Queen's Scars

Chapter Forty: Mare

I apologize for the (incredibly!) long wait. But here is the final chapter of Queen's Scars! It's been almost year, and here we are. We've see some serious ups and downs (mostly downs) through out the story, and it has been a pleasure to watch you all read. Please enjoy and have a lovely day- 😈

I stare out the window of Maven's old office, looking at the destroyed wreckage of the gardens I used to watch every day from my prison cell of a room. It feels satisfying to see it destroyed. To remind me there is a new order here. My children's.

After Mavens death, the crown technically belonged to me. I am his spouse. Unfortunately. The Slivers of court were very displeased with me getting the crown, muttering jabs at me behind my back, like I haven't been hearing this for the past twenty or so years. But lucky for them, I didn't want this bloodstained crown anyway. It held too many memories. Too much death, too much bloodshed and war.

I was more than happy to give it to my children, who basically dissolved the monarchy. Norta is now what Julian likes to call an democracy. Currently, just to get everyone situated, they are ruling. But once the turmoil has passed, there will be three elected leaders in their place. My children of course, will try to keep a slight eye on things with help from Evangeline, and certain young lady Hestia has admired.

I breath a deep sigh of relief. So this is what freedom looks like.

It was a messy trail, full of things I will never forget and things I wish would forget. But for better or for worse it has shaped me. I am better for it. And so are many others.

I attended Maven's funeral. It was a small somber affair, held mostly for family. Even though I loathe what he has done to me and what he has made me do, the smallest bit of me still recalls the ghost prince called by a different name. The shadow prince. The spare.

And sometimes I thought I saw glimpses of him through out my seemingly endless imprisonment. But the ghost prince stayed less and less each time, leaving only a cruel king. But it the irrational part of me still loves that one prince. And so a part of me mourns with it.

Cameron didn't really have a funeral, more just a quiet gathering. Turns out her brother was still alive. It was hard to break him the news, but as someone who had lost everyone she'd ever loved, I had a good idea of how to help.

He is now sho in be the representative for the reds.

"Mom?" A voice calls behind me. I flinch, before remembering that it is merely my children, and not someone here to hurt me. I am free.

"Hello." After years of being forced to address each other so formally, the openness feels welcoming. We all stand together, comfortable in a way only fellow soldiers can be.

"What are you thinking about?" I hear Maven say it and I flinch away, starting to panic. Is this just a dream? Am I trapped again? My breathing heaves. "Mom, it's just us. Father's a bit dead."

"Could you try and be more tactful Tia?"

"I'm sorry, I'm just trying to help El!" I can practically hear the eye roll. As the two sisters bicker, one of the boys gently touches my shoulder.

"Hey mom? I know you're panicked, so maybe try counting down from 100? I'll do it with you. 100, 99, 98, 97..."

As we keep going, I regain my composure. My children resume talking to one another. I'm embarrassed at my reaction, although I doubt someone could blame me for it. Julian says after a traumatic event, it can be difficult to break free from its memory. One helpful tactic to calm the discomfort is the change of scenery. A change of scenery....

As my children talk, I turn to them.

"I think I need to leave." They turn to me in shock. I quickly explain. "Just for a little while. I need some time away from this palace. I can't feel trapped here anymore. I love you all but I need some time on my own, some space. You do understand, don't you?"

"I do," Clara interjects. She's more assertive now, more sure of her place in this world. She has her mother's spirit and her father's heart. "And if you wanted to go, aunt Mare, I would go with you."

"You would do that?" Clara shrugs as Zeus asks her incredulously.

"Why not? I want to see the world, and she wants her freedom. We can travel together to stay safe. And you can always get guidance from Julian, should you need any." My children look unsure. Clara's face softens. "You must understand, freedom is commodity few have had. And when there is an opportunity for it, it must be seized." My children slowly but surely begin to agree.

I smile, exhaling.

Freedom. A word I could never truly define. But I think I found it. Hope. Hope is what frees you when you're trapped, and reminds you the world still cares about you deep down.

That you still have a chance to embrace your scars and come out more beautiful for understanding them.

For me, that's the happy ending I need.