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Maya Elbrendi is seven years old the first time the future heir of her liege House is placed into her arms.
She has held babies before, of course, but never one quite so important as Aranessa Royce. Even as an infant, the strength of her inherited magic is powerful enough to send static running up and down Maya's arms, leaving a tingling sensation in her fingers and a faint taste of sweetness on her tongue. It feels like she's holding the very center of the world in her grasp.
Maya looks into Aranessa's little round face, runs a gentle finger along her cheek, and swears to herself that, no matter what, she will always stand at her Lady's side.
"Maya, look!"
Maya has been looking at entirely too many things lately, in her personal opinion, but she was tasked with watching over the young Lady Royce while the adults finish taking their tea at the edge of the gardens, and so she will admire every single flower brandished under her nose if that means she is doing her job correctly. "It's lovely, Aranessa."
"I made it!"
"I see that." Maya offers her hand, palm up, for Aranessa to gently lay the new bloom onto her outstretched fingers. It's a delicate thing, pale pink center fading gently into a brilliant white at the petals' edges. It's also perfect—almost unnaturally so, with crisp, healthy edges, bright green leaves wrapping around the bottom, and flawless symmetry, the likes of which even adult druids often struggle to master. She feels her eyes widen. "It's very lovely."
Lord and Lady Royce will be pleased by this, she thinks. For their heir to be manifesting her magic so early, and especially with such precise control, is certainly a sign of good fortune to come. She passes the flower back. "When your parents are free this evening, you ought to show it to them."
Aranessa shakes her head, refusing to take it. "I can make another one," she says, smiling with all that sweet innocence she seems to limitlessly possess. "That one's just for you."
"Oh," says Maya, and realizes that she probably should not have been surprised at all. She hardly needs this gift, but it would be futile to argue. "Thank you, my Lady. That is very kind."
Aranessa skips back over to where she'd been playing, exchange already forgotten. Maya looks at the flower for a little while longer, then slowly reaches up to tuck the stem into her hair.
In the evenings, Maya often helps her mother weave.
Generally, "helping" just means keeping her company, though it does sometimes also mean offering an opinion on choices of colors. There's no real need for either of them to be doing this, of course—they have all the fabric they could possibly need, and should that ever change there are more than enough servants to delegate to the task—but the ritual of it comforts them both, and it is nice to create something beautiful in a world that seems to brew endless war. Maya loves the way her mother deftly weaves reds into greens into blues into golds, blending all of the House colors together into one harmonious piece that is, by all rights, a work of art.
She does, admittedly, also love the gossip.
"Had you heard," Mother begins, then pauses so that the clunk of the loom battening the latest thread does not drown out her words, "that Otto Einfasen is engaged to be married?"
This might have been of more interest to Maya had Otto Einfasen been someone she regularly spent her time thinking about, but talk of shifting alliances has been growing increasingly frequent at the family dinner table, and it's certainly not every day that another Sundered House's eldest scion is wed. "Oh? To whom?"
"A daughter of a lesser noble house, though I am remiss to recall exactly which one," Mother says. "Not much older than yourself. Cordelia, I believe her name is?"
Maya has heard the name before, though not in any particularly memorable contexts. "Trimus Tachonis may have mentioned her once or twice," she says, shrugging in the gentle, delicate way her mother has taught her to. "I cannot say I have any particular impression of her."
"In less than a year's time you will, I suppose. We have been invited to the wedding."
This, Maya takes interest in. There has not been a Sundered House wedding since she was too young to properly remember any details. She wonders whether she has yet reached the age where she will be encouraged to mingle among her elders, or if she will be spending the majority of the time with the other children.
"Lady Davinos' eldest son Raimond will be there," Mother continues. "I think it would benefit you greatly to get to know him during the reception."
Maya swallows. An anxious flutter briefly passes through her heart before settling itself into something that might be excitement. She cannot quite keep the feeling out of her expression. "Yes, Mother."
Mother smiles. "So quick on the uptake. You have always made me proud."
Raimond Davinos carries himself as though he expects the whole world to be watching.
If the entire world was watching, Maya couldn't blame it. She does not think she has ever seen such a perfectly-structured face in her life, framed so neatly by silken brown hair, with a smooth scar just barely visible on his left cheek. He is practically resplendant in his ceremonial armor, golden breastplate gleaming so brightly in the candlelight that she almost has to look away. Almost.
Maya observes him for an amount of time that is perfectly logical, reasonable, and appropriate, which is to say one of her cousins jabs a sharp elbow into her side and whispers "Just go talk to him already," Maya elbows her back far harder than strictly necessary, and Aranessa is loudly affronted that people are hitting each other at a wedding and has to be reassured that there are no hard feelings among them before Maya can even begin to start thinking about working up the courage to do so. She spends a few careful minutes smoothing her dress and checking her reflection in the back of a soup spoon as subtly as she can manage, though the longer she stalls, the tighter her nerves wrap around her throat.
Maybe she ought to wait a little longer. The final course is still being distributed, and she would not want to be a disturbance just yet. She'll just bring Aranessa back to her grandfather—where did Aranessa go? No matter; it is perfectly safe here, and Maya was not asked to watch over her tonight—she'll just… wait until the dancing begins. Yes, that seems like a viable plan. She will ask Sir Raimond to dance, and see where the evening takes them from there—
"Maya!"
Ah, there's Aranessa. She is deftly weaving her way between tables, skirts bunched up in one hand, the other clasped around the palm of someone who has to stoop slightly to match for her height—
Oh, dear dead gods, she's going to die. She's going to die, and they will all be laughing at her from their graves. "Sir Davinos. It's an honor to officially meet you."
He isn't quite looking at her. There's a tiny, mostly-suppressed smile on his lips. A slight hint of redness is creeping up his neck towards his ears. All of which could, of course, mean nothing.
Is it hot in here? It's actually quite cold in Klippenblicke, usually. Maybe someone's lit a fireplace in the next room.
"And to you as well," Sir Raimond says, extending his free hand to grasp hers and raise her knuckles to his lips. "Lady Elbrendi, I presume?"
"Yes," says Maya, offering a well-practiced curtsey, and whoever is stacking that fireplace, wherever it must be, really needs to stop doing that. "I am sorry if you were interrupted. I had been meaning to introduce myself at a more opportune time."
"Well, it would not do to ignore such a polite request from our young liege Lady," Sir Raimond says, and Aranessa giggles like the little traitor that she is. "It's really no bother. The conversation was growing rather stale anyways."
Maya's cousin is making faces at her from the other side of the table where she is now standing. There are probably several ways she will be able to take her revenge for that in the coming days, but right now that is not an immediate concern. "Well, if you'd like, I can attempt to provide far more interesting company."
Sir Raimond smiles, and for a while everything else fades away, leaving them alone in one another's company surrounded by flickering light and the swell of music. She spends the remainder of her evening at his side, whisperimg jokes and stealing as many dances as they can, and a small part of her wonders whether this all might still have happened regardless of her mother's request. Perhaps this game they all play has some joy to it, too.
When her parents receive a missive from the elder Lord Davinos inquiring as to whether they might be willing to meet with him barely a year later, Maya does not even bother to feign surprise.
After everyone clears out—the midwives, Maya's mother, Raimond, the servants taking away the last of the bloodied linens—Aranessa cautiously steps into the threshold to the bedroom, silhouette almost burning in the fading light. "May I see him?"
In all honesty, Maya would much rather lay her infant son in his new bassinet, pull the fresh blankets over her head, and sleep for the next two years. But she is not in the habit of denying her Lady anything, and she is hardly about to start now. "Of course. Come in."
Aranessa crosses the room quietly, daintily settling herself on the edge of the mattress like a fairy might sit on the thinnest of branches. She leans ever so slightly into Maya's side, as though she craves the contact but is afraid of doing anything that might harm her. The concern seems reasonable, if unwarranted. It was a worryingly long labor, and Maya suspects her throat will remain sore from all the screaming for days. There is no point in pretending to herself that she wasn't overheard by everyone in the household.
But Julien was born big, strong, and healthy, and that's all any of them could have asked for. The pride in Raimond's expression had been unmistakable as he gazed upon their son, gently stroking Maya's sweat-soaked hair. Tomorrow, he will return to the front, but he had come home just for this. She should probably feel more honored than she does.
Aranessa looks uncharacteristically nervous, but she gamely lays a hand on Maya's forearm just close enough to barely brush against the blanket swaddling the heir of her vassal House. "Hello," she whispers.
Julien lets out a spectacular yawn, which is frankly impressive for a child barely three hours old. Maya cannot quite suppress her exhausted laugh. "That is hardly an appropriate way to greet a Lady of House Royce, Sir Julien."
Aranessa smiles, softly. "That's a lovely name," she says.
Maya glances sidelong at her. It's a little hard to see through half-lidded eyes, gaze still blurred with pain and bone-deep tiredness. Newly fifteen, she is properly on her way to growing into the woman she will one day become. She will be the Lady of her House one day, and have her own heirs, and Julien will grow up loving and mentoring those children, just as his mother did before him. The cycle will continue. Her son will be safe. "Would you like to hold him?"
"Um. I don't—I haven't washed my hands."
Whatever Aranessa's sudden fear, if that's even what this is, has come from, Maya is far too tired to think about it too hard. "As you will. Could you pull that a bit closer? I'd like to get Julien properly settled before I start sleeping like the dead."
Aranessa is up in a flash, pulling the bassinet in question over to line up neatly with the edge of the mattress so that Maya does not have to move herself too far to lay Julien into it. He miraculously does not wake. She supposes she will see how long that luck lasts.
"Do you need anything?" Aranessa whispers. "I could fetch someone for you, if you'd like."
"Not just yet," Maya says, suppressing a yawn. "Thank you. But now, I am going to sleep. Perhaps after a few hours I will look a little less horrendous."
"Nonsense," Aranessa says, the ghost of a smile creeping onto her face. "You look fantastic. Very powerful."
Maya laughs, laying her head back on the pillow. The soft sounds of the Golden Orchard at night are as comforting as always, long on their way to lulling her to sleep. "You do not have to lie to me."
When Aranessa introduces her to Thjazi Fang, Maya thinks it's some kind of a joke.
Not the part about the man being a war hero, of course. Maya would have readily believed that about him even if Raimond hadn't sung his praises in a letter home two years before. But—
She says nothing to Fang's face, of course, besides the polite pleasantries that would be expected. When she and her Lady are alone, that changes.
"What do you mean, you're marrying him?"
Aranessa doesn't even have the decency to look affronted. "It's a rather simple concept, Maya. We are in love. We're forging a bond. People do that sometimes."
People with the freedom not to worry about their bloodlines, perhaps, Maya nearly says, but doesn't, because to voice that thought out loud is to open the door to an argument she is not sure either of them is ready to have. Aranessa is young still, yes, but not so much so that she should still believe in such fantasies. "And so you choose to marry a commoner?"
"A war hero." The pointless reminder comes so quickly it's almost as though Aranessa has practiced rebuttals against every argument she could think of. If only she were willing to put that amount of consideration into House politics.
"And you are in love. With a soldier." Who has no noble ties to speak of, not that Maya thinks this will be a suitable deterrant. Even as a child, Aranessa had long lamented the supposed injustices that come with rank and title. It seems she still has yet to understand exactly how important their names are to their survival.
"Yes. Like you and Raimond," Aranessa says. "That's what I want, not something purely for politics."
It takes considerable effort not to roll her eyes. "You think our marriage was not political?"
Aranessa huffs. "Well—it did turn out conveniently, yes. But that wasn't how it started! I set you up, didn't I?"
For as stunningly intelligent as Aranessa often is, she can be so clueless. Not for the first time, Maya worries for the security of their Houses' future. "You almost humiliated me in public, as I recall. Though I cannot deny your approach was… lucrative."
How did it come to this? How had no one seen the early signs, since surely they must have existed, and stopped her? Maya should have noticed. She was supposed to act as a mentor for the future head of her sworn House, and she has failed in this in a way that will grow increasingly dangerous the longer Aranessa's unruly nature is left unchecked.
Admittedly, they have not seen much of each other over recent years. Maya has been busy with her duties, and with raising her children, and Aranessa has seemingly been uninterested in either of those things. Perhaps Maya should have been there. Perhaps if she'd been keeping a closer eye out, things could have been different.
But it is too late. They will not be. Aranessa has always held more power than Maya could ever dream of, both magical and otherwise, and there is nothing to be done about it.
"See, I was right all along. And besides, the decision's already been made. He proposed, and I said yes, and I am not willing to negociate on the topic."
Aranessa is a very sensitive child, Maya's mother told her in the sitting room one night, just as they were about to retire to their respective bedchambers. You would do well to provide her with guidance when you can. Some of her fantasies must not be encouraged too far.
Maya does not think that even her mother could ever have predicted this.
"Hm. Yes, well." Maya shifts in her seat, adjusting the fall of her skirts across her knees. "If he breaks your heart, I'll kill him."
"I am going to kill him."
Anger is not a foreign expression on Julien's face, but Maya is still taken aback by the unprecedented scale of it. Her son is barely old enough to even begin training under his father's watch, and yet he looks as though he is intimately familiar with the blade already.
"Not if I kill him first."
They should probably not be having this conversation, she is aware, or they should at least not be having it in a place where they might be overheard. Thjazi still has plenty of supporters within the Orchard, including the elder Lord Royce himself and Maya's own husband, despite everything that Thjazi Fang has just done to them all. Maya kneels before her son, taking his hand in hers, keeping her voice low. "Julien, listen to me."
Julien's eyes meet hers. They are narrowed in anger, reddened from what she knows to be tears. She has already had to pull him away from Aranessa's door once. "We will not speak of this further. We do not forgive him, but we do not abandon our duties to Lady Royce. Hold onto your anger, let it fester, and one day, if and when the time comes, an opportunity will present itself to you. Should that occur, I trust you to do what must be done."
Julien nods. It does not feel like enough.
"Do you understand?"
He nods again, more firmly this time. "Yes, Mother."
"Good," she says, with some finality, and stands. "Do not let me keep you from your training. Tell your father I wish to speak to him this evening, will you?"
Julien nods again, saluting to her, as though he is a soldier bidding farewell to his superior and not a little boy whose mother could not provide the kind of comfort he probably needed most. She watches him go, hands clenching into fists, and turns her back to him before the lump in the base of her throat can grow any further.
When did her son become a man?
Thjazi Fang betrays them all a second time. Within a month, the doors to Faerie are closed, and in rapid succession the elder Lord Royce peacefully passes in his sleep, hands gently held by his grandchildren as the entire household stands vigil.
Afterwards, Aranessa does not emerge from her rooms for three days.
It's not the worst way she could have reacted. Aranessa is extremely defensive of her husband, though he does not deserve it, and even if Maya did believe he had somehow orchestrated the closing of the gates she knows there would be no way of proving it. Beyond that, she had been closer to her grandfather than anyone else alive. His death would have destroyed her no matter when it occurred, regardless of if the severed connection to Faerie did or did not have anything to do with it. As far as anyone's concerned, each of these terrible events are not related to one another by anything but terrible timing. The triple tragedy of the past week would be enough to lay anyone low for a while.
It's just as well. When Aranessa finally shows her face in the dining room on the morning of the fourth day, well past the point where breakfast is still available but too early to encounter anyone preparing lunch, Maya has had three days to prepare her arguments. She has been ready for this moment for weeks.
"You have to remarry."
Aranessa glares at her with the force of a thousand natural disasters. She has not looked this exhausted or unkempt since the days following the declaration of the Falconer's Rebellion, eyes sunken and hair horrifically tangled in a way that betrays several sleepless nights. "Good morning to you, too. I will be doing no such thing."
At least she has the energy to be obstinate again. That's good. Maya would have been far more concerned if she'd agreed.
"You've had your fun," she says. "Not only that, but Thjazi was given a second chance to make you happy. I'm sorry, but he made his choice. Even if the gates to Faerie hadn't closed, he has made a mockery of you to our allies. We are weakened."
"The gates won't stay closed for long," Aranessa says, crossing her arms. Her dressing gown is terribly rumpled, and she shivers in the cool morning air. "Thjazi won't allow it. I imagine he is looking into solutions as we speak."
Years later, Maya will think back on this moment and wonder whether Aranessa had actually had reason to believe as much. In the moment, however, she chalks it up to stubborn, lingering affection. If Aranessa needs someone to spell out the reality of her situation to her, Maya will happily oblige. "Thjazi Fang abandoned you," she says. "And the whole world knows it. You are a grown adult, the scion of your House, and you have no heirs. This childhood romance must be put to rest. You cannot place your faith in a man who has betrayed and left us behind twice."
"Lady Maya," Aranessa says sharply, and there is not the slightest hint of uncertainty or desire for guidance in her tone. "You are entirely out of line."
Maya refuses to back down. "You will have your time to grieve," she says, though she has very little space left for patience. "But you know this must be done. You cannot permit our Houses to be brought any lower. The only safety you can hope to bring us lies in—"
"Our Houses?" Aranessa interrupts with a derisive laugh. "It seems to me that you have always believed they are yours."
"Nothing belongs to either of us!" Maya snaps. "Not entirely. Not our Houses, not our names, and certainly not our lives. At least I am capable of acknowledging that."
An indescribable hurt crosses Aranessa's face, as though Maya may as well have physically stabbed her directly in the heart. As though she has never directly acknowledged such an obvious truth to herself. "You are dismissed."
Maya scoffs. "If you will not listen to reason—"
"You are dismissed, Lady Davinos. I am returning to my chambers. I fear I've lost my appetite."
Hot anger burns in the pit of Maya's stomach. Her Lady is going to ruin them, and she will probably be surprised at their downfall. "This conversation is not over," she calls after Aranessa's retreating form, as loudly as she dares to without risking a shake in her voice. "You will come to me, when you see nowhere else to turn, and you will know I was right. And get someone to fix your hair; you look an absolute mess."
There is a quickening of footsteps and the echoing slam of a door, and their paths do not cross again for a very long time.
The Golden Orchard falls.
There's no delicate way to put it. Their home is destroyed, Callowyn Royce is dead, and Maya's only daughter will follow him within the year. There is a brief comfort that comes in the form of a letter sent by Julien from Castle Klippenblicke, even despite his unsubtle attempts to avoid mentioning his father's fate in any real capacity, but whatever hope she might have managed to find is shattered the instant Lady Aranessa arrives with three soldiers from Castle Torch. It is getting to be late evening, and there are fires being lit to keep those who must sleep outside warm, and it's easy enough to pull her Lady aside to sit near one of them in semi-privacy where she can politely demand answers.
She gets them, unfortunately. She accepts the news of Raimond's death with a well-practiced mask of stoicism. She grimly listens to the tale of dangerous adventure that followed, which her son is still away on. She winces, despite herself, when Aranessa hesitantly asks where her brother is.
She holds the Lady of the Broken Sundered House of Royce as she cries, and almost does not resent her for it.
Almost.
"I made a terrible mistake," Aranessa whispers, as though either of them are ever supposed to believe there had only been one terrible mistake. "I had thought myself able to offer the young Lord Tachonis my protection. I never anticipated…."
Well. There isn't much point in finishing that particular sentence. Maya knows. She knows far more than she would ever have wished to.
Aranessa draws in a deep, shuddering breath. "I am so sorry for your husband."
Maya swallows. She can't quite meet her Lady's eyes. "…And I am sorry for yours."
There's a laugh, almost, the sound half-aborted and certainly wet enough to qualify as a sob. "You do not have to lie to me."
There is nothing more to say. They both know where they stand, even now, at the end of everything they'd once known.
Aranessa sighs, wistful. "I should have gone with him, after the Rebellion," she says, and Maya's heart shudders in her chest. "He asked. I said no. It is my greatest regret." She looks up to the sky, the last of her tears shimmering in the firelight. "Perhaps we all could have made a greater difference as commoners."
There is a rage burning beneath Maya's skin, circulating through her veins like a rare poison. She suspects it has been there for far longer than she truly realized. She does not raise her voice. "And if you did choose to become a commoner, would that have made you any less of a coward?"
There are countless cruel ways Aranessa might have responded to that, and she probably would have been well within her rights to choose any of them. She doesn't.
"Is that what I am?"
Maya looks at her.
No, she thinks. Far from it. They may have their differences, but one of them has faced down Primus Tachonis and survived, and it is not the one who has gone her entire life without ever once questioning the nature of this game they all supposedly play.
"If you are," Maya whispers, softly enough that if she tries hard enough, she could pretend to herself that Aranessa does not hear it, "then what am I?"
Raimond is dead. Julien is gone. Alba is fading away. Maya no longer knows where she stands on the board, but she suspects she is about to lose her spot on it entirely.