, near to not only Abigail but Mercurius. His role in council was primarily silent, and he cast his eyes from Arric to Mercurius and Abigail, and--it was almost to his surprise. This was not happiness.
Removal of the king from the throne was never something done lightly. But this was a willing relinquishment of the title, knowing it was better in Abigail’s hands. Mercurius was wise enough to know when to cease pursuing something and all at the table (save, perhaps, for the stubborn king of Meh’rok) were wise enough to acknowledge that.
“My heart will lie always with Baiden and I expect to keep a strong friendship and alliance. Furthemore, I have no plans to separate from my wife. I will have no standing place in politics save as the Head Knight of Vaira. That is the best route for me.”
This would be his final council as the king of Baiden. The weight of that knowledge was heavy on all involved as they dismissed within the hour--after all, when councils were called during times of peace, there was no reason for them to have an excessive duration. It seemed almost a shame to ride back to Baiden and yet, there were ties yet to be tied. Such as the official announcement of Silvya as the new ambassador to the Ceredi and, after all, the King had promised to attend Elfreda’s wedding. It was after midsummer that he would depart from Baiden after passing the crown to his wife, officially. The wedding would be the first time he had set foot within the territory of the elves since the war and, possibly, the last.
In truth, they could not have asked for better weather for their travel from Baiden to Vaira. More on the side of warm than cool as it was just past the height of Summer and the dissention into Autumn had not yet begun: there were yet a few months of the warm weather to be treasured before the fear of cold and chill would settle in. The party in which they travelled was small and the departure had been heartfelt. Abigail and Mercurius had lingered longer than would have been expected when they had first wed, oh, much had changed since then—but this was also the departure of Brenner, decorated as a hero of war for having lost his eye to the Ceredi in the north. Long was his embrace with his brother and the nephews and nieces (two boys and one girl, to Silvya and Brayden’s contentment) lingered around him. The blond woman spoke the blessings of the north in their ancient language, the well wishes of family as she stepped away from her brother-in-law with a smile.
“Go to your other,” as Brenner swung his weight astride the horse that would carry him to what was to be his home. Brayden would remain under the charge and title of Head Knight of Baiden, serving Her Royal Majesty the Queen of Baiden, taking the badge from the still not widely known Head Knight. One would think he would have played a larger role in negotiations, but by all means he seemed to have bowed gracefully out during or after the war or, according to some stories, even been slain by the Ceredi. The king offered no confirmation one way or the other.
There was a spattering of knights that also attended their once-king to Vaira with no intention to return. At most it was a traveling party of ten people more equipped for swiftness than battle. The world was blessed by peace and they would react accordingly. They carried no flag, no raiment, no symbol of diplomacy for they were no longer diplomats as much as they were immigrants, departing from the lands of their birth to dwell until their death at another country nearer to the sea. There was anxiety and a nervous buzz about them.
Furthermore, there was knowledge that this would be the first time that Mercurius likely arrived without delay to Vaira in the duration of his life. He was more than prone to allowing tardiness to become his modus operandi as far as these situations did transpire. But not this time.
It was mid-afternoon some days after their initial departure when they arrived in the shadow of the castle that held Arric and his council, the white marble and rounded architecture far different than the grey stone and rigidity for which the military country was known. He had planned to watch from a high stair, to peer from the window and yet as scouts upon battlements shouted of the approach of a party of ten with a man clad in black armor at their head, he could not.
So Mercurius drew to him the king of Vaira within a moment of dismounting as Arandel lingered a few strides away, a slight distance and he gave neither approval nor disapproval. The decision was made whether he liked it or not and so he had not bothered to voice his protest. (Though, honestly, it would likely be approval or even consent for when talk of genocide had begun Arandel desired the king be removed from Baiden as it was.)
Yet it was not only Arric and Mercurius who embraced and shared a kiss. Tahvaen had been near the fair king, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he scanned the faces of the women and men upon Baidenese warhorses. When a saddle groaned and Brenner stepped forth those bright eyes of green lit up and, if Arric had ran to an embrace, Tahvaen leapt to it, the shock sending the one-eyed night sprawling backwards upon the ground with a thud as the half-elf buried his face against the crook of his neck.
“Tahvaen—are—are you crying?”
“Am not. Do not. Shut up.”
The hands of the Vairan king and his new head knight lingered against one another as they stepped back from the embrace, a smile on their lips as the roguish half-elf seemed unwilling to relinquish his grip upon Brenner come hell or high water, the other knights in the company along with the two men of noble blood smiling.
“I love you,” spoke the Vairan king, softly, the din of men and women dismounting (and Brenner finally rolling back to his feet once the grip of the half-elf was released) almost drowning it out. It was the grip of Mercurius’s hand to his that assured him that it had been heard, and the same three words whispered back in kind.
“All is as it should be,” exhaled the former king as he walked alongside his newfound liege into the castle he had scarce see more of than the guest wing and council room. Home, now. Home.
and they lived happily ever after.
read from the beginning.