Metanoia: The Sovereign and the Commander

Chapter Two

It took Emmaline a sum total of five minutes to understand what in all the hells just happened. When she finally had the stability enough to sit up, she went all the way to getting out of bed. Perhaps the disillusions of being in this strange and foreign place was skewing with her perception of reality. But Emmaline was a warrior, and as a warrior, she had prepared herself for all sorts of things to come at her; whether those things were physical or mental, she would have to do her best to handle it. After all, she was the youngest person to become Commander of the army of Pagmantazdri. Surely, even at her meager 20 years, she would have learned something more of the world around her and how to manage in it.

Cruel and accursed world this is, that she now stood here in a room offered to her by the feared which queen — a woman she has willingly agreed to marry. Emmaline was suddenly regretting her decision. Maybe she had gone into this without thinking about it, and there were going to be dire consequences to this if she went on with it. But the gods had not brought her here for no reason, right? She hoped so.

Fate shaken, Emmaline steadies herself with a few deep breaths and looks around the room for something to wear. She had not brought a pack of clothes with her, and she could very well not wear the same clothes she came in to breakfast. Armour was hardly worn for social events, though in keeping with Serayan customs, everything always ended up being rather lavish without needing to be.

Looking for a closet of some sort, Emmaline hardly heard the soft footfalls of the two handmaidens she had sent away last night. Turning around with a dagger brandished, she wondered if she managed to scare them just a little. Those damn veils made it impossible for her to know. "Good morning, Lady Emmaline. Her Grace, Llevazy Emrys, has asked us to prepare you for breakfast with Her Royal Highness." Their voices even sounded monotone, as if working here had drained them of something distinctly lifelike.

Emmaline straightens up, lording over them with her height. "Thank you, then." She wants to sound commanding, like the great warrior she is or the future queen she will be, but she had always been a soul too kind for her own good. She softens her voice and her features a bit, even offering the pair of veiled girls a smile. "Please, if you can, be gentle with me. I confess I know very little of the customs here in Specaptio."

Neither of them respond except to in line their heads in what Emmaline assumes was a nod. They guide her gently to a set of double doors, leading her to the bath and letting her take off her clothes; there, they scrub her skin with stones and herbs that leave it looking soft and pink, and lather her hair with sweet-smelling oils that bring a certain shine to her flaxen-wheat hair that makes it almost golden. She senses herself dozing off a bit as it seems only a heartbeat later when she is already sitting at a vanity and the girls are braiding her hair with long, thin pieces of intertwined silver and gold. They make a simple twist of her hair, then adorning her ears, neck, and wrists with simple silver jewelry reminiscent of the ones they put in her hair. Emmaline is dressed in a dark blue shift lined with silver embellishing, made of the softest fabrics that seem to move on their own. To top it all off, she is wrapped in a rather heavy coat made from the pelt of a great creature, made to aide her in the cold of Specaptio.

Emmaline can hardly recognize herself when the handmaidens step away, letting her behold herself in the small platform half-surrounded by five mirrors on each side. She doesn't know how to feel about it, knowing she has been made into this thing that will please her fianceé. It reminds her faintly of the way Jakob had always created little things for her to wear, to have; she knew now that it was his way of laying his claim on her, and she was doubtful that Severin had anything of a different intention. People who seek power act only in the way that earns them further leverage over anyone else who could have that authority they crave so ardently.

The Commander was having a rather terrible feeling that maybe she had escaped the jaws of one monster, only to run into the claws of another.

Not wanting to let her anxiety show, she kept a neutral expression as she let her handmaidens lead her out of the room. Neither of them spoke a word to her, which was just fine with Emmaline, who truly didn't want to come into terms with the doubts running around in her mind. They continue to walk silently down the carpeted hallways, leading them to the great hall where the Sovereign took their meals unless some other fit seizes them. Emmaline sits on the other side of a long table, seeing Severin on the other side, surrounded less by food and more by parchments and papers, muttering to herself as she read through them. She doesn't really know what to do, unaccustomed to the ways they had here and unsure whether she should eat the sumptuous meal in front of her or wait till Severin did. After all, in Pagmantazdri, to eat before the King did when in his presence was to ask for certain death. She was not looking for anything of the sort. No matter how her mouth watered, she would be waiting patiently.

"Waiting for me, darling? How sweet of you." Severin's voice startles her, but Emmaline looks up to pay respect at the Sovereign who has yet to lift their eyes from a mountain of paperwork. "You're free to eat, don't you worry. The cooks will certainly be rather affronted if we both let the food go cold."

"Why have you not eaten yet? My King?"

Severin looks up with a cheeky, little smile. "Getting used to our ways, I see. And I must first devour these foolish old men who seek to take my kingdom from me before I can take part in any meal."

"If you follow along with that thinking, I doubt you'll last long enough till we are wed."

"Aw, will you miss me, Emma dearest? Attached already, are you?"

"Only concerned. You are my betrothed after all, and as a warrior, I pledged my loyalty to you as King. It's only right that I look out for you." Emmaline closes her eyes, lips moving without a sound as she thanks the gods for the food they've put before her. She was certainly thankful for their many kindness over the past year. She looks up to find Severin's full attention in her, having put the papers down and watching Emmaline with the sort of intensity that she's watched dogs have when they're hunting rabbits. The warrior had always been more used to being a dog than a rabbit. "Your gaze worries me, your majesty. One might enter here and think you were trying to ravish me with just a look."

"How bold of you to assume that that isn't what I'm trying to do." The Sovereign's smile turns sharkish, bearing her teeth at Emmaline like biting her would be enough of a meal than the breakfast feast before them. "Still, I see your point. One cannot simply rule a country on an empty stomach." She calls for a servant with just a gesture of her hand, having them take away the documents and letters in front of her. "Let us feast then!"