Week 5, Title: I know a place where no one's lost
“To grand new alliances; and the joining of our kingdoms!”
Everyone cheers, though some of them still strained. It’s a good alliance, one that will lead both kingdoms to prosper, but there are better ones.
The king of the East sea lands wanted her hand and would’ve brought great wealth and power to them, but the man also had a reputation as a brute and she had told everyone very plainly that if he left bruises on her she would murder him in his sleep. She had also composed essays, which were eloquent, compelling, well-reasoned, and dreadfully long (the record length being thirty four pages) of why every other suitor for her hand would lead to a poor alliance. And she would read them out for everyone.
There seemed to be an inherent promise that if they tried to push her into one of these marriages they would be listening to these essays until the end of their days (and she would out-live all of them to ensure this was the case).
And so, they had eventually given in.
*
“We shouldn’t until we’re wed, it’s improper,” she says, even as she unbuttons his undershirt.
His fingers untangle from her corset strings and he steps away. “We can wait.”
She pulls him back towards her, mouth aching from the stretch of her smile. “I don’t want to wait.”
*
She spends the winter planning for their kingdoms to be combined, which things need to be merged, and which sloughed away, and how they’re going to do so. (Wedding planning also happens when she gets breaks in between). And in the evenings they curl up by the fire together, each with a different book on their laps, all wrapped up to keep out the chill of the cold castle air.
And she can see his breath when he tells her he loves her.
And her heart is full and light at the same time.
And the fact that their alliance isn’t the strongest that either of their kingdoms have is unimportant.
Until it isn’t.
*
It happens so quickly it feels as though she’s left her body and is floating in some unfamiliar nether world.
One of his aligned kingdoms and one of her aligned kingdoms go to war.
And then the betrothal is off and they are at war and they are enemies.
She’s determined to spend more time trying to fix it than she does crying, but she’s tired.
*
Years pass, she fights the war the best she can, not because she cares about it, but because she cares about her soldiers, and the people waiting for them at home, her people. Her hands are hard and maps and strategies flit behind her eyelids when she sleeps. And she tells herself she’s moved on from the childish dalliance of so long ago.
She seeks out good alliances: a way to win the war once and for all. The girl who was determined to only marry for love died twenty battle fields ago.
*
A small group of her soldiers get captured, by his men of all people. (And she wonders if maybe she let him know her too well). He says he will let them go, in exchange for her going to speak to him.
Her advisors try to stop her of course.
“You know it’s a trap, we can’t afford to lose you.”
“He’s not going to kill me,” she says, certain.
“There are worse things men wish to do.”
“He’s not going to hurt me,” she says, still certain.
*
There’s a beaming smile on his face as he walks towards her, and says, “I’ve missed you so much.”
The words are happy and light-hearted and yearning: as if she’s just been away on a trip, not fighting on the opposing side of a war. She stiffens and steps back.
He stills in response. “What’s wrong? It’s not like either of us wanted to fight this war.”
“You! You are wrong. We can’t just act like nothing has changed, everything has changed!”
His façade cracks at that and she sees the fissures underneath. “Look, I’ve found a way, both of our forces are stronger now, if we stand together we can beat everyone else.”
She has to stop herself from laughing hysterically, she can’t go back; her heart has hardened, hollowed out from too much pain for too long. Her hands have been buried in blood that he’s wrought. Her people have lost too much, she has lost too much, there’s no way to switch sides now. (But oh, how she wants to).
“No. I can’t.”
“There’s a plan, a full-force attack coming, if you don’t do this, there won’t be any way out.”
“Am I a prisoner?”
“I’m trying to keep you safe.”
“Am I a prisoner?”
“No.”
“Then if you will kindly release my people, I’m leaving.”
“You’ll die,” he says.
She doesn’t look back. “Or you will.”
Everyone cheers, though some of them still strained. It’s a good alliance, one that will lead both kingdoms to prosper, but there are better ones.
The king of the East sea lands wanted her hand and would’ve brought great wealth and power to them, but the man also had a reputation as a brute and she had told everyone very plainly that if he left bruises on her she would murder him in his sleep. She had also composed essays, which were eloquent, compelling, well-reasoned, and dreadfully long (the record length being thirty four pages) of why every other suitor for her hand would lead to a poor alliance. And she would read them out for everyone.
There seemed to be an inherent promise that if they tried to push her into one of these marriages they would be listening to these essays until the end of their days (and she would out-live all of them to ensure this was the case).
And so, they had eventually given in.
*
“We shouldn’t until we’re wed, it’s improper,” she says, even as she unbuttons his undershirt.
His fingers untangle from her corset strings and he steps away. “We can wait.”
She pulls him back towards her, mouth aching from the stretch of her smile. “I don’t want to wait.”
*
She spends the winter planning for their kingdoms to be combined, which things need to be merged, and which sloughed away, and how they’re going to do so. (Wedding planning also happens when she gets breaks in between). And in the evenings they curl up by the fire together, each with a different book on their laps, all wrapped up to keep out the chill of the cold castle air.
And she can see his breath when he tells her he loves her.
And her heart is full and light at the same time.
And the fact that their alliance isn’t the strongest that either of their kingdoms have is unimportant.
Until it isn’t.
*
It happens so quickly it feels as though she’s left her body and is floating in some unfamiliar nether world.
One of his aligned kingdoms and one of her aligned kingdoms go to war.
And then the betrothal is off and they are at war and they are enemies.
She’s determined to spend more time trying to fix it than she does crying, but she’s tired.
*
Years pass, she fights the war the best she can, not because she cares about it, but because she cares about her soldiers, and the people waiting for them at home, her people. Her hands are hard and maps and strategies flit behind her eyelids when she sleeps. And she tells herself she’s moved on from the childish dalliance of so long ago.
She seeks out good alliances: a way to win the war once and for all. The girl who was determined to only marry for love died twenty battle fields ago.
*
A small group of her soldiers get captured, by his men of all people. (And she wonders if maybe she let him know her too well). He says he will let them go, in exchange for her going to speak to him.
Her advisors try to stop her of course.
“You know it’s a trap, we can’t afford to lose you.”
“He’s not going to kill me,” she says, certain.
“There are worse things men wish to do.”
“He’s not going to hurt me,” she says, still certain.
*
There’s a beaming smile on his face as he walks towards her, and says, “I’ve missed you so much.”
The words are happy and light-hearted and yearning: as if she’s just been away on a trip, not fighting on the opposing side of a war. She stiffens and steps back.
He stills in response. “What’s wrong? It’s not like either of us wanted to fight this war.”
“You! You are wrong. We can’t just act like nothing has changed, everything has changed!”
His façade cracks at that and she sees the fissures underneath. “Look, I’ve found a way, both of our forces are stronger now, if we stand together we can beat everyone else.”
She has to stop herself from laughing hysterically, she can’t go back; her heart has hardened, hollowed out from too much pain for too long. Her hands have been buried in blood that he’s wrought. Her people have lost too much, she has lost too much, there’s no way to switch sides now. (But oh, how she wants to).
“No. I can’t.”
“There’s a plan, a full-force attack coming, if you don’t do this, there won’t be any way out.”
“Am I a prisoner?”
“I’m trying to keep you safe.”
“Am I a prisoner?”
“No.”
“Then if you will kindly release my people, I’m leaving.”
“You’ll die,” he says.
She doesn’t look back. “Or you will.”