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feredarStory: Hamartia
Year: 953 FY
Characters: Lady Rema, Queen Nida
Warnings: References to the events of What I Have to Do and Nida's portion of The Greater Good, discussion of murder, background enslavement/dehumanization of mages.
Notes: The title comes from the Greek literary/philosophical term.
"What went wrong?"
Nida didn't answer right away. She wished, more than anything, that she wasn't having this conversation, that the guards had kept Rema away.
But, of course, there was no reason for them to do so that they knew, and she couldn't share her reasons without implicating herself.
"Nida?"
She looked up and met her sister's eyes. Rema actually looked worried, as if she cared about Nida's illness for reasons beyond the threat to the movement. "I mixed up the glasses," she said, finally.
Rema looked disappointed, but not disbelieving. Nida resisted the urge to breathe a sigh of relief. That would give her game away. "It will be a while before we have another opportunity," she said. "The guards will be more watchful now, but I think--"
"There won't be another opportunity," Nida interrupted, quietly, refusing to release her sister's gaze.
Rema blinked. "What makes you so sure?"
Now or never. "I've...been thinking, over the past few days. About the risk, about my children, about...things."
Rema relaxed visibly and laughed a little. "Oh, is that all?" She took Nida's hand and squeezed it. "Once you're feeling better, you'll see things in the right light again, I'm sure. And there certainly won't be another opportunity before then."
"Rema, you're not listening to me," Nida tried to protest, but her sister ignored her.
"For now, we just need you to do what you have been. This will bind him closer to you than ever, and--"
"Rema."
"What?" She'd finally stopped, thank the gods.
"You're not listening to me," Nida said.
Rema dropped her hand. "You can't back out now."
"And yet I am."
"Why?"
Nida thought carefully before answering. If she was entirely honest with herself, she'd been thinking about it for a long time. Years. Possibly even since Deva's birth. She hadn't wavered from the principles, exactly, but...
But being where she was meant hurting Sorell. And, somehow, that violated some deeper principle buried within her.
"I can't harm the father of my children," she said quietly.
Rema stared at her, that look that Nida knew meant Rema would slap her if only she could get away with it. "One death. We ask of you one death, one which could save thousands of lives--"
"Don't you dare," Nida cut her off. "Don't you dare try to lay any of that on me."
"Oh? You can act and you won't," Rema shot back. "How is it not your responsibility?"
"And murder is the answer?"
"I never said it was ideal."
"So either way you'd make me a murderer."
"You're being overly dramatic."
"I'm stating the facts." Nida gripped the blanket tight, her knuckles going white. "You don't seem to realize that there are limits to what I can do--"
"Because you're a stubborn, selfish, spoiled brat and always have been!"
"Because I have some shred of humanity left in me. Not to mention the practicalities of the situation. Don't interrupt me, Rema, or I swear to Heaven above I'll find a way to expose you without implicating myself." Nida took a deep breath. "If the King is assassinated and the regent for his minor heir suddenly starts a major policy shift, you don't think that won't be at all suspicious? I am not exposing myself to that kind of violence, or the movement to the backlash it would impose, or my son to the inevitable horror of being traded from hand to hand by a series of ambitious, violent regents after I am killed. I am not abandoning my daughters as hostages to one faction or another as my people dissolve into chaos because you think calling me selfish will make me commit murder. I said do not interrupt me." She glared at her sister, who, at the very least, remained blessedly silent. "Get out," she spat, after a minute.
"Nida--"
"I said get out."
Rema stared at her for another long moment, then curtseyed--deep but sarcastic--and swept out of the room.
"Captain," Nida called to the guard stationed outside.
"Majesty?"
She met his eyes. "My sister is not to be allowed into my rooms anymore."
He nodded, clearly unsurprised--even though the words likely didn't carry, the fact that they were shouting almost certainly did--bowed briefly, and stepped back out.
Nida sank back and stared up at the ceiling, feeling a sick not at the bottom of her stomach. Everything she'd said was true--the risk to her children was too great, and killing her husband the way Rema planned would cause more problems than it solved, but...
But what Rema said had truth to it, too.
I can't do it. No matter what the cost.
She buried the guilt as deep as she could, closing her eyes, conjuring up every facet, every expression she'd ever seen him wear.
Nothing had changed.
He wasn't the monster he should have been, he was a thoughtful man who genuinely wanted what was best. And he loved her. Simply, completely, as much as she loved him.
She opened her eyes again. There was no power in the universe that could make her hurt him, least of all Rema's too-compelling arguments. So she would find another way.
For love of him.
Year: 953 FY
Characters: Lady Rema, Queen Nida
Warnings: References to the events of What I Have to Do and Nida's portion of The Greater Good, discussion of murder, background enslavement/dehumanization of mages.
Notes: The title comes from the Greek literary/philosophical term.
"What went wrong?"
Nida didn't answer right away. She wished, more than anything, that she wasn't having this conversation, that the guards had kept Rema away.
But, of course, there was no reason for them to do so that they knew, and she couldn't share her reasons without implicating herself.
"Nida?"
She looked up and met her sister's eyes. Rema actually looked worried, as if she cared about Nida's illness for reasons beyond the threat to the movement. "I mixed up the glasses," she said, finally.
Rema looked disappointed, but not disbelieving. Nida resisted the urge to breathe a sigh of relief. That would give her game away. "It will be a while before we have another opportunity," she said. "The guards will be more watchful now, but I think--"
"There won't be another opportunity," Nida interrupted, quietly, refusing to release her sister's gaze.
Rema blinked. "What makes you so sure?"
Now or never. "I've...been thinking, over the past few days. About the risk, about my children, about...things."
Rema relaxed visibly and laughed a little. "Oh, is that all?" She took Nida's hand and squeezed it. "Once you're feeling better, you'll see things in the right light again, I'm sure. And there certainly won't be another opportunity before then."
"Rema, you're not listening to me," Nida tried to protest, but her sister ignored her.
"For now, we just need you to do what you have been. This will bind him closer to you than ever, and--"
"Rema."
"What?" She'd finally stopped, thank the gods.
"You're not listening to me," Nida said.
Rema dropped her hand. "You can't back out now."
"And yet I am."
"Why?"
Nida thought carefully before answering. If she was entirely honest with herself, she'd been thinking about it for a long time. Years. Possibly even since Deva's birth. She hadn't wavered from the principles, exactly, but...
But being where she was meant hurting Sorell. And, somehow, that violated some deeper principle buried within her.
"I can't harm the father of my children," she said quietly.
Rema stared at her, that look that Nida knew meant Rema would slap her if only she could get away with it. "One death. We ask of you one death, one which could save thousands of lives--"
"Don't you dare," Nida cut her off. "Don't you dare try to lay any of that on me."
"Oh? You can act and you won't," Rema shot back. "How is it not your responsibility?"
"And murder is the answer?"
"I never said it was ideal."
"So either way you'd make me a murderer."
"You're being overly dramatic."
"I'm stating the facts." Nida gripped the blanket tight, her knuckles going white. "You don't seem to realize that there are limits to what I can do--"
"Because you're a stubborn, selfish, spoiled brat and always have been!"
"Because I have some shred of humanity left in me. Not to mention the practicalities of the situation. Don't interrupt me, Rema, or I swear to Heaven above I'll find a way to expose you without implicating myself." Nida took a deep breath. "If the King is assassinated and the regent for his minor heir suddenly starts a major policy shift, you don't think that won't be at all suspicious? I am not exposing myself to that kind of violence, or the movement to the backlash it would impose, or my son to the inevitable horror of being traded from hand to hand by a series of ambitious, violent regents after I am killed. I am not abandoning my daughters as hostages to one faction or another as my people dissolve into chaos because you think calling me selfish will make me commit murder. I said do not interrupt me." She glared at her sister, who, at the very least, remained blessedly silent. "Get out," she spat, after a minute.
"Nida--"
"I said get out."
Rema stared at her for another long moment, then curtseyed--deep but sarcastic--and swept out of the room.
"Captain," Nida called to the guard stationed outside.
"Majesty?"
She met his eyes. "My sister is not to be allowed into my rooms anymore."
He nodded, clearly unsurprised--even though the words likely didn't carry, the fact that they were shouting almost certainly did--bowed briefly, and stepped back out.
Nida sank back and stared up at the ceiling, feeling a sick not at the bottom of her stomach. Everything she'd said was true--the risk to her children was too great, and killing her husband the way Rema planned would cause more problems than it solved, but...
But what Rema said had truth to it, too.
I can't do it. No matter what the cost.
She buried the guilt as deep as she could, closing her eyes, conjuring up every facet, every expression she'd ever seen him wear.
Nothing had changed.
He wasn't the monster he should have been, he was a thoughtful man who genuinely wanted what was best. And he loved her. Simply, completely, as much as she loved him.
She opened her eyes again. There was no power in the universe that could make her hurt him, least of all Rema's too-compelling arguments. So she would find another way.
For love of him.