Metanoia: The Sovereign and the Commander

Chapter One

After agreeing that they were going to talk more about this endeavour on the following day, Severin had the matron of the palace bring Commander Graves to one of the spare rooms available in the palace. As hesitant as Emmaline was to leave the presence of the only person she trusted, her fiancé assured her that the matron was to be trusted.

Seeing the matron reminded Emmaline of a kind aunt she had long ago, and though there was little reason to be so comfortable in such a strange place, she didn't want to be too avoidant about it. After all, knowing that she was going to commit to Severin's insane revenge plot at the end of all this, she needed to make friends and not enemies around here. It was her proficiency in that area that made her the commander of Pagmantazdri, and she was going to have to do her best to put it to good use now.

Giving a cordial smile to the matron, Alivia was her name, Emmaline walks with steps of grace and dignity alongside the elegant woman who could not have been more than 50. Alivia returns the smile, speaking for the first time between them. "I was rather surprised to know that the King had finally chosen a bride. It has been a few years since the last Sovereign died, and, well, we were getting quite concerned as to the possibility that the King might rule all on her own if left to her own devices."

"I can only imagine. Did you expect that bride to be a warrior from a neighbouring kingdom?"

"On the contrary, my lady, you are the perfect portrait of the sort of woman that the King would choose and the kind that Specaptio needs. The land of Serayah is far too vast for us to trek, knowing we are at its edge. Though Severin imagines herself capable of one day conquering it all, it will only be a matter of time before she realizes just how foolish that ambition is." Alivia looks over her shoulder, smiling secretively. "But now she has you. And you, my lady, are the salvation for us all."

"I am not going to help the Quee- King ravage the other kingdoms of Serayah." Emmaline recovers, not quite used to the terminology. The expectations they had for her didn't quite help either.

Alivia watches her closely, slowing her steps down so they were at the same pace. She was about a head taller than Emmaline, with a structure that seemed almost hand-carved by the gods before being placed down here on earth. She was stunning; Emmaline didn't know if she wanted to be like Alivia or have the matron on top of her. Either way, the urge to have Alivia approve of her was present, and the Commander was uncomfortable with the scrutinizing look the matron gave her. After what felt like an eternity, Alivia continues walking, her eyes passing over several paintings and artefacts that they pass by, all bathed in the moonlight passing through the colourful stained-glass of Specaptio's grand palace. "Whatever it is you claim that you will do, or rather, will not do, are subjective things, Lady Emmaline. I would advise against being too definitive in your current opinions, for I'm sure the coming days will be changing your mind quite a lot." She gives her a smile that borders on menacing as she opens a set of doors into a parlour. She then explains that these 4 rooms within are to be Emmaline's quarters for the time being, and she will be transferred to the Queen's Quarters once the wedding was held. There were two women appointed to be Emmaline's handmaidens, unnamed and faceless due to the veils that covered them, which unnerved the warrior slightly.

In Pagmantazdri, the only ones who wore veils were those who were chosen as sacrifices to the Deity of Death; here, in Specaptio, those who were servants in the palace were veiled, even their soldiers — everyone who served the Sovereign except the Lord Chancellor and the Palace Matron would not have an identity apart from being a servant. Something about that made Emmaline a little discomfiting, but she chose to be respectful of the customs that they had here in her. . .new home. She thanks Alivia for her help, and once the matron was gone, she sent the handmaidens away as well.

Alone once more, Emmaline takes her heavy coat off and lets it fall to the floor with a noticeable thud. Taking a deep breath as she rolls her shoulders, she then took off her armour part by part; each bit of metal making a clink and a clank as they fell away. She stores them on a form in the corner of the room, taking a small dagger from her set and putting it underneath her pillow. The bed here was larger and softer than the one she had back in Pagmantazdri, where luxury was not poured out on making things cosy, but on making everything brighter and shinier. A warm bed that evoked images of sleeping on a cloud with a pillow made of the softest feathers was simply not the image of luxury they cared for, though the tired commander could see now that her people were fools to ignore such a glorious thing. Letting out a soft noise of relief, Emmaline's fatigue catches up to her and her eyes are shut the moment before she even takes another breath.

The images passing through her mind as she sleeps are ones that remind her of things she would rather forget. Screaming crowds. A red-stained knife. Crimson dripping cold down her stomach. The crown rightfully hers, stolen away by a man who loved his ambition more than he did her.

Emmaline's brain reminds her of the way Jakob used to smile at her when they were young; how his emerald green eyes lit up with absolute delight whenever he listened to her talk about all the things she learned in training. It shows her the many late afternoons they spent on the hill that they claimed as their own, and the way he walked her home before the stars twinkled into existence. He had made her feel as if all the world was waiting for her ascendancy.

All the while plotting her fall.

She couldn't forget that, no matter how much her heart still ached for him or how hard she fell for his charms.

But falling for Jakob Lazkhavac had been like jumping into a lagoon filled with cold water and an unknown end; trying to get out of her dreams-turned-nightmares was like trying endlessly to break through the surface of the water and never finding it. She could see the sun, but it was too far out of her reach.

And the sun reaches out to her, one delicately calloused hand pulling her up and out of the water in one swift motion. Through blurry vision and lungs that were adjusting to gulping in fresh air, Emmaline sees the smile of the woman she was now betrothed to.

"Silly Emma, what were you doing in the deep end?" Even in her dreams, Severin's voice is vividly dreamlike, something light yet deep, as if Severin was indeed many different things all at once. Emmaline liked that about her, and she all the more liked the way the Sovereign called her 'Emma'.

She sits up, coughing up water before replying. "I thought I could take it. I'm usually a very good swimmer."

"Oh darling, no one's a very good swimmer in their nightmares."

"So this is a dream?"

"Of course it is. Don't you know it?"

"I do, I-" But did she really? And how come Severin was here? "What are you even doing here? It's rather rare that those in a dream bring attention to the fact that it is one."

"Call me curious, Emma dear. I have no dreams of my own and everyone else's are quite boring tonight. I thought to visit yours, might try to get to know you just a tad bit more past the whole 'I'm the Commander of an army and you're probably not even that good of a warrior, you witch' façade that you have on." Emmaline had to admit; Severin's impression of her, while mocking, was rather good.

She shakes her head, standing to her wobbly feet. "How on earth-"

"Oh dear, looks like you're waking up. See you at breakfast, darling." Severin blows her a kiss before everything turns back to wispy blackness.