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Herrah turned her attention to the lone clock on her nightstand, groaning upon seeing that it was three in the morning. It was one of the few items she had in this new bedchamber. The room felt far too large to her, no one needed this much space. She debated changing rooms for a moment. She knew she’d probably be able to sleep if she was in a smaller bedchamber. She sat up and rubbed her face. No, no, she was the queen now, she had to live and act as a queen would. She had enough problems as it was, she couldn’t afford to add unnecessary fuel to the animosity Deepnest’s nobility held towards her.
With a sigh she got up and grabbed the oddly soft robe that hung next to her dresser.
Maybe if I walk around the den I’ll start to feel a bit better…
Herrah stopped at the doorway of the bedchamber, a sense of anxiety rising through her. Would there be an issue if she were to be seen wandering the halls at such an hour? What could she possibly tell anyone who saw her? She couldn’t say that she was on patrol, that kind of work was beneath a queen and would only serve to weaken her power politically. She couldn’t tell anyone that she was having trouble sleeping, any doubts about her well-being would weaken the morale of her supporters. No, she had to remain the rock upon which all of Deepnest could lean. Was there anything she could say—
Herrah froze as her mind wandered to the old throne room—now a shrine to Deepnest’s late king.
As long as it appeared as though she had been there, it would be fine.
With a deep breath, Herrah left her bedchamber.
Herrah’s gaze wandered around the hallway as she made her way towards the where the shrine was. She recalled the “patrols” she used to go on when she was a knight, how much she loved getting to simply walk around for a bit. It had been so easy to let her mind work itself out while she wandered around alone. She didn’t feel so out of place and uncomfortable like she did now. She hadn’t felt anxious or uneasy. Her mind usually began to quiet as she walked, but now with each step she felt her thoughts grow louder.
What was she going to do? There was so much that she had to take care of now that the war was over. They’d lost so many people during that horrid nightmare. She would need to figure out how much she would need to allocate to expanding Deepnest’s medical infrastructure. She would need to greatly reform Deepnest’s childcare system to make sure they would be able to care for all of the children that had been made orphans because of the war. She would need to strengthen Deepnest’s support systems to accommodate all of the people that would be left in dire need of help because of the war. She would need to justify each and every change and expense to a court that already thought her unsuitable to rule because of the circumstances of her birth. She would have to do everything in the shadow of—
Her stomach sank as she stopped in front of the shrine to Cyr, Late King of Deepnest.
Herrah could hear her own heart beating as she stood outside of the old throne room. She’d not been in there since the day the king died by her very own hand. She could still hear the panicked screams as the king started to attack everyone in the room. Her hand came up to her own cheek, brushing over the fresh scar that lay upon it. She could still feel the fear deep in her heart as she’d just barely dodged death itself. She could still see Blackwyrm’s magic burning deep within the eyes of the man that she’d served under. She could feel her heart shatter just as it had when she stood over the corpse of the king, the greatneedle in her hand covered in his blood.
She’d taken an oath to protect King Cyr when she became his knight.
She’d taken an oath…
Herrah turned her gaze away from the shrine as she desperately tried to turn her focus towards anything else. She had a big day ahead of her. She had to sort out the budget and later she had a meeting with—
Herrah felt bile rise in the back of her throat.
The Pale Prick himself had wanted to meet to discuss a possible peace between Deepnest and Hallownest. Her hands clenched into fists at the very thought of it. Now the bastard wanted to discuss peace, after eight-hundred years of pain that he’d inflicted upon Deepnest. Did he think that he could just sweep all of that under the rug and pretend it never happened? All because they’d been pulled into the same war against Blackwyrm?! If there were any justice in this world he would find himself punished to the full extent of Deepnest’s laws a thousand times over. How many people did his sanctions hurt and kill? Where would Deepnest be had they not been trapped in place by the machinations of one self-serving asshole?!
Herrah felt tears well in her eyes as she recalled her dearest stepparent. They’d taken ill when she’d been very small but she still recalled it all too well. The medicine they’d needed to treat the ailment had been extremely hard to successfully cultivate in Deepnest and had therefore been reserved for the upper caste. She could still recall all too well how her poor mother would weep for days at a time, completely unable to cope with the loss of another love. She remembered how her sweet mother spent the rest of her life too grief stricken to even care for herself. She remembered the pain and grief and rage at knowing that it didn’t have to happen as it did.
None of that would have happened without The Pale King and his sanctions.
Herrah let out the shuddering breath she didn’t know she’d been holding as tears began to run down her cheeks. She wanted so desperately to scream in his face upon meeting him. She wanted so desperately to tell him to take his peace offer and shove it. She wanted revenge for herself and everyone like her. She wanted to achieve some sense of justice for all of the hurt that they’ve endured. She wanted to… yet…
Her mind wandered back to the sad, scared child who’d been left caring for her mother while still mourning the loss of yet another parent.
Herrah growled as she clenched her eyes shut. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. Even if she could procure a deal with the bastard god that maximally benefitted Deepnest beyond any shadow of a doubt, any peace she reached with Hallownest would been seen as a mark against her. It would be seen as her bowing to Hallownest and its king—something King Cyr never would have done. Would he face any backlash for asking for peace with Deepnest? Would Hallownest’s very own bastard king face any ramifications for his actions?! Why was it that Herrah had to suffer while he got away scot-free?!
It wasn’t fair… but nothing in Herrah’s life ever was.
Herrah furiously wiped at her tears as she once again faced the shrine to Deepnest’s late king. She swallowed her rage and anguish and buried it as best she could. She could not allow there to be even an inkling of doubt as to her decision. Despite the pain she felt, she had to ensure that she would act with absolute certainty. She was determined to spare those now under her rule the pain she’d been forced to experience. If she had to suffer for it, then so be it. She’d taken an oath to serve Deepnest and she refused to let anything jeopardize that.
Deepnest came first.
She did not.
Swallowing back more tears, Herrah quickly made her way back to her bedroom so she could get ready for the day. There was much to be done and she couldn’t afford herself another second.