Halsten stared with wide eyes as they glimpsed at the accessory encircled around Ilmatar’s wrist. He did not need for her to speak its name for him to know what it was. Its age and the woman’s peaceful entry into the palace all but confirmed what it was.
“That’s… that is an ancient artifact, well over a millennium old!” Halsten exclaimed. “Why do you have it?”
“It was a gamble,” Ilmatar explained. “But I found it among a collection of salvaged artifacts. The servants… they collected whatever little they could find as fast as they could. I never knew how useful the wrist fobs used by the Co-Emperors’ households would be all these years later.”
“What do you mean, servants?” Halsten asked, taking a slight step back, appalled. “The ones of the Solich family? But how? How did this get into your hands?”
“W-Would you care if I told you a… story?” Ilmatar offered, forcing herself to get over her anxiety.
“If it means explaining this conundrum, then I would very much like to.”
Unwilling to cause a commotion among his own servants, Halsten led the woman to his private study, next door to the Emperors’ chambers. With there being only one chair, he offered it to Ilmatar. An Emperor, standing before an ordinary subject of his—or so he initially suspected, was only one oddity he displayed.
“Y-Your Highness, is this all necessary?” Ilmatar wondered, her eyes darting around.
“I only mean to put you at ease, Ms. Holub. I’ve come to learn on my own that… it’s better. Better than what I’ve seen throughout the years. My apologies, please start whenever you are ready.”
“This happened 47 years in the past, an entire lifetime and two emperors ago,” Ilmatar said after taking a deep breath and a few moments to sort her thoughts. “Your own father was only a babe at the time. I believe you are aware of the single significant occurrence that year.”
“That was when the entire Solich family was murdered. The Solich Massacre.” Halsten nodded.
“E-Exactly, Your Highness,” Ilmatar nodded. “Every single person with the surname, and from the female line within five generations had been wiped out with a matter of two nights. Then came the Emperor’s brothers and sisters, his Empress Consort and his two daughters, and finally himself.”
“Something tells me that night did not go as told,” Halsten surmised. “In my year as Emperor so far, I’ve come across many discrepancies between the truth and what has been written. So what do you have to tell me that will challenge my beliefs?”
“Your Highness… do you know the tradition of the Fifth Year?” Ilmatar asked.
“Solich royals only revealed the birth of a male child when they once they complete five years of life.” Halsten briefly explained, omitting to tell why that tradition was there at all. He expected a woman like Ilmatar to already know.
“Piran and his wife had a little boy,” Ilmatar revealed. “He was a year old at the time.”
“Y-You’ve got to be kidding me,” Halsten said, unconsciously slumping his shoulders as he felt a sense of shame for a sin his grandfather had committed over two decades before his own birth. “I-I suppose it makes sense why no one came for him. But what about him? He wasn’t killed, surely.”
Ilmatar nodded. “His name was Iago. On that night where the entire immediate royal family died, Piran had only two orders for his servants. One, to salvage whatever artifacts they could that belonged to the family so that their history wouldn’t be completely erased. Two, to flee with little Iago and raise him in secret while teaching him the history and lessons of his family. They got him out just as Emperor Haldor and his elite guards stormed the Palace.”
Piran Solich’s remaining family fought as hard and as long as they could, but they were no match for the ferocity, brutality, and mercilessness of the Karesti’s. An ancient, revered bloodline went extinct that night. Only on paper, though.
“So the Solich family still lives…” Halsten muttered.
“Yes, Your Highness. They took him to a little village on Mars, far away from any town, and raised him under a false name. He grew up and married a daughter of one of the servants who rescued him, and together they had a little girl.”
“A—A little girl…?” Halsten muttered. “Ms. Holub, does that mean you are…”
The Emperor trailed off. Despite the verbal story he was presented with and the physical artifact right before his eyes, he found it near impossible to believe.
Stolen story; please report.
“Yes, Your Highness. I am Iago’s daughter… Emperor Piran’s granddaughter. I am the last member of the Solich family. And I have come to you with a great request.”
Without hesitation, Halsten dropped to one knee before Ilmatar, to her utter confusion.
“Y-Your Highness?” she uttered.
“You are the heir to one of the two families who have ever had complete dominion over our moon,” Halsten explained. “You would be Empress today had the Solich family not been vanquished. You deserve the respect of someone of your status.”
“Y-Your Highness, please stand up. I really don't care for ruling. I m-merely wished to ask something of you—
Ilmatar only saw a flash before her eyes, before she found a thin, sharp sensation in her left forearm. She looked down to see Gareth inserting a needle in her forearm, drawing blood from her body. Her breathing intensified, and even in the dry and bitterly cold Titanian climate, she found herself sweating.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Holub—or rather, Lady Solich,” Halsten said as he rose to his feet. “Your story is credible. But if the Solich bloodline is really still alive, I don’t want to insult them by potentially allowing an imposter to steal their name. You’ll have your DNA tested to confirm the veracity of your words. This is just a precaution.”
Gareth taped a swab of cotton on where he drew the blood, before wordlessly leaving the study. Ilmatar sighed a breath of relief.
“What I came here to ask… what I request of you, Your Highness, is that you…”
--
“Stop!” Ninon cried, shaking Alda’s shoulders. The woman’s eyes were shining with both determination and dejection, reflecting the moral duty she chose to fulfill. “Stop it right now! Don’t tell me anymore… please!”
“This is your truth, Princess Ninon. That was who she was. It’s… who you are. But—
“No,” Ninon whispered, posing on her hands and knees towards her mother’s sarcophagus. “No, no, no!”
Alda tried to put a comforting hand on the girl’s shoulder, but it was swatted away.
“I didn’t want to know, Alda! This… this is all so much! My father coming back to life, finding out that I am the heir to both royal families, having to choose how I confront this.”
Alda almost flinched as the girl let out a shriek of raw misery. Never had she seen Ninon so pained and confused before. She got to her feet.
“P-Please forgive me, Princess Ninon. I will give you some space to process all this.”
Alda distanced herself by about 15 yards, passing through the labyrinth of sarcophagi. One of them had only been placed there a few months earlier and did not bear the Karesti coat of arms, much like Ilmatar’s. Alda caught a glimpse of that container, which held Kallista Laine’s head, but paid it no mind.
I am… only another employee of the Palace. The taxes of the Empire pay me and keep me fed. This is my job, is it not? But why do I feel my heart fall at the sound of that girl’s agony?
“Alda,” Ninon spoke with a sniffly voice after an eternity, trying incredibly hard to fight back the tears that were itching to fall out of the corners of her eyes. “Tell me. Did Aunt Rhona make you train me in the priesthood?”
“Yes, Princess Ninon,” Alda said, her back still facing the young girl. “She did. I am… so, so sorry. I had no choice.”
“Why?” Ninon asked, the tone of her voice clearly indicating that she was losing the battle against the weight of it all. “So that I wouldn’t have to become the Empress anyway? Even if Father did come back?”
“Yes, Princess Ninon.” Alda said. Rhona never confirmed it outright, but that was the only logical reason for such a demand. It was the only way to prevent a Solich Princess from gaining the throne without harming a member of the Karesti bloodline.
If Ninon’s weeping was already a steady stream, it was now a rushing current. She pressed her palms to her face, as if it had a dulling effect from the pain her heart was enduring. Her body shook, and with each sob she took, her chest felt heavier. The weight of it all—learning that she was the heir to both of the most powerful families ever born of Titan, and the fact that her own beloved aunt was scheming against a girl who she thought had loved her like a daughter—was unbearable.
Alda had tried to convince herself that the ugly sounds coming from Ninon had no effect on her, that they were something she was expected to face as hired help. But what had caused Ninon to explode into sorrow was not a result of the duties Emperor Halsten and Empress Consort Ilmatar had bestowed upon her 11 years ago. No, in fact, Ninon was in such a state because Alda had broken a vow she made to Emperor and Empress Consort. A breach so grave, that it would cost her own life. At what point? She did not know, nor did she seem to care.
Let her cry some more, Alda told herself while keeping her back to Ninon. Then we must prepare to leave as soon as Rhona leaves for the Military HQ. That is the only choice being given to me. I cannot undo what I have done. Perhaps I deserve the fate that awaits me. But… I did it all for her, didn’t I?
“You didn’t have to…” Ninon spoke after kneeling for so long her legs became sore, gradually sliding her hands away from her face. “You didn’t have to tell me about her.”
“I had to, so you could decide what to do next,” Alda persisted in rationalising her actions. “To rule someday or to not. Your heart bleeds. This is a truth that—
“I don’t care about the truth right now,” Ninon said, rising to her feet and stepping towards Alda in a zombie-like fashion. “But… there is something that I have always felt… deep within my heart. More important than any damned truth,”
Alda stood still as Ninon stopping moving so close, that her back would be flush against the girl’s chest.
“I’ve always had a mother and father with me,” Ninon bent her knees and leaned forward, resting her forehead against the back of the slightly shorter Alda’s neck. “And not a single person has had to tell me. I’ve always known that.”
Alda felt a salty wetness against her spine. Knowing exactly what Ninon meant, she too released her own silent, but apparent stream of tears.
Alda Silje had been born 30 years ago, but her life truly started 11 years earlier, when she had first met the Royal Family. Now, one thing was for certain. The unspoken familial connection she had made with Ninon reciprocated in full. And that could not have made her any happier.
"Let's go, my Princess," the servant spoke with a faintest hint of a sniffle. "We have work to do."