Sundown

Your Highness

Saoirse knew what she was venturing in was lethal but she would rather do it and be useful, than sit around and mope. Her mother had surprisingly agreed to meet her and none of them had thought that it was going to be this easy. Maybe it was the emotional manipulation. Maybe the woman was, to an extent, guilty of abandoning Saoirse.

She would never know what did the trick but she was glad that even though fatal, they had a single, last chance to save all of Elmcaster.

Timothee had been constantly reminding her of how brave she was and how he would never let anything happen to her, that he would be there to rescue her, disguised as one of the serving boys accompanying her should things go south, but who was going to tell him that it was not her life that she cared about? It was his- and of all the people who were dependent on him.

As she rode down the narrow winding path, with a long line of carts, men and women following behind her, she could not help but think about how she would ever face her mother. Should she be mad at her for abandoning her or would it be more appropriate to let her explain?

She looked behind her to see Timothee and Ansel, both disguised as page boys, sitting atop horses carrying a cart. They were talking, probably revisiting the course they planned to follow once they were let into the encampments. She sighed and her heart picked up pace as she could finally see the burning torches of the numerous enemy tents in the distance.

She wished she could kiss Timothee a last time. No one knew if the other would survive, but she would try her best. For him.

*

"Your Highness, they are here." The minister she had appointed to receive Saoirse and her little troop informed her make-shift court as Elliot's wife tightened her grip on her chair.

"Have they been inspected?" She asked.

"They have. Should we send the food carts they brought to the soldiers? The men are starving."

"Yes and send her in."

*

Saoirse had not known what to expect when she would finally meet her mother but it was definitely not this. As she entered the huge royal tent, she could hardly recognise the woman who sat in her high seat, covered in jewel studded armour, and a sleek crown of gold sitting gracefully on her brow.

Was this who her mother really was?

"Your Highness." Saoirse said, unwillingly bowing in front her.

She noticed that her mother had lost all the softness she had once had in her face. Her countenance was no more than a hard, emotionless wall now and in that instant, Saoirse knew that she had lost the woman she had loved so well, likely forever.

"You won't call me mother now?" Her voice was gentle, familiar but Saoirse could not find it in her to trust it.

"You've taken away my reasons to call you that."

"Someone is bitter." Her mother spoke with a chuckle.

"I think we should take this conversation somewhere private. Come with me." The woman got up and walked out of the tent with Saoirse at her heels.

She followed her silently, one hand always resting at the hilt of the sword she had strapped to her waist inside her cloak. They walked through burnt patches of land and Saoirse saw grunting, wounded soldiers being tended to and still others, taking off their armours to rest for the night.

She wondered where Timothee and Ansel were.

Her mother abruptly stopped by a small cottage, that looked like it had been hit by a cannonball. Its roof had been blown off and little straw patches remained.

When she tried reaching for Saoirse's hands, she withdrew and took a few steps back.

"Why didn't you ever tell me about any of this?"

"If I hadn't been able to ever capture power, would you have lived such a lowly life in that castle, knowing you were the true mistress of it all?" Her mother replied.

"I... don't know. But you could have told me about it before you escaped!"

"So you could inform your beloved princess or her brother? You know you have always been more theirs than mine."

"But you trust me enough now to let me in here?"

"What could you possibly do? I'm a single step away from getting back what's rightfully mine."

"I still had a right to know who my father was. I know it would have been hard to accept the fate that I had been reduced to, but I would have come around to it at some point. Timothee's father won these isles in fair battle. I would not have held it against them for long."

"And what about the murder of your father?"

"I said I would not hold winning Elmcaster against him, not that it was alright for him to render me fatherless. The man is dead now anyway and indeed it was a slow, painful death for him." Saoirse said.

This conversation was exhausting her more than anything ever had, but she deserved to get her answers. Her mother was not helping too much with it as all she did was answer a question with another question, trying to pin it all on anyone but herself.

"Don't you think you should be the one sitting on Elmcaster's throne and not that pretty boy of yours?" Her mother asked after a while.

"Would you give it to me should you win this war?"

That took her mother aback.

"No. You did not work for it. I did."

"Then I would rather side with Timothee than you. At least, he never lied to me." Saoirse declared and before she knew it, her mother had drawn out her sword, causing Saoirse to do the same.

"Who told you that you'd escape here to side with him?" Her mother said but before she could charge at her, a series of blasts resounded all around them.

Both Saoirse and her mother were blown off of their feet. With a painful crash, she landed a little way off, her mother landing close by.

"Don't tell me..." The woman's eyes widened with realization.

"Did you really think I'd bring you food? The carts had explosives."

a/n

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Smriti.