Omake - Two sides of a coin
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Omake - Two sides of a coin
Isabella was positively aglow as she skipped a few steps on her way to court. She had no doubts in her mind that her Henry wouldn't bother overturning her decisions again. He walked quietly by her side, his eyes glancing every now and then in her direction before moving over to the windows and the courtyards outside. She preened herself up with bright smiles whenever his eyes fell on her.
Her heart couldn't stop beating. This was what it meant to be in love, and with the subject of your desires right at an arm's length. She had to control herself however, because it wouldn't do to show signs of affection outside of the bed chambers -whoever made that law had probably married an ugly tart, or an equally disgusting man. She saw her beloved husband's hand moved back and forth slowly and with grace, and she really wanted to grab those fingers with her own.
But...but the etiquette, the rules...
She was torn.
What if he thought she was being shameless? What would he think?
No, her Henry wouldn't think anything like that. He was her brave, courageous husband who had come back victorious from the war. Holding hands-it wouldn't be shameless now, would it?
Yet as she debated internally, he turned one of his unfair smiles in her direction, and she melted once more in a puddle of goo. Her knees went weak as she kept on walking, trying her hardest not to give much thought to it.
"Court will last for one hour this morning," she said. She decided that saying something was better than saying nothing. "Afterwards, we will make a brief appearance in the streets to watch the commoners, and another -a bit longer- to the barracks for the soldiers." She glanced up, hoping he'd approve of her plans. She was giving more than ten minutes of her precious time to commoners and ilk like that, after all. Surely it would suffice?
Her Henry was easy to read. His lips usually remained fixed in whatever expression he was having, and his eyes, while not growing colder, stopped being warm. It was more like he put up a mask to hide his displeasure, but she was good at seeing through it, so she knew she had made a mistake.
"How long will a brief appearance be?" he asked gently.
"We can dispense-" twenty minutes. Thirty. Forty? Sixty. One hour and half-what would please Henry? Oh, gods-say a tall enough time-you can always push the meeting with the Counts and the Viscounts at a later time. You can claim you felt sick-do it. Just...just do it. "Two hours," she said. "We do have meetings to attend to," there, are you happy now, you unfair man? Two hours near commoners-if it weren't for you, one minute would be enough-no, thirty seconds at most.
For his smile, though, and the light peck he gave her on the side of the temple, she could have spent the whole day talking nonsense with a maid.
So she smiled, and giggled.
"Oh, Henry, not in the hallways," she grinned, and then extended a hand to grab his own. "Like this will be enough, dear husband of mine."
Yes. She was glad he was back home.
And now that he was, she would never let him go.
Never again.
-
Henrietta did not know when she stopped shedding tears. She just knew that it happened. One morning, she woke up and there were no more tears left to shed. She honestly began to believe that she was cursed. Everything she did resulted in people either hating her, disliking her, or outright seeing her in a negative light. She had no idea why it was happening. She had no idea what she should do to fix it.
She knew that she was just a foolish princess, but can't a foolish princess at least seek love? Her cousin Wales-the plan had been simple. She had promised-she had begged and pleaded, and Captain Wardes had gone, putting his life at risk, and brought her beloved Wales back. She had kept him out of sight in the La Fontaine mansion, and while she knew it was shameless of her, she had gone more than once there -visiting her friend's older sister and her ailing health had been the excuse. The truth was that she hoped that just one more visit would be enough to calm her beloved' heart, to make him see reason and once more becoming the smiling prince she knew he was.
He hadn't.
When Peace had been wrought up, she thought-she thought that perhaps Gallia would intervene with the peace treaties broken...but Gallia didn't. The Prince-Consort, the man she used to play tag with, glared at her as if he knew everything. As if he was disgusted at her suggestions, as if rather than honor, he valued something else more dearly. Truly, what a shameless princess she was-to value war for the freedom and love of her beloved one other the lives of her people-she should have dressed in black and prayed to the Gods and Brimir for forgiveness, but she couldn't.
She was already past beyond the point of redemption now, wasn't she?
The Gods punished her for her act, no matter how much the Generals praised it, she saw it in their eyes, the fear that Gallia would take affront and retaliate. The only reason they didn't voice it up was because they knew the Prince-General's fame as a foolish man who sought peace over war, who sought diplomacy over aggression-and while they called him a fool, she couldn't help but wistfully wonder if perhaps he was in the right, rather than in the wrong.
It was when the news of peace arrived, and Reconquista's fall, that she understood what kindness could bring to the table. Between surrendering to her and Germania, why not surrender to the kind Gallian prince? Secretly, she hoped Albion would still be returned to Wales, but his freedom, and honor, were now intact once more. Being captured by Reconquista rather than kidnapped-surely it would be enough?
But no, her charming prince Valiant had wanted to restore his honor by himself, and so...so he had chosen to fight.
He had chosen to fight against a man known as the Vicious Wind.
But, surely, he was a kind man. Surely, she thought, he would hear her pleas-surely-
A golden cage, he said. Better to die free than to live in a golden cage, he spoke. It was clear he had known from the start. It was clear that, rather than call her out on it, he had known and kept silent. He hadn't wanted to shame her, hadn't wanted to say a word but-but now she understood. Even though he despised war, he still fought it for those who couldn't fight it.
Even though he did not wish to fight to the death Wales, he would honor his last wish, and see his death restore his honor.
And when the day came, and fog made it difficult to see the field itself, she hoped against all hopes that her Prince Valiant would win, that he would show her his dashing courage, his roguish desires to return to her love, and affections, and-and-and then he died.
Gods, she remembered the noise. Gods, she remembered the cold, lashing winds as they ripped in the air as a foreboding message. Gods, she felt her own soul shudder as the twisting, the spinning, the shrieking of the gales proclaimed that none shall live where it would strike.
It was terrifying.
It was vicious indeed.
Only his swordwand now remained of her once beloved Wales.
Only a piece of metal, covered in blood.
That was all that remained of the beloved of a foolish princess.
She couldn't even feel anger, only tired resignation.
She didn't even wish for revenge.
She just wished for it to be over already.
"Cardinal Mazarin," she whispered to the man, looking up at him. "Could you please take time with the marriage?"
"Your royal highness-taking time...prince Albrecht is already at the edges of his patience," the Cardinal replied, "Why would you need more time, your royal highness?"
Henrietta simply smiled awkwardly, and looked down at her hands, clasped together on her lap. "I would like to properly mourn the loss of my cousin. A few months will do," she acquiesced. Near her, a lock box stood open and empty.
Whoever had the letters-whoever had the proof of hers and Wales' love...
If they just delivered it to the imperial family in Germania...
Then the marriage would not proceed.
She just hoped now, she just hoped now against all belief...
For that someone to play that card, and let her be free once more.
Isabella was positively aglow as she skipped a few steps on her way to court. She had no doubts in her mind that her Henry wouldn't bother overturning her decisions again. He walked quietly by her side, his eyes glancing every now and then in her direction before moving over to the windows and the courtyards outside. She preened herself up with bright smiles whenever his eyes fell on her.
Her heart couldn't stop beating. This was what it meant to be in love, and with the subject of your desires right at an arm's length. She had to control herself however, because it wouldn't do to show signs of affection outside of the bed chambers -whoever made that law had probably married an ugly tart, or an equally disgusting man. She saw her beloved husband's hand moved back and forth slowly and with grace, and she really wanted to grab those fingers with her own.
But...but the etiquette, the rules...
She was torn.
What if he thought she was being shameless? What would he think?
No, her Henry wouldn't think anything like that. He was her brave, courageous husband who had come back victorious from the war. Holding hands-it wouldn't be shameless now, would it?
Yet as she debated internally, he turned one of his unfair smiles in her direction, and she melted once more in a puddle of goo. Her knees went weak as she kept on walking, trying her hardest not to give much thought to it.
"Court will last for one hour this morning," she said. She decided that saying something was better than saying nothing. "Afterwards, we will make a brief appearance in the streets to watch the commoners, and another -a bit longer- to the barracks for the soldiers." She glanced up, hoping he'd approve of her plans. She was giving more than ten minutes of her precious time to commoners and ilk like that, after all. Surely it would suffice?
Her Henry was easy to read. His lips usually remained fixed in whatever expression he was having, and his eyes, while not growing colder, stopped being warm. It was more like he put up a mask to hide his displeasure, but she was good at seeing through it, so she knew she had made a mistake.
"How long will a brief appearance be?" he asked gently.
"We can dispense-" twenty minutes. Thirty. Forty? Sixty. One hour and half-what would please Henry? Oh, gods-say a tall enough time-you can always push the meeting with the Counts and the Viscounts at a later time. You can claim you felt sick-do it. Just...just do it. "Two hours," she said. "We do have meetings to attend to," there, are you happy now, you unfair man? Two hours near commoners-if it weren't for you, one minute would be enough-no, thirty seconds at most.
For his smile, though, and the light peck he gave her on the side of the temple, she could have spent the whole day talking nonsense with a maid.
So she smiled, and giggled.
"Oh, Henry, not in the hallways," she grinned, and then extended a hand to grab his own. "Like this will be enough, dear husband of mine."
Yes. She was glad he was back home.
And now that he was, she would never let him go.
Never again.
-
Henrietta did not know when she stopped shedding tears. She just knew that it happened. One morning, she woke up and there were no more tears left to shed. She honestly began to believe that she was cursed. Everything she did resulted in people either hating her, disliking her, or outright seeing her in a negative light. She had no idea why it was happening. She had no idea what she should do to fix it.
She knew that she was just a foolish princess, but can't a foolish princess at least seek love? Her cousin Wales-the plan had been simple. She had promised-she had begged and pleaded, and Captain Wardes had gone, putting his life at risk, and brought her beloved Wales back. She had kept him out of sight in the La Fontaine mansion, and while she knew it was shameless of her, she had gone more than once there -visiting her friend's older sister and her ailing health had been the excuse. The truth was that she hoped that just one more visit would be enough to calm her beloved' heart, to make him see reason and once more becoming the smiling prince she knew he was.
He hadn't.
When Peace had been wrought up, she thought-she thought that perhaps Gallia would intervene with the peace treaties broken...but Gallia didn't. The Prince-Consort, the man she used to play tag with, glared at her as if he knew everything. As if he was disgusted at her suggestions, as if rather than honor, he valued something else more dearly. Truly, what a shameless princess she was-to value war for the freedom and love of her beloved one other the lives of her people-she should have dressed in black and prayed to the Gods and Brimir for forgiveness, but she couldn't.
She was already past beyond the point of redemption now, wasn't she?
The Gods punished her for her act, no matter how much the Generals praised it, she saw it in their eyes, the fear that Gallia would take affront and retaliate. The only reason they didn't voice it up was because they knew the Prince-General's fame as a foolish man who sought peace over war, who sought diplomacy over aggression-and while they called him a fool, she couldn't help but wistfully wonder if perhaps he was in the right, rather than in the wrong.
It was when the news of peace arrived, and Reconquista's fall, that she understood what kindness could bring to the table. Between surrendering to her and Germania, why not surrender to the kind Gallian prince? Secretly, she hoped Albion would still be returned to Wales, but his freedom, and honor, were now intact once more. Being captured by Reconquista rather than kidnapped-surely it would be enough?
But no, her charming prince Valiant had wanted to restore his honor by himself, and so...so he had chosen to fight.
He had chosen to fight against a man known as the Vicious Wind.
But, surely, he was a kind man. Surely, she thought, he would hear her pleas-surely-
A golden cage, he said. Better to die free than to live in a golden cage, he spoke. It was clear he had known from the start. It was clear that, rather than call her out on it, he had known and kept silent. He hadn't wanted to shame her, hadn't wanted to say a word but-but now she understood. Even though he despised war, he still fought it for those who couldn't fight it.
Even though he did not wish to fight to the death Wales, he would honor his last wish, and see his death restore his honor.
And when the day came, and fog made it difficult to see the field itself, she hoped against all hopes that her Prince Valiant would win, that he would show her his dashing courage, his roguish desires to return to her love, and affections, and-and-and then he died.
Gods, she remembered the noise. Gods, she remembered the cold, lashing winds as they ripped in the air as a foreboding message. Gods, she felt her own soul shudder as the twisting, the spinning, the shrieking of the gales proclaimed that none shall live where it would strike.
It was terrifying.
It was vicious indeed.
Only his swordwand now remained of her once beloved Wales.
Only a piece of metal, covered in blood.
That was all that remained of the beloved of a foolish princess.
She couldn't even feel anger, only tired resignation.
She didn't even wish for revenge.
She just wished for it to be over already.
"Cardinal Mazarin," she whispered to the man, looking up at him. "Could you please take time with the marriage?"
"Your royal highness-taking time...prince Albrecht is already at the edges of his patience," the Cardinal replied, "Why would you need more time, your royal highness?"
Henrietta simply smiled awkwardly, and looked down at her hands, clasped together on her lap. "I would like to properly mourn the loss of my cousin. A few months will do," she acquiesced. Near her, a lock box stood open and empty.
Whoever had the letters-whoever had the proof of hers and Wales' love...
If they just delivered it to the imperial family in Germania...
Then the marriage would not proceed.
She just hoped now, she just hoped now against all belief...
For that someone to play that card, and let her be free once more.
