This is a short piece set right after the events in Chosen of Kore and contains spoilers for such. Think of it as an extended epilogue.

Yarrow shifted in her seat, trying to ignore the fit of her new peplos. She would have preferred to wear one of her old ones today, truthfully, but that wasn’t something that could have been allowed. Not only because they were the wrong colour. The Queen, wearing an old peplos at her Sceptrionam? Scandalous.

So she sat and kept her Queen’s Face nailed on, smiling serenely at the celebrants in the hall for supper, and made a note in her mental efemira that the Queen needed a new tailor. This one hadn’t taken into account that her weight would likely fluctuate between the time he’d taken her measurements and now, and the peplos and its bodice were tight around her midsection.

Queen. She was queen, now—truly she couldn’t run from it anymore, for all that her ascension had happened in the aftermath of that vicious battle with Umbra. Between then and now it had almost seemed dreamlike, something she might wake up from at any moment.

Now, having supper, after all the high-ranking Ladies and military officials had attended the ceremony that had put the final, official veneer on Yarrow’s investiture—no escaping it now. She was Queen, like it or not.

She was fairly sure she didn’t.

She made herself take another small bite of her food, though everything smelled off to her. How she’d made it through the ceremony without vomiting, or worse, falling asleep in the throne, she didn’t know. This, undoubtedly, was why Athering’s Queens were supposed to choose a Consort after the ceremony—doing it in the early stages of pregnancy was a nightmare.

Her hand folded over her belly, half-unconsciously. She had taken that moment of the ceremony not to choose a Consort, which she’d be eschewing for a while, but to officially note the paternity of her unborn child. It had been a risk, perhaps—the whispers that had rippled through the courtiers as she named her dead twin sister’s royal consort, Caelum deTerra, as the father, could serve to hurt Yarrow down the road.

But Caelum had been her major, her best friend, her lover first. And the goddesses Themselves had confirmed what Yarrow had already known in her bones: the only way the man she loved would live now was through the child they’d made together. Unplanned, but the happiest mistake she’d ever made.

She gritted her teeth and willed her thoughts away. Thinking of Caelum or Zardria now was an unhappy mistake if she wanted to keep that serene smile on her face, or keep herself from crying. Something she did far too damn often these days as it was.

Soon supper was over, and she could stop attempting to eat through the nausea. Thank the Goddesses.

The hall was changed, servants moving tables away to create space for dancing, and Yarrow stayed in her seat for now, not feeling up quite yet to asking anyone to dance with her. Traditionally she’d have her first dance with her Consort now, and that would then open the floor to anyone else who wanted to dance after. If she hadn’t chosen a consort, it would be expected she dance with eligible men tonight.

Yarrow was not being traditional, in many ways.

She’d had an Sceptrionam, not a Birthright Ceremony. A small, but distinct difference. The Birthright Ceremony was to be held on the Queen’s birthday. Yarrow’s bloody ascension to Queen had happened a full month and a half after her birthday. Instead of waiting a full year to do the ceremony, she and the priestesses had conferred and decided sooner was better than later when it came to making things official.

There was still unrest, after all. She had to smooth things where she could.

And, Juno’s tits, if the ceremony today had been this taxing while in her early pregnancy she could hardly stand to imagine what it would be like with a babe in arms.

So, she and High Priestess Sarai had decided upon the Sceptrionam—a slightly out-of-fashion ceremony that nonetheless was a completely legitimate way to make a Queen’s ascension official in Athering. It was, truthfully, almost identical to the Birthright Ceremony. She was even wearing the same colour peplos as her sister had.

Another tradition she’d refused to participate in: the destruction of her sword.

When her mother had become Queen, the ex-bellica’s sword had been shattered—a symbolic move to show that she no longer protected the nation with her physical might, but with her spirit.

A stupid tradition that Yarrow had always hated. She’d kept her mother’s sword on a shrine in the West Tower. When she’d finally gotten a chance to check on it, she’d found the tower locked—and when she’d finally entered, the shrine had been destroyed. The sword gone, no doubt given to the metal crafters to recycle.

Her sword was new, and it was gorgeous. A true work of art. She could not allow it to be shattered, any more than she could set fire to the Temple, or destroy the paintings that decorated the halls of the castle.

But she could no longer wield it herself. That part of the tradition she was obliged to follow. The balance she had to strike, to soothe what unrest there was, while not losing herself in her new role.

She’d gifted it to Bellica Coalette—newly-made leader of the first regiment, Yarrow’s old command. Coalette had served under Yarrow, when Yarrow had been bellica of that regiment, and so far as the Queen was concerned the younger woman had earned the right to carry a sword such as that.

It looked good, strapped to the woman’s waist. Yarrow had made the right decision.

No one had approached her yet, sitting in her chair and watching the proceedings. Some had braved the dance floor; others mingled and talked. She searched the crowd for the ones she sought—tonight was a party, yes, but the Queen’s work was never done, and there was overdue business she had to attend to tonight.

“Stephanie,” she murmured. Immediately the captain of her Queensguard stepped closer, inclining her head for instructions. “Where is Lady Lihin? I haven’t seen her since supper.”

Yarrow’s grandmother had been seated down the table from her. They had not yet had a chance to even say hello, as the older woman had arrived in town the night before.

Tyvian, she hadn’t had a chance to speak to Grandmama since Zardria’s Birthright Ceremony—when Yarrow had been accused of treason and exiled from the country on pain of death.

She didn’t even know what Alexandra thought of her eldest granddaughter now.

“I know not, Your Majesty,” Stephanie said. “Shall I send someone to search for her?”

“Do not make a big production of it,” Yarrow said. “I need to speak with her, but it is not urgent.” Not terribly, at least.

Stephanie nodded and faded back again. Yarrow heard rustling and softly spoken orders, and knew another of her Queensguard would be on the hunt for her grandmother.

She made herself relax in her chair, as much as she could, and resolved not to rub her face tiredly. All she wanted in this moment was a nap, but the party would wind on for another few hours at least, and she was expected to be here for all of it.

A familiar head of black hair—no longer in a bun but cropped short—approached her chair before dipping down low in a bow before her.

“Yer Majesty.”

Yarrow made a noise of irritation in her throat. “You don’t bow to me, old friend.”

Anala’s grin was unrepentant as she stood. “Ah, but ye ken I must. Wouldnae do for the Lady Exsil Vis to show such disrespect to Athering’s new Queen.”

Anala’s grin had faded momentarily, replaced by trepidation and disgust, as she’d referred to her new title. Just as quickly she molded her face back into the mask she’d worn all day.

Yarrow smiled in solidarity and held her hand out to Anala, wishing she could stand to embrace the shorter woman—but that was not something she could do, either, let she be forced to embrace every person that approached her today. The embrace of hands they shared would have to be enough. She gave Anala’s fingers a small squeeze.

“Thank you for staying in town for this,” she said softly. “It means more than you know.”

Anala inclined her head. “Luckily, me broken arm and leg meant I wasnae ready to travel afore now.” She stepped close to Yarrow and dropped her voice to a volume only the two of them could hear. “Truthfully, I almost wish Ghia hadn’t used her healing powers on me. I could have stood to put off going back to Voco for a while yet.”

Yarrow let out a soft snort of laughter as her eyes slid over to regard Lares Stout-Heart, standing several paces away. He hadn’t approached with Anala, but he stood close enough to defend her from any threat, and Yarrow could see the Vocan’s eyes scanning the room and the area around Anala constantly. “I think if that were the case, Lares would have had a nervous breakdown,” she said to her friend.

Anala chuckled. “Ach, well, what’s another one? I’d’ve already given him several.”

Yarrow released her friend’s hand and sat back in her chair again. “Where’s your sister tonight?”

“Ah, that.” Anala’s face fell. “Ye’ll have to forgive me, old friend. I commandeered some troops from me old regiment to guard her tonight, and had the healers brew up a sleeping draught for her. She’d be resting peacefully. Couldnae afford to let her come to the festivities tonight.”

Yarrow’s brows knit in concern. “She’s still fighting you?”

“Lares and I sleep in shifts, and we’d’ve made sure she’s no access to knives anymore,” she said in response. “It’ll take time, ye ken.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Yarrow did not like the idea of her friend being in so much danger from her own sister.

Anala quirked her mouth in an amused grin. “I’d say ye have quite enough on yer plate, Yer Majesty,” she said, special emphasis on Yarrow’s new title. “I can see the shadows under yer eyes from across the room.”

“Oh feck off,” Yarrow muttered, eliciting a laugh from Anala. “It’s this Althea-damned pregnancy. Despite everything I have to do, I’ve still been sleeping more than eight hours a night and it’s never enough. Feel like I could sleep another ten each day.” She stopped herself just in time from rubbing her eyes tiredly. “You still leave in the morning?”

“Aye, early as we can. It’d be why I came over now—we’ll like as not have to leave the party soon, so we can each get some sleep afore Miranda wakes.”

Yarrow clasped her friend’s hand again. “I’ll miss you, Anala. Please know that at any time, if you decide Voco doesn’t deserve you—and they don’t, by the way—you are welcome to come home. I’ll even create a new title for you, if you get a taste for nobility and wish to keep it.”

Anala made a face. “That’d be a cold day in Tyvian.” She glanced over her shoulder briefly, looking at her paxwoman. “I’ll keep yer offer in mind,” she continued in a whisper. “Just keep a spot in the regiments open for me, ye ken?”

“You want to be Admiral again, it’s yours,” Yarrow said in all seriousness.

Anala sighed wistfully. “Thank ye, friend. And thanks for the use of the troops to guard me sister. I should have asked, but I figured ye wouldnae begrudge me it.”

“Never.” Yarrow gave a firm shake of her head, then frowned, something occurring to her. “Do you have an entourage to travel with you tomorrow? Your Honour Guard?”

Sadness crossed Anala’s face. “Nae. Dagon’d been missing still. I’d told him to lay low once Zardria….” She shook her head, no doubt trying to shake the memories. “But I havenae been able to find him since the invasion.”

Yarrow sighed, her mouth set in a grim line. It had been over two tredicems since Voco—under the rule of Anala’s late father, Lord Maurice Exsil Vis—had invaded Atherton, blowing up the South Gate, burning parts of the city, and killing scores of citizens. Most of Yarrow’s job since her ascension had been dealing with the aftermath, and she knew better than most they still didn’t have a proper accounting of the dead.

It was very likely Dagon was among them.

“Surely you can’t plan to travel just the three of you?” Lares was good with his many weapons, Yarrow knew, and Anala was a trained bellica—with Magi powers besides. It had been her sword that had killed the dark goddess possessing Yarrow’s twin.

Even so, just the two of them travelling with Miranda—when they had to not only guard the girl from outside forces, but themselves from her—was foolish.

“Nae, we’d thought to hire an escort.”

Yarrow shook her head. “Speak to Bellica Ianthe and ask for some troops to be your guard. I can lend them out as far as Harbourtown.” Anala opened her mouth to protest; Yarrow cut her off. “No arguments. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you on the road. In fact….” She signalled to one of her Queensguard, and within moments the woman had disappeared into the crowd; another few moments passed, and then Bellica Ianthe stood before the Queen, bowing low.

The discomfort she felt seeing all that bowing was something she was going to have to get used to.

“Bellica Ianthe, the Lady Exsil Vis requires an entourage for her journey to Harbourtown tomorrow. I thought to ask for some volunteers from the Second Regiment.”

Bellica Ianthe had trouble keeping back her smile. “I’m sure you’ll have no trouble with that, Your Majesty.” Anala’s former troops were still loyal to her—would likely be until death. Yarrow’s friend had a strange charisma that created a die-for-her loyalty over those she outranked.

Yarrow hoped to the Goddesses it would extend to the island of Mt. Voco, or the tough road Anala would have to walk would be much more difficult.

Anala looked between the two of them, her face clearly saying she knew when she’d been outmaneuvered. Yarrow couldn’t help her grin of triumph. “Go on, then; I’ll let you two sort it out. Make sure you get me a report on who gets sent, Bellica.”

Ianthe inclined her head. “Ma’am.”

Anala chuckled. “I owe ye for this,” she said to Yarrow.

Yarrow let the two of them leave her presence, off to discuss who would go. She didn’t argue with her friend, but Anala would never owe Yarrow anything ever again. It was Yarrow who owed her life to the other woman, and she’d never stop trying to repay her.

***

Anala’s approach to the Queen’s seat had released some sort of tension in the room, for soon after she left Yarrow had a never-ending stream of visitors. Some she knew well, some she knew only by name. Courtiers and commoners, military and nobles alike, all coming up to wish her well or ingratiate themselves with her.

Luckily none of the nobles used the opportunity to plead for things on behalf of their provinces—Yarrow had forestalled that by announcing her upcoming tour. In a tredicem she and her entourage would leave Atherton and begin a tour of all the provinces and towns of Athering. They’d start in Harbourtown, then head to Mudflat for a bit before continuing to Atton—this way she could possibly catch the Bacchanalia in the northern town, though it wasn’t a sure thing—before swinging down south and east, all the way to Nucalif.

After Nucalif she’d stop in Two-sides and Aeril, before heading to Smoke, then finally the tour would end in Southland.

It would take months, and she’d have to keep to a strict schedule to make sure she could make it back to Atherton before it became too rough for her to travel.

She wasn’t truly looking forward to it, but it was necessary. Each stop in each town would let her know the needs of the people, and then she could start making the changes that Athering needed. Residents of Atherton had easy access to her as Queen—they were able to petition in the Receiving Room—but the rest of her subjects had to travel if they wanted to ask her for anything. Starting her reign with a tour like this showed her people that she was there for them—that she was endeavouring to be worthy of the trust they’d placed in her.

In her absence, Atherton would be watched over by the noble family that had long held mayoral duties in the city, and she had some trusted advisors looking after the country as a whole and whatever queenly duties she could not attend to.

It was a risk. If her ascension had been approaching normal, she would not have gone on the tour herself but sent her Consort.

But, again, she felt it necessary—and announcing it had had the added benefit of her not having to deal with people asking for things for the town or province they represented tonight. That alone made it worth it.

In a lull between people approaching her, Stephanie came close and gave her an update on the search for Lady Lihin—Grandmama now knew Yarrow would like to speak with her, and would make her way over as soon as she could.

Yarrow nodded, and then—as if by magek—the other two people she wanted to see began their approach.

Ghia and Jules were dressed formally—she in a peplos, he in his dress fustanella and a new dress shirt, no doubt to replace the dress greys he would have worn when he’d been in the military. Their hair was mussed and Ghia’s face was pink, her entire being screaming that she was flustered. She and Jules dropped into twin curtsies before Yarrow, greeting her as befit her station, and Yarrow couldn’t help but mark Ghia’s grimace as she stood again.

Yarrow greeted her friends with a smile. “I didn’t see you two at supper,” she said, her tone carefully neutral.

Ghia’s face turned even more pink, bordering on red, and Jules rubbed the back of his neck, coughing as he avoided Yarrow’s eye contact.

“We were talking,” Ghia said, a little too loud and stridently. “We lost track of time. Many apologies, Your Majesty.”

Yarrow barely held back her laughter as she gestured for Ghia to come even closer to her chair. The girl obeyed, and Yarrow leaned in to whisper: “you still have a few buttons undone on your peplos.”

Ghia’s eyes widened in panic, and she immediately moved to fix the problem. Jules came in a little closer, angling his body so that no one could easily see what Ghia was doing.

“We are sorry, Your Majesty,” he said, sounding contrite, his face with that same look it had always held when he’d fecked up and was waiting for his bellica’s judgement.

Yarrow shook her head at her former CMO. “I won’t begrudge you any time together you can steal. Especially as it’s going to get more difficult in the near future.”

Before he could ask her what she meant, she gestured that they should move to the side, just a bit, and then bade the person behind them to approach.

Lady Alexandra Lihin’s hair and face had aged, but she still stood straight and tall—though not quite as tall as Yarrow. Alexandra approached the chair and curtsied low. She kept her eyes on the Queen as she stood again, and Yarrow could not read the woman’s feelings at all.

“Your Majesty. My many congratulations on your Sceptrionam.” Alexandra smiled at her granddaughter, and Yarrow thought she saw something deeper in the look than just a noble wishing the required congratulations to the new sovereign. “May your reign be long and true.”

That had the ring of truth to it. Yarrow took a chance, and stood from her chair. She opened her arms to her grandmother—the only person in the room she could safely embrace without setting a precedent that would force her to hug everyone else.

Alexandra stepped forward and hugged the queen for the exact amount of time that was proper, and then they broke apart. Yarrow could see in her grandmother’s eyes that she’d had nothing to worry about; Grandmama had not abandoned her. She breathed a discreet sigh of relief.

“Grandmama, I have someone I’d like you to meet.” She held her hand out to Ghia, and the girl stepped forward, her own hands twisting around each other like she meant to massage the bones right out of them. Alexandra had a polite, confused smile on her face.

“Lady Lihin, allow me to introduce you to Ghia. You may know her as the daughter of our Head Healer, Helene, but did you know she was adopted?”

Alexandra shook her head slowly, her brows pinching together. She took a closer look at the red-headed healer before her, as if she’d never really looked at the woman before now. 

“Ghia was found on Helene’s doorstep in Primera, 4001. All she had on her was a necklace. Ghia, will you show the Lady your necklace?”

The tension among them hung heavy like a cloud, waiting to burst forth into rain. Ghia took another step forward and pulled her necklace out from under her peplos, holding the pendant up for the Lady to look at.

Alexandra took the pendant in a shaking hand, looking at the crest on one side, and then the other.

 “This….” Alexandra’s voice shook with her hand as she lost the words she wanted to say. She recognized the necklace, of course, with its two crests on it, showing the twin lines—Lihin and Exsil Vis—Ghia came from. Yarrow had known she would.

“Atton has an heir again,” the Queen said, sotto voce.

Alexandra looked at Ghia’s face again, staring at her intently, seeing everything she’d missed the times she’d seen her youngest granddaughter before—the family resemblance.

“You’re alive,” Alexandra whispered.

Ghia nodded, biting her lower lip. She opened her mouth as if to say something—likely an apology of some sort, if Yarrow knew her cousin at all—but she was cut off as Alexandra wrapped her arms around her, holding her tight. “My baby girl,” Alexandra murmured, so soft Yarrow almost didn’t hear it. “You’re alive.”

Slowly Ghia’s arms came around Alexandra, returning the hug, and the two women started crying, the cloud of tension finally breaking forth into its promised rain.

Yarrow took a step back, letting her cousin and their grandmother reunite, and grinned at Jules.

“You’re going to be the Lord of Atton,” she said, with all the joy of knowing her friend was going to be suffering almost as much as she was. 

Jules paled, sudden realization crashing down on him that being betrothed to the future Lady Lihin meant he had to become nobility.

A moment later his face cleared; he laughed and shook his head. “Ghia’s worth it,” he said softly. “Besides,” he added, teasing glint in his eyes as he looked at her sidelong, “it’ll be far easier a job than Queen, so I daresay I’m the winner in this situation.”

Yarrow narrowed her eyes at Jules, the grin he now had on his face, the sheer enjoyment he was feeling as he teased her over her new position (that she’d never actually wanted). The fact that he was right, damn him—being Lord Lihin would be a feck of a lot easier than Queen of the Reiaume.

She returned her attention to her relatives, who stood with hands clasped, faces streaked with tears. If they had said anything else, Yarrow had missed it, but she took advantage of the moment of quiet between them.

“Grandmama, do you know Jules deTania? He’s Ghia’s betrothed.”

Alexandra’s eyes widened and her gaze bounced among the three of them. “Betrothed,” she breathed.

Ghia cast Yarrow a quick glance, before fidgeting uncomfortably and returning her attention to Grandmama. “Yes,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. “We’ve been engaged since Midspring.”

Jules took the opportunity to curtsy before his future in-law.

“This is wonderful news,” Alexandra said. Ghia’s posture relaxed a fraction.

“Isn’t it? I’m so happy for my cousin,” Yarrow said, and while she was not at all lying, the note of calculation in her voice was clear enough to said cousin, who looked at her sharply. “I hope I’ll be able to make it to their wedding.”

“Oh, we haven’t set—”

“Yes, you must come, of course,” Alexandra said, completely missing Ghia’s protest. “It would be unthinkable otherwise.”

“We are in agreement,” Yarrow said, again cutting off Ghia, whose mouth was open but no sound came out. “But I don’t know how it will happen—I have the tour of the provinces and after I won’t be able to travel for quite a while.”

“We’re okay with a long engag—”

“It won’t do to put it off so long anyway—we’ll schedule it to coincide with your visit to Atton.” Alexandra nodded decisively.

“What a splendid idea, Grandmama. I hope to arrive by the end of next month.”

“Wait a min—”

“That will be perfect. We can set the wedding for the sixth of Penta, and if the vintners are correct, both the wedding and your visit will happen during the Bacchanalia.”

“A most auspicious beginning,” Yarrow said, wide smile on her face. “But are you sure that’s enough time to plan it?”

Alexandra smiled, and turned her gaze to Jules, who had grown progressively paler during this exchange. “I’m sure Lord Jules is more than up to the task.”

Jules’ gaze bounced between his fiancé, standing looking outraged at the maneuvering going around her, and his future grandmother-in-law. He cleared his throat and dipped in a hasty curtsy. “Yes, of course, Your Ladyship.”

Alexandra’s smile turned indulgent. “You may call me Alexandra, Jules. You are marrying my granddaughter, after all. And don’t look so scared. You’ll have plenty of help in planning the wedding.”

She clapped her hands together, going on without giving Jules a chance to respond. “Perfect. I must find my attendant so we can begin planning tonight. And we should leave for Atton in the morning.”

“Make it afternoon, Grandmama. I’d like you all to come break fast with me.”

It was an order from the sovereign, and Lady Lihin was no stranger to court manners. She inclined her head in her granddaughter’s direction. “Of course. We’ll make plans to leave by dinner.”

Alexandra placed her hands on Ghia’s shoulders, a tender smile on her face. “I cannot tell you how happy I am to have you returned to me, my darling. We have so much to catch up on.” She gave Ghia’s shoulders a brief squeeze. “But not tonight. I will have your rooms made up in our suite immediately, and you both can retire there tonight. Tomorrow we can take tea together before we join the Queen for breakfast, and we can get started getting to know each other.”

Ghia nodded, looking half-dazed at the speed at which things had been decided around her. Alexandra bade her and Jules to find her later, and took her leave of them to find her attendant, to start things moving. Yarrow had no doubt the announcement of the wedding would leave the city tonight. They were locked in now.

Ghia turned a glare on Yarrow. The Queen grinned and lowered herself to Ghia’s height, to whisper in her cousin’s ear.

“Did you truly think you were the only one in this family with a mouth that works at a horse’s gallop and a penchant for meddling?”

“When you come to visit I shall put cold fish in your bed,” Ghia said, but there was little force behind it.

Yarrow smirked as she returned to her full height. Ghia glared up at her, then huffed and actually stomped a foot. “I’m off to find a drink,” she muttered, and stormed off, hunting for a servant with a tray of beverages.

Jules let out a sigh in a long exhalation. “Well-played, Yarrow.”

“I’m quite proud of myself,” Yarrow said, grinning. “See you at breakfast, Jules. Oh, and enjoy your move to the Lihin suites. About time you got out of the barracks.”

Jules knew a dismissal when he heard one. He curtsied to her again and took his leave, off to no doubt stop Ghia from losing her temper on someone undeserving.

Yarrow re-took her seat and settled in for the rest of the party, floating on the enjoyment that had given her for the next several hours.