"I found a rock shaped like a bird's skull, and then I jumped from the cliff, the high one, all the way into the lake. I swam across it, Mama. All the way. Didn't I say that I would be able to do it? Papa was skeptical, but you knew I would do it, didn't you?"
Her mother's laugh was warm, rich with pride, as fingers combed through her long, tangled hair. "Yes, indeed. I told him not to doubt you so. Bravery runs through your blood, little one. You would have been the envy of our Firrerreo kin."
Merisya grinned up at her, satisfied with the dose of approval, because her mother was her role model. Formidable, ruthless and always had a good word for her daughter. But her mother's touch lingered only a moment before she said. "And you will need that same spirit for your first embroidery lesson this afternoon."
The grin dropped. "Embroidery?"
"It will be fun. You will see."
"It is boring." Merisya said, letting her arms fall away, taking a step back from the Queen. "I was going to ride today. The black stallion-"
"No." Her mother cut in. Her tone was still gentle and yet it was the inflection she used to tell Merisya she might think this was a discussion, but it was really not. "Your duties must come first. You are young and already braver than most grown men, but you must learn that there are different shapes of strength. It is not only jumping over canyon cliffs and tapping a Nexu on the nose. You are a Princess of Tion and your strength will not always be in the saddle or the sword-arm. One day your sharp mind will have to turn men to your will. They are weak here and you will be required to rule through them."
"I do not want a husband." Merisya's voice rose, fierce, already aggressive in the way she tried to defend and assert herself. "I will rule myself. I am a Princess of Tion. The Princess of Tion. Why can I not be a Warrior Queen, like the stories?"
"That is not how it is done here, you have already met your betrothed, the same way I met your father." Her mother said calmly. She knew her daughter and had come to expect this. "I accepted it. So will you."
"That boy is lesser than me!" Merisya blurted out. "A duke's son. I am the heir with no brothers. It is not fair."
"And yet..." her mother said, smoothing her daughter's damp hair back into place, "He will be the King and you will be his Queen."
The solar had been warm, heavy with jasmine from the garden outside. No matter how much time passed that smell clung in her memory, stubborn as the sting in her chest. She had hated the lesson, hated the way her mother's voice could sound both proud and certain while laying out her cage. Years later, she understood what that certainty was: surrender disguised as wisdom.
The jasmine faded from memory again.
The air turned cold instead, sharp with smoke and blood.
The light was thinner here, fractured by the broken windows of the captured hall. Stone walls rose high above her, blackened by fire in some places, slick with rain in others. The throne beneath her was no polished seat of state but bent metal and splintered wood, scavenged from the ruin.
They knelt before her. The Lord. The Lady. Their daughter. Torn finery and dirty faces. The girl was pressed between her parents, head bowed but eyes flicking upward now and then, restless and mostly curious. She was watching her as if she was a mystery rather than their conqueror. It was sweet in a way, it made her think of herself in those years. She had been curious, restless, constantly trying to see more.
They had punished her for it.
Mercy leaned forward, chin resting lightly on her knuckles. She studied them in silence, letting the quiet stretch until the hearth's crackle felt too loud. At heart Mercy was a talker, because she loved the sound of her voice. But she learned a long time ago that silence could be a more effective knife.
The Lord's shoulders trembled but it wasn't from the cold. His wife's hand tightened on the girl's arm, trying to anchor her in place.
Mercy's mind already saw the scene in front of her. How it could be, how it should be. The Lady could rise up and kill her Lord. She would save her daughter. The daughter would then be able to take the crown for herself. It would be reality reasserting itself into how it should have been from the start.
"The Lord loses his head." Mercy said, casual, as if she was already bored, but the way her eyes were gleaming. Almost with fever for the situation she was sketching with just a few words and a healthy application of strength. "The Lady will cut it off herself if she wants her daughter to live." Her gaze shifted to the girl, lingering there. "And the daughter will be strong. Fierce. She will end her mother's life to keep her own."
The Lady's breath caught in horror. The girl's eyes widened as she stared at Mercy, but then her jaw set in stubbornness that amused Mercy so. The Lord looked to the floor, as if not seeing the nightmare in front of him could change the ending.
Tion was long gone, burned to ash by Carnifex. Her family was gone with it.
But Mercy could still make the story end the way it should have.
