Tvirtore Palace, Vysla, Liegalla
Queen Guoda looked from Prince Marcus to Lord Corrado to Wynters. She found herself focusing on the later too. The Predosa patriarch was cocky and confident, which was at once reassuring but infuriating. He asserted he had no right to give orders only to then proceed to direct others. Had she not been truly concerned by Brigita’s sudden returned, she would have rebuked Lord Corrado, but that could wait till things had passed, if any of them remain for such a time.
In Wynters she found some comfort, the boy at least had some confidence in her, and it fed the Queen’s own ego as his echoing of her thoughts and difference to her authority even in the face of the imposing man that was Lord Corrado. Queen Guoda gestured for Wynters to stay, hoping to show that she was not concerned.
Still, there were a few of the more faint of heart courtiers who quietly slipped out of the throne room as Lord Corrado got weapons. Queen Guoda paced the long hall. She had hoped to have Brigita in her grasp so that she may dispose of her, and now, with her literally kneeling before the palace she dared not touch her. It would spark riots in the streets and the fury of the international community. Technically Brigita and certainly her son had done nothing wrong. And their supplication muddied the way the public would see things.
Feeling as if she had been doused with ice cold water, she tried to pick the best course of action. She snapped in frustration, spotting Lord Gauba fanning the fallen royal tutor, “will someone please get her ladyship some water?”
Outside the palace walls the cheers in support of Brigita and her son had become thunderous. Which each minute that passed more called for her return to the palace. And the more Queen Dowager Gintare was determined she must die. But the guards that ringed the kneeling dowager were growing less and less inclined to harm her.
Then the Queen dowager, from her perch high up spotted something that made her go pale. Rolling down the main avenue and up the high deal was a military convoy. A pair of black trucks raced up the the avenue towards the palace, followed by transport trucks and a line of main battle tanks, the flag of the kingdom flying from them. The Queen Dowager cursed. Brigita was going to attack the palace! That was the only thought in her mind as she gathered her skirts and rushed down the stairs. She ran as fast as she could to the front gates of the palace, barking orders to shoot the damnable woman and her son.
The elderly Queen dowager burst through the doors into the already tense scene, more palace guards flanking her as tags pointed a finger at the knelt Brigita.
“Shoot her!” She roared over the down of people the engines of the rapidly approaching trucks.
Yet still, even with the Gintare yelling at them, they hesitated. Seeing their lack of spin,Gintare went the nearest guard and seized his rifle from him, the man too stunned to try and stop the elderly dowager. But the weapon was heavy and Gintare had never been a strong or large woman, less so at seventy five. She fumbled with the gun as the cheers of the crowd suddenly cut out as the leading military trucks parted them like Moses before the Red Sea, threatening to crush anti who didn’t jump out of the way.
For the first time, Queen Dowager Brigita looked up and turned to see the trucks barreling straight towards her, and she let out a gasp. It was this alone that made Gintare hesitate as she realized the military had not come her on Brigita’s black orders. Brigita leapt to her feet, her knees bruised though not bloody as Guoda had suggested, and position herself in front of her son like shield.
At what felt like the last moment the truck swerved out of the way, hooking around her and positioning itself between the guards, Gintare and Brigita and her son. The second truck stopped in front of Brigita as soldiers jumped out.
“Dropped your weapons,” barked Captain Mindaugas Marozas— a grandson of Sir Audrius Marozas the famed favorite of King Vytautas II nicknamed Daugas. But were his grandfather’s good looks had been soft and cushioned in luxury, Captain Marozas’ looks were hard as sharpened steel on his uniform and red beret. The Palace Guards did as they were bed as the last of the soldiers stepped out of the trucks. Amongst them, the surprise and confusion of Gintare was Prince Stanislavas, who looked like a frighten puppy being carried in the jaws of a dragon.
For a dragon had indeed arrived in Vysla.
Stepping out of the later of the two trucks, dressed in the crisp white uniform of a Liegallan General, a white and gold cape slung over his shoulder, tall and cold with his snowy white hair like a glacier and purple eyes as sharp as his mother’s. He looked over the scene is stony silence, his soldiers flanking him as he marched up to the two queen dowagers. King Juozas II had arrived.
“Your Majesty,” said Brigita, suddenly feeling like a child next to her older brother. She fell back to her knees, her words of practiced apologies and calls for mercy as she prostrated before him. The others, guards, common-folk and Gintare followed belated, dropping into bows and curtsies before the King and his army. Months of putting down rebellion it seemed had seen the general turn king forge his men into a brutal and fiercely loyal tool of his will.
“Brother—“ Brigita was cut off as Juozas took her by the chin and lifted her head. He silently looked at her, his eyes as unfeeling as iron. Terror sparked in Brigita’s own pupils. The carefully crafted words she had prepared turned to ash on her lips. She looked at her brother and found no pity or sympathy. She realized she had miscalculated.
Then he was unpinning his cape and draping it over her, pulling her up to her feet. She pulled her son close to her. Queen Dowager Gintare looked aghast at this.
“Go inside,” commanded King Juozas II with a just of his chin towards the palace behind his mother-in-law. “This matter is over.”
Queen Guoda looked to Corrado and Damiano, highly doubting that this was a matter to be seen on any other Tuesday. She put a fist to her hip, turning her attention to Prince Marcus, indeed uneased by the arming of so many men. Before she could say anything however the doors of the throne room burst open.
Soldiers poured in, Captain Marozas leading the way, followed by Queen Dowager Gintare, who looked shell shocked.
“Put your weapons away in the presence of His Majesty the King!” Ordered Captain Marozas as he glared at the armed princelings and lords. The national guard lined the walls of the throne room, cold dispassionate faces looking at the courtiers with the apathy of brick walls. Guoda moved to meet her mother but stopped as she saw her husband.
It had been seven months since Queen Guoda had last seen her husband. She let out a relieved gasp as he marched into the throne room. He moved swiftly, without hesitation, his long legs carrying him to her in what seemed like only a few steps. The King took his wife by the waist and kissed deeply. The queen was caught off guard by the kiss, leaning back and melting against his touch as he took her in like he needed her to breathe. And her concerns were obliterated before this.
When they finally let one another go, King Juozas pressed his forehead to hers. “I have missed you.”
“And I you.”
It was at this moment that Queen Dowager Brigita was escorted into the throne room, her son at her side, her brother’s cloak over her shoulders and Prince Stanislavas at her side. Brigita’s eyes darted to Wynters, then to Prince Marcus and then to the Predosas. Then she met Queen Gouda’s horrified gaze. Guoda looked to her husband, taking a step back.
“What is she—“
“Stanislavas,” King Juozas ordered, as if his wife had said nothing. “You will see to it that our sister is cleaned and dressed properly. When you are done, you will get back here.”
Stanislavas nodded and started to lead his sister through the room. As Brigita walked passed she curtsied before Queen Guoda, a small smirk on her lips where her brother could not see. “I am sorry if I frightened you, Your Majesty,” she said with soft light sweetness. It was spoke softly and yet it seemed to radiate out across the throne room. A dagger wrapped in silk. With this Brigita and her son were escorted out of the throne room.
“Later,” said Juozas in a whisper to his wife when she started to protest. With this he left her side and marched forward, climbing the steps of the dais. For seven months King Juozas had brought about strategic annihilation upon his enemies in his ever constant push south to this very point. He looked coldly at those gathered in the throne room as he sat the Dragonfire Throne.
