It had been 46 years since Duchess Ortrun Karesti, formerly Major Ortrun Norup, took her first breath. That put her well into the threshold to be counted as a senior Titanian. For those who lived to that age, natural death came in one of two ways. One form came suddenly and instantly. The deceased could be laughing, talking or eating one moment, and the next moment their heart would simply cease beating. They would not have known of their own deaths. The second came slowly, painfully, and miserably. The body would weaken gradually. The skin would change color and crack, and hair would age rapidly and become thin—the only way a Titanian could appear even remotely ‘elderly’ like a Terran. Mobility, appetite and overall bodily function would decrease over the course of around a year, ultimately leading to their death. Not a single form of Titanian science had ever found a way to combat this process, other than making it as painless as possible.
Whatever they could not confront, they ignored. Therefore senior Titanians facing this kind of death would isolate themselves, and only the members of their own household would be aware of it. An Angel with aged features was defective, and defectives could not show their face to the world.
It was this second kind of death that Ortrun was facing, and she only had around 10 more months to live. Although she utilised the state-of-the-art technology that only nobles like her could afford, she could still feel some physical pain. But what brought her solace was that she knew just when she would pass on and finally be back in her husband’s arms again.
“She may be right,” Ortrun spoke softly. “The only one with the gall to attempt reconciliation with them was your father. It may be that only he has that power, so perhaps it is the only way… unless Gareth Koppel finds his way into this mess.”
“Isn’t that…”
“He is your uncle. You remember, don’t you?”
“It must’ve been a long time ago when I was told that, but I do remember. That man shares the same father with my father and Aunt Rhona.”
“Your father struggled to maintain the image of a Karestian Emperor that ruled with an iron fist, but the public is unaware of why he went to such great lengths to try to make peace. One reason, I’m sure of, is that he simply loved his brother so much that continuing to fight his people would be like fighting with him.”
“Aunt Rhona fought Gareth, though.” Ninon refuted.
“That, she did. You must know by now that…”
Ortrun’s empty hand tightened into a fist unconsciously as bitter memories raced through her head.
“…she isn’t that kind. If anyone is your grandfather Henrik’s true successor, it is her. In terms of persistence, ambition, and brutality. It is true that the Karesti’s have had to fight viciously throughout the centuries to maintain their periods of rule, but Emperor Henrik and his father Emperor Haldor were especially of cruel. Your father witnessed his father’s antics firsthand, but he chose to rehabilitate his family’s image instead of deepening it.”
“If Aunt Rhona is how you say she is… why is she trying to stop this war at all? Would it not make more sense for her to just... wipe out every Terran?”
“It is because she is Halsten’s sister. Perhaps her one redeeming quality is that she is deeply attached to him and wants him to be with her and wants to carry what she believes to be his will in her own way. And if it means changing the destiny of her other relatives, then so be it.”
“Great-aunt Ortrun, that… that can’t be right,” Ninon’s pupils shrunk in astonishment. “You’re saying she wants to change my destiny? My only destiny, the one that I’ve always known is that I would take up the throne one day. Do you really think she will alter it?”
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“I know because I’ve witnessed her do it once before, sweet girl,” Ortrun pulled Ninon gently towards her, prompting her to sit at her bedside. “Silvan’s father was once co-regent along with Rhona, and now it is only her taking up that helm. That is no coincidence, I am so sure of it.”
Great-uncle Gunnar’s death wasn’t an accident? Were the words in the history textbooks Alda made me study made up? Has the truth been hidden the whole time?
“I sensed coldness from her, a kind of condition I feel that I have no choice but to agree to. When she kissed me on the forehead earlier today, I could feel it. I understand now that… there is an explanation behind it.”
“Are you scared?” Ortrun asked.
“I… a little bit,” she said despite the fact that she was shivering from anxiety. “Why?”
“There’s no reason to be. No matter what she does, Rhona will always have to hide behind curtains of lies and threats. She is not Halsten. And you are not her, either.”
That reassurance provided some relief to Ninon’s anxious mind, but she still wanted more answers.
“So what must I do, then? I don’t want to have to face her. As much as I don’t want her to hurt me or anyone else, I don’t want to see her be sad either. She just wants her brother back, doesn’t she? But if that comes at the cost of me living the way I do, I…”
“In all my years of living, I have found that the most painful animosity doesn’t come from well-established enemies, but from those you thought you could love and trust,” Ortrun spoke, the wisdom she harbored having not faltered as her body had. “Use that line of thinking in your every action and word. Alda?”
“Y-Yes, Your Grace?” Alda asked, trying to remain professional even though she was processing the words that had entered her ears as well as Ninon’s.
“Help her do what she must. It doesn’t matter how many rules she must break, but she will need a guiding hand to go with her on her path. Emperor Halsten and Empress Consort Ilmatar bestowed a duty upon you that transcends all other duties, the law included. But do not break the vow that we all had to make.”
“I understand, Your Grace.”
I am prepared to do the unthinkable to keep her safe, Alda resolved in her head. I am prepared to become the enemy of every being so that she becomes the Empress she is meant to be.
“What else must I do, Great-aunt Ortrun? There must be another way I can prepare for this. H-How will I try to connect with my father? I mean, it’s surely a hard thing to try and form a relationship with a man who’s essentially been dead for 11 years. Like suddenly having a stranger living in your home, if I had to guess what it would be like.”
“That is for you to figure out, my love,” Ortrun beamed. “But I know something that may help. Go to the Great Temple of Pizna and have the priests do a reading for you. The priests bathe daily in a mixture of liquid methane and minced Utrium which has allowed them to have a limited form of prescience. The readings they perform—
Another intense fit of coughs emerged from the woman’s chest, interrupting her speech. Ninon could barely stifle back a cringe of sympathy.
“…the readings they perform, and the knowledge derived from them are kept confidential due to their direct oath to Pizna. They can tell you what you may need to know so that you can prepare.”
“Is that all I can do?” Ninon frowned.
“Your father made the entire royal family, all his employees, and his allies swear an oath to him regarding your mother and her heritage. If I break it, I will suffer a violent death at a time which I cannot predict. Learning about your mother is vital to knowing about who your father was, and why he’s done the things he’s done. The priests can at least infer a little bit about her by reading your future. So make haste. If Rhona realizes you’re not back at the Palace by daytime…”
She omitted finishing her sentence, as she didn’t want to imagine the extent Rhona’s anger reached.
“I- I understand, great-aunt Ortrun. I’m very grateful for being able to hear your wisdom.”
Ortrun flashed a full smile, despite the enormous amount of energy it took.
“Let me tell you one more thing before I send you on your way. No matter what you learn, keep that benevolent heart of yours. You are the rightful heir to the throne, but I know that power can corrupt people. Keep fighting that struggle. I know Alda will keep you on your path, and Silvan will be by your side no matter what.”
She pulled the girl’s hand to her lips and gave it a gentle kiss on the knuckles. It was not only a sign of familial love, but of affirming who had the right to power and who deserved the respect a leader receives as well.
A silent stream of tears flowed down Ninon’s eyes. She knew it was one of, if not the very last time she would get to speak with Ortrun. With no more words left to be said from her side, all she could do was nod slowly, wiping the wetness from her eyes. And soon after that, she was on her way with Alda to the one temple that would be willing to receive her at such an hour—the Great Temple of Pizna.