For What is Bought in Blood

For the Greater Good

I awaken to my hair being brushed. I do not have to turn over to know it is the gentle hands of Hollie.

            My room is lit with candles. The dress I had custom made lay in a dark puddle on the floor, my heels and sheath not far from it. I do not remember dreaming, but the cold sweat on my body suggests it is not one I want to know of anyway. Tears have dampened the pillow beneath my head. Hollie says nothing. I must have awoken her with my nightmare due to the lack of sunlight creeping through the curtain seams.

            "I am sorry I disturbed you," my voice cracks. She stalls her brushing, surprised I spoke at all.

            "I was not sleeping, do not worry." Her voice is only a whisper. She must have left and found a servant who was present to find out what happened. The whole kingdom likely knows by now. I squeeze my eyes shut, two fresh tears leaking out.

            "You cannot escape this," her voice is sad, but she says what I already know. "You must be brave. For your people."

            I feel myself nodding, but it is empty. I do not agree, I cannot. I was never meant to sit still, raised to adapt and change as my kingdom demanded. The idea of being heavy with child, endlessly fussed over, then handing that child over to my mother... it is the most bitter tasting tonic I have ever swallowed.

            What happens if the babe I produce is not a boy? Will these children be discarded, or dressed in finery and be married off one day, just as my mother hoped would happen to me? Would my mother dare to remove me completely from their lives after birth?

            Hollie brings me a steaming bowl of soup, and I hold it in my lap. The heat of the bowl in my hands stings, and I find myself staring into the brown liquid. It swirls around listlessly, jostled by my attempt to sit up fully in bed. I cannot help but think of what pushed me from the castle in the first place.

            Mother was improving daily. It had been a few months, and the people were happy to return the royal crests back to their posts. She was incorporating lighter colors into her dresses, crimson lace dragging against the stone floor erupting smiles from many of her closest Ladies. She had even begun having regular tea with her friends in court.

            I was practically bubbling with excitement. All these months of her mourning, and I had been right by her side. We had never been close before, but I felt as if she was beginning to see me as an asset, and not her reproductive failure. In her darkest nights I would bathe her, feed her, ensure she rested. Though she was sick with grief, I finally felt as if I had a mother.

            One morning, I awaited her at the breakfast table. Her breakfast room had never been used by father, so it held no strong memories of him, hence why she started her day there in mourning. Along the walls hung portraits of past queens and princesses, all sat in thrones adorning the family crown. The yawning sun peeked through the windows. I was feeling hopeful and happy.

            Much time passed. No food was brought, no Queen to enjoy the first light of morning. I asked a quickly passing servant in the hall if they'd seen the Queen today.

"She requested her breakfast today in Counselor Ervan's bedchambers."

            I remember the cool feeling that washed over me. I had to drown my emotions immediately instead of showing the servant my surprise. She ducked her head and continued down the hall.

            From that day forward, the Queen was no longer in mourning. There were no more council meetings, just days and nights spent with Ervan. Meals were rarely held that I could attend, guards posted at every entrance to dispel my attempts to enter. Soon my mother was nothing but a voice for the policies of Ervan to be communicated with the people. She was hosting parties, inviting various landowners to join court, and putting herself on display for all to see that she was better.