Let The Games Begin.

Excommunication

     "Mother." I say, eyeing her curiously as she is brought before the throne, stationed to the left of the pairs of magistrates. 

     "A trial? In my throne room-" she scoffs, clasping her shackled hands together at her chest. 

One of the hoplites steps forward, saying, "You do not appear to be the one on the throne. This is no longer your throne room. Especially not after what you did to the princess."

My eyes widen. "Everyone knows?" I question, looking around the room. Each person nods. I catch movement behind the magistrates in the main hall and squint to see that it's only Taolo. Waving him in, I dismiss his apology for being late and motion for him to stand beside Marcellus. 

The senior Magistrate, in favor of tradition, sets down his chalice of wine, uncrosses his legs at the knee, and stands. "We are here today for a trial between mother and daughter for the accusation of attempted murder by poisoning. Certainly with the requests your daughter has made, this will not be easy on her."  

     "Wait-" I say, glancing over at my mother. "I have seriously considered surrendering the throne back to you on the grounds that you accept a different set of terms."

She raises a brow, eyeing my curiously. I continue, "You accept and acknowledge that I, as princess, and only princess, once more will not be plotting against you in any way. You, in turn, cease all attempts on my life."

My mother ponders my words. "I know you well, Integra." Hearing her say my name nearly brings tears to my eyes. "You will never cease to continuously attempt to overpower me. You have been given too much liberty and I know you won't relinquish it." She narrows her eyes at me. "The only way for either of us to reign in peace is for the other to be dead."

I gasp. No! No no no. She can't be doing this to me! Not my mom! Before I ever knew her as queen, I knew her as my mother and that's all she ever was to me. In this moment, I needed my mother. Not a condescending witch. I bite the inside of my lip to will away the tears. Glancing at the magistrates, and then into my lap, I mumble, "Continue." Trying my best to conceal my pitiful crying, I rest my elbows on my knees and lean down to frame my hands around my face. A sturdy hand comes to rest on my shoulder, patting it gently. 

The senior magistrate continues, "What discouraging words." I can see from his shadow cast on the granite floor from the sunlight pouring through the garden door that he is shaking his head. "Before we read you your accusations, we have some questions."

     "Go on," My mother says, "Spit it out."

     "You are the richest person in this nation with two sources of income? Impossible. Where are your other sources. Where did you hide them, and/or redistribute them to?"

My mother laughs. "After her father died," She nods her head in my direction, "I began selling my portions. Since the crops are always rotating and fabrics are not only constantly improving, but always in demand, I saved them until the end. I was going to transfer them to her when she married. Which, of course, still hasn't happened-"

I wipe my hands over my face, sitting back in the throne, eyeing my mother angrily. Achilles removes his hand from my shoulder, crossing them in front of his body.

The magistrate continues, shuffling the papers in his hand. Glancing at the others, he says, "Due to lack of evidence for another story and accurately corresponding records, I believe it to be true. All in favor, raise your right hand." Several raise their hands. When the votes and tallied and recorded, the senior magistrate glances down at the papers in his hand. "We have not only physical evidence that the princess was poisoned-"