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It’s a bit embarrassing, really. Asad, Captain of the Royal Astrasian Mage Forces, lost inside Pharamond Castle! He shakes his head and sighs at his own incompetence. If Roberto were here, he would undoubtedly be making some snide, haughty remark this very moment. (The place is laid out like a labyrinth, though, with ornate stairwells leading to unfurnished rooms and dead-end corridors lined with oddly-placed windows. Asad suspects that it was built to confuse hostile occupants. He also suspects that he may be slightly drunk on Gadburg’s “specially-brewed” wine, which is not helping his situation at all.)
Asad looks around and sizes up his options. He could continue down this vaguely-familiar-but-not-really hallway, or he could take the suspicious winding staircase to his right in the hopes of ending up somewhere in the vicinity of his sleeping quarters. He pauses for a moment, thinking, and then decides to take a chance with the staircase. He is nothing if not a daredevil, after all.
He emerges atop the Western Wall and is momentarily deafened by a resounding bang. A flash of bright blue blossoms in the night sky, hovering over the lake in the distance, flickering and sparkling beautifully before fading away. A few seconds later, two flashes of silver follow suit, and soon the air is thick with the acrid scent of smoke. Asad watches the display with wide-eyed astonishment. What were they called again? Fireworks? They had been a gift from a certain silver-haired noble, who had sent Khemia to deliver them in his stead. Khemia’s complex explanation of how they worked had gone completely over Asad’s head. Magic he could understand, but “pyrotechnics”? Such things were beyond his grasp.
It is only after the last firework has died away that Asad notices something: he is not alone. A little ways down the ramparts, a figure in silver armor stands and stares out into the night. Asad draws closer, hesitant, and is shocked to see that oh-so-familiar face.
“Queen Chrodechild!” he exclaims, and like always he can feel his heart beat just a little bit faster, a faint blush creeping to his cheeks (luckily his tanned skin hides such things well). “I… I did not expect to find you here, of all people!”
Suddenly, as if looking down upon himself from afar, he is acutely aware of the stupid, drunken smile on his face and the haphazard state of his dress uniform and the way his hair seems to be sticking up in the back and just refuses to lie flat, damn it. Of course he just had to run into the Queen herself, didn’t he?
But Chrodechild does little more than glance back at him with a faint half-smile. “Good evening, Asad,” she says. “When I was a little girl, I often came here to escape the suffocating pomp and circumstance of the court. And wouldn’t you know it? Twenty years later I find myself here for the very same reason. Funny, the way things work.” She laughs quietly, but the sound rings false. “But I suppose I should cease my nostalgic ramblings. How did you find the fireworks display, Captain?”
“It was quite dazzling,” Asad admits. “Lord Tsaubern was gracious to give us such a gift. I don’t claim to comprehend Ritterschildian technology, but there is something rather… exciting about it, I think.” Asad’s gaze slides back towards Chrodechild, who seems preoccupied by some terribly heavy thought. He can see the way she stoops beneath it, struggling to carry it alone.
“I… I do not mean to be impertinent, My Queen… But are you alright? If I may speak freely, you seem to be troubled by something. Is there anything I can do to help?”
Chrodechild truly looks at him then, and the moment their eyes meet a pang of longing jolts through him. She’s been growing her hair out lately, and it curls like a golden vine around the delicate shell of her ear. Occasionally an errant strand will fall across her face, and every time Asad has to suppress the urge to reach out and brush it back.
“Time passes much too quickly,” she says, and her voice sounds tired and thin. “To think that it is already the second anniversary of Astrasia’s liberation… I should be overjoyed for love of my kingdom, should I not? And yet with each passing day the expectations placed upon me grow more and more difficult to bear…”
“What do you mean, milady?”
Chrodechild sighs and leans against the parapet. “The Council wishes for me to marry,” she says. “They say that we must plan for the future of Astrasia – secure the lineage of my family. And, in their words, my marriage to a man of ‘suitable upbringing’ would bring much happiness to the people.”
Asad opens his mouth to say something, but no words come. His throat feels thick and his tongue leaden, and there is a sharp pain in his chest that he can’t quite place. Chrodechild… is to be married? For some reason the possibility has never even occurred to him before. She is gorgeous and distant and untouchable, like a glimmering star, and he cannot fathom the idea of her being tethered to some man, some haughty noble who’s never experienced hardship –
“I would love to help my people in any way, and if that means getting married then perhaps…” Chrodechild pauses and shakes her head. “But I most certainly cannot wed an aristocrat. I do not wish to see my kingdom turned into a stage for petty schemes and political machinations. Nor do I wish to have my reign invalidated by some newly-crowned King.”
Asad pushes his feelings aside and finds his voice once more. “Perhaps you should marry for love, milady,” he suggests. “The citizens of Astrasia wish for their Queen’s happiness just as much as you wish for theirs.”
“Love?” Chrodechild echoes the word back to him, as if testing it out. “A fine sentiment, Captain, and one that I wish I could believe in. But things like love are difficult to come across, doubly so when you have a kingdom to rule. I’m afraid I just don’t have the time to go searching for the perfect suitor.”
“What about Meruvis?” Asad asks, and immediately curses his own helpfulness. “He is well-known and respected throughout the Kingdom – the people would support him wholeheartedly if he became your husband. And no one can question his loyalty to the crown.”
“You are right about that,” Chrodechild says, smiling wryly. “Meruvis is loyal to a fault. If I went to him right now and ordered him to take his own life, he would do so with only a moment’s hesitation. That kind of imbalance… should not exist in a marriage. It may be foolish to uphold such ideals, but I believe that marriage should be between two people on equal terms. One should not wield power over the other. And so I cannot marry Meruvis. It would be unfair to him in many ways.”
Silence falls but for the muffled sounds of music and laughter carried on the breeze. The festivities must still be going on down by the lakeside, and Asad anticipates several more hours of merriment before the celebration finally dies down. Astrasians, usually such a calm and practical bunch, certainly know how to throw a party…
“I’m sorry, Captain,” Chrodechild says finally. “I’ve kept you far too long, listening to my selfish complaints. I hope you weren’t in a rush.”
“Oh no, not at all, milady! I was just headed back to my sleeping quarters, actually.”
“Your… quarters?” The queen raises a quizzical eyebrow. “But those are on the other side of the castle…”
Of course. No wonder nothing looked familiar.
“Ah, well, you see, I may be a bit… lost,” Asad mumbles. “Pharamond Castle is wonderful, really it is, but it’s also…”
“Bewildering?” Chrodechild laughs, and this time it is genuine. “Trust me, I know. There are places in this castle that even Fredegund and I have yet to explore. Come, follow me. I’ll escort you to your quarters.”
Before he has time to protest she is striding away, and he has to jog to catch up.
--
--
“Perhaps I should marry you, Captain.”
Asad stops, his hand hovering just above the doorknob. He slowly turns to looks at her. She’s smiling in an amused, lighthearted sort of way – it’s just a joke, after all, an offhand comment. He should be happy, to see her smile like that, but instead he just feels numb.
She might has well have slapped him in the face.
He forces a smile in return. “But I am not Astrasian by birth, milady,” he says. “I am both a commoner and an outsider.”
“Hmm… I suppose. But the people think highly of you, you know – they are aware of your role in the battle against the Order, and they can see how dedicated you are to the Kingdom. The Council would surely object, but their views become more antiquated and trite with each passing day.” Her smile broadens. “Yes, I think you would make a fine candidate, Captain.”
There it is again, he thinks. That single strand of soft blonde hair, falling out of place.
And suddenly, unwittingly, he’s reaching out towards her. Stop it, he tells himself. What are you doing? But common sense seems to have deserted him. His fingertips graze her cheek lightly as he brushes the hair from her face and tucks it behind her ear. Her green eyes widen in shock at the unexpected touch, and for a long moment they stand there, staring at one another, unsure of what just passed between them.
“Chrodechild,” he murmurs. “You are one of the kindest people I have ever met. But sometimes… Sometimes you can also be so very cruel. Unintentional, I’m sure. But cruelty all the same.”
He sighs quietly.
“Good night, milady.”
And then he steps through the door and shuts it behind him, leaving the Queen alone with her thoughts.
--
--
When Chrodechild wakes the next morning, her cheek is still warm where Asad’s fingertips brushed her skin. She lifts a hand to her face unconsciously, wondering if she had somehow hallucinated the whole event. But no, she thinks. The pained expression on Asad’s face had been all too real.
What had he meant, she wonders, about unintentional cruelty? She’s not a foolish woman by any means – the implication of his words and that gesture were clear as day. But that can’t be right, she thinks. Asad cannot possibly have such feelings… towards me.
“Good morning, milady,” chirps Reni, the chambermaid. The girl sweeps about the room in a flurry of activity, laying out Chrodechild’s clothing and arranging the bedsheets and opening the draperies to allow sunlight in. “Have a nice sleep?”
“Not as nice as I would have liked,” Chrodechild admits, stretching her aching joints. “I feel as if my dreams were restless, and yet I can’t remember them at all.”
“A pity, that is,” Reni says. “Dreams can tell a lot about what a person’s really thinking, deep down. Helpful when you’re trying to sort out your priorities, if you know what I mean. And speaking of, you’re looking rather preoccupied this morning, milady. Something on your mind?”
“I don’t rightly know,” Chrodechild sighs. “There are many things on my mind, and they all seem to be warring for my attention. It’s rather disconcerting.”
Reni looks at her for a moment, then giggles. A secretive smile tugs at the corners of her lips. “Oh I see,” she says. “You’re thinking about a man, aren’t you?”
“W-what?”
“Now, now, don’t try to deny it! I’ve seen that look many a time. Confused, and a little bit frightened by what the future might hold, but lovesick all the same.” Reni picks up the pillow she’s fluffing and hugs it delightedly. “The beautiful queen, thinking fondly of her handsome prince… Oh, it’s so romantic!”
“Handsome… prince? No, Reni, you’re mistaken. It’s far more complicated than that – ”
But the girl is already twirling away, lost in her fantasies of fairy tale romance.
--
--
“Captain Asad seeks an audience with you, milady.”
Chrodechild glances up from the financial report she’s reading. “Ah, yes,” she says. “I’ve been expecting him. Send him in.”
She would have a hard time describing Asad’s appearance as “nervous.” “Scared witless” would perhaps be more apropos. He keeps tugging at his collar as if it’s choking him, and there is genuine, unadulterated fear in his eyes. He drops to his knees in front of the throne and stares pointedly at the floor, unwilling to meet her gaze.
“My Queen,” he says, and his voice is soft and trembling. “I have come here to apologize for my unscrupulous, brazen behavior while in your presence last night. I acted in a fashion most untoward, and said many things that were both disrespectful and shameless. Surely, I had partaken in few glasses of wine beforehand, but that is no excuse! Please accept my humble apology and punish me however you see fit!”
Chrodechild has to stop herself from laughing. So cute, she thinks.
“Rise, Captain,” she says. “And do not abase yourself so! I took no offense to your behavior last night. In fact… it may be I who owes you an apology.”
Asad looks at her like she’s gone insane.
She smiles regretfully. “I am still unsure as to why, but… I may have made a careless remark last night that hurt you deeply. And for that I must ask your forgiveness. Will you grant it?”
“I… What… Y-yes, of course!” Asad stammers. “But there is no need to beg forgiveness from a person like me, milady!”
“On the contrary,” Chrodechild says. “If one person has wronged another, it is customary to make amends, regardless of silly things like status. That is what I believe. Now let us put this whole affair behind us, eh Captain?”
He blinks, confused, but nods his head in agreement all the same.
“Good, good,” she says. “Oh, and Asad? I will be sitting in on the Mage Forces’ tactical maneuvers practice this afternoon. I expect to see great improvement in the new recruits.”
--
--
Asad smiles shakily as he exits the Throne Room.
(Perhaps he should get lost more often.)