Legacy Unfulfilled
"Her thoughts were on her children, her sons, and their forfeited inheritance."
Moments after her students leave in Scene 3, Book 1, Not Too Far From Home, Queen Ellaria walks her castle’s bailey.
Summer days were her least favorite. The heat. The humidity. The length. None of it was very appealing. Ellaria still stood in the center of the makeshift amphitheater that she led her discussions from, letting the sun beat down on her skin as she contemplated what she’d just heard.
Thinking she was alone, the Queen spoke out loud to herself. “What am I to do with him?”
“With who, Your Grace? You don’t mean me, do you?” A voice called to her from behind.
Damn it. That she kept to herself as she let her head drop before turning to meet Rohan’s eyes. He looked much like his grandfather, less so than his sire. The Glendors had been a part of the Ennead as long as the Shadoons. This boy’s lineage was as strong as any.
Divine take her if he were to be chosen.
“Rohan. I did not notice you’d stayed.” Ellaria clenched her jaw before continuing.
“Your words here today trouble me. You ought not be so flippant when discussing the wellbeing of so many. No matter the setting.”
His words echoed in her thoughts as he sauntered over. He walked like his grandfather used to - hands clasping his forearms behind his back-with his eyes in the grass.
He wasn’t timid. Anything but. Everything with Rohan was theater; he made it a point to add a bit of flair where he could. Thus she knew the moment he met her eyes once more that he’d calculated whatever words were to next leave his lips.
“Flippant, Your Grace? No.” He let those words linger on the moisture in the air.
“Just willing to say what others find distasteful to utter, yet revel in thinking. You know it.”
He was intent on continuing their discussion from earlier. But to what end? What was he here to prove?
He continued when she did not respond. “Force is a tool that we have at our disposal and one that far too many are afraid to use.”
“Is that so?” She gestured for him to follow her as she began to walk.
“It is, Your Grace.” He took two quick steps to catch up, then matched his pace to hers.
“Who is this we? I thought you couldn’t yet speak for your father?”
“The Ennead of course. It is our-” he started, before Ellaria cut in.
“Rohan, you are no member of the Nine. Your father may well be the last Glendor to hold a seat. By what right do you assume you’ll be chosen?”
She paused briefly, enough for him to hear her, and continued.
“The people are wont to choose someone who loathes them. One who thinks them unworthy of recompense when they feel they’ve been wronged. Yet you think they’d pick you?”
Undeterred, he spoke up immediately at her silence. “Your Grace, it is my name they will choose, not me.”
She tripped. She caught herself less than gracefully. Rohan made no attempt to catch her, either. He was saying something about the idea of the next Ennead not including a Glendor being tantamount to Athea without the Divine. She heard his words, yet they passed without making an impression.
Ellaria’s mind was on what he’d said that caused her to lose herself seconds earlier. Her thoughts were on her children, her sons, and their forfeited inheritance. The Queen had known this before either of them was born. She knew The Rule of Nine forbade it. Yet as a mother, she couldn’t help but imagine what it might be like for them after she was gone.
A basic maternal instinct, protect and provide for her children as much as she could. Yet here she was, the most powerful woman in the Republic, and none of it hers to give. Her grandmother’s intentions were clear, her words sparse. Ellaria knew them as she did her name.
An Ennead shall abdicate its power upon the death of the 3rd generation's monarch. Such a simple clause, with tremendously complex implications.
Upon the disentanglement of an Ennead, the people of The Republic Kingdom of Athea are to choose the next nine families to rule the Republic. For the Queen, this was always the weakest portion of The Rule of Nine.
Some Atheans had family that died on the side of the Empire. It was this that worried her most. That, and who they might choose if given the chance. Stop it. You mustn’t even consider it. It is not an option.
“Your Grace? Will you hear him?” Rohan finally looked up, signaling to Ellaria that she’d better make it seem as though she’d been listening.
She knew what he was asking after. Rohan lacked the physical resemblance but was his father’s son. Lord Glendor had long been a proponent of amending The Rule of Nine to include a provision to staying the disentanglement another generation.
With all the regality she could muster, she stopped and answered him. “I will hear your father’s scholar. Is he assuming I’d answer my student more favorably than my compatriot?”
“Thank you, Your Grace. And that very well may be so, but he also thinks I should start handling minor matters of diplomacy.” His face could not hide his satisfaction in her answer.
“Understood. Well, is that all?”
“It is. I’ll make my leave, Your Grace.” Rohan turned and nearly skipped away, he was so giddy.
Minor? He thinks it a minor matter to alter The Rule of Nine? The Queen wanted to scream. Instead, she continued on her walk alone.
She took her normal route through the castle grounds as she cleared her head. Her school was located in the upper castle bailey. Save Evermore Keep, not much else was there. She thought of it as her prison on high, and took any opportunity she could to make her escape.
The middle bailey consisted of a number of gatehouses, each connected by stone battlements constructed long before her family ever laid claim to Evermore. The smooth gray walls that surrounded the middle bailey were decorated with ornate crenellations. As a child, she could never understand how something so pretty could serve such a violent purpose.
The lowest bailey, where she now found herself, was home to one of Ennea’s most prominent marketplaces. Ellaria loved it there. The sounds of creaky old wagon wheels, the smells of the livestock, the bright colors the people would wear when they knew they were heading towards the castle, all reminded her of her childhood. Of the girl she used to be.
As she moved, the crowds parted before her. There was scarce a place in the entire Republic Kingdom the Queen could go and not be noticed. In her own city? Everyone recognized her.
She didn’t mind that. She loved her people. On this day, like any other, she met their smiles with one of her own. No blacksmith or stable hand could accuse her of hubris. Nor could any man in any barracks or any parishioner in any Divine Chapel call her a stranger. Ellaria was her people’s Queen.
From afar, she noticed a single figure standing firmly in her path. Of the dozens of people she’d passed, this one was the only not to move. There was but one who would dare to do such a thing; the thought immediately spurred Ellaria forward. Her pace quickened, from walk to jog. Her gown hiked up just enough so as to not drag across the lightly cobbled road as the Queen broke into a full on sprint.
Any who’d been old enough to know Ellaria as a child would not have been shocked to see their matriarch move in such a way. Others likely gasped at the sight. The Queen would’ve missed it.
As she got closer, her assumptions about the brazen figure who refused to move were vindicated. Once within arms reach Ellaria leapt into the arms of her old friend. They caught the Queen and the two spun, laughing, like young children. The Queen’s partner in this odd dance was tall, sinewy, and strapping as any. Travel and adventure would do that to a person, no matter their age.
As the Queen’s feet touched the path again she realized she was lightheaded. She gathered herself. Adjusted her clothes, straightened her tiara, tugged on her sleeves until they were even once more. With a sigh and an ear-to-ear smile, Ellaria spoke.
“Maggie. By the Divine, is that really you?” The Queen clasped at the brooch on her chest as she waited.
“Indeed it is, love. I should be the one asking who’s who now. My Ella, Queen of Athea. It has been years.” Maggie said as she reached down to grab the bags she’d dropped when Ellaria leapt into her arms.
Ella’s face softened. Her heart fluttered. With her hand at her waist she stuck her elbow out and invited Maggie to lock arms as she replied.
“Far too many…”