Esha remembers her second engagement much better than her first one. She was barely nine the first time around, so she doesn't think she can be faulted for that. Most of the talks were conducted behind closed doors, and she was only directly asked for her opinion at the very end, although plenty of relatives and courtiers did prod her and Arketh in a roundabout way. As much as she cherishes those memories, time has worn them out. Revisiting them feels like a pleasant dream nowadays.
She remembers every detail of her second engagement vividly. Two brothers in the grave, and Esha's family was expected to dine with the man responsible. The emperor Kozmorath had strutted into the mahal as if it were his, commenting on how quaint the architecture was and the slowness of the servants. He'd dismissed their customs as barbarous, talking lightheartedly as he prodded as the very foundations of their kingdom. Everyone knew that he was trying to get a reaction from them. Often, he succeeded.
The palace staff had suddenly started working in pairs for his visit. Esha noticed quickly. So did her family. They'd all clustered around her whenever Kozmorath entered the room, made sure he was never alone with her. That had been their greatest mistake.
"I have been thinking," the emperor announced towards the end of their meal. "This war and our new alliance has had me pondering the important things in life. Together, our nations will find prosperity and glory, of course. But what is that without a line of succession?"
The room went dead silent.
"Your younger daughter is intelligent, charming, not particularly hard on the eyes," he continued, grinning. "I daresay it won't take her long to unlearn her blasphemous ways. The war just ended. This seems like a logical path forward to peace, would it not?"
Beneath the table, Esha saw her father clenching his fists. She thought of her brothers' corpses rotting somewhere in the Wasteland, the blood of her nation watering the soil, and agreed before anyone could protest. A glint in his eyes, Kozmorath drank a hearty toast to the two of them.
Now, her husband only drinks his wine in small sips. He grimaces afterwards far less than he used to. Sometimes under his breath he mutters about something called sake.
Esha watches her husband eating, notes how he avoids using people's names. She's heard that poison can do strange things to the mind, seen it with one of her cousins. This feels different.
The emperor asks her what her favorite food was the next evening. Esha says something with a lot of milk, knowing the general tiefling intolerance for the substance. The day after, he managed to make it through a whole dish before suddenly disappearing to the privy.
Everyone else at the dinner table pretends not to stare at the empty seat beside Esha. She thinks about how tumultuous her life has been, for her to have married a different man than either one she was engaged to.
FILL: Team Magical Girls
Esha remembers her second engagement much better than her first one. She was barely nine the first time around, so she doesn't think she can be faulted for that. Most of the talks were conducted behind closed doors, and she was only directly asked for her opinion at the very end, although plenty of relatives and courtiers did prod her and Arketh in a roundabout way. As much as she cherishes those memories, time has worn them out. Revisiting them feels like a pleasant dream nowadays.
She remembers every detail of her second engagement vividly. Two brothers in the grave, and Esha's family was expected to dine with the man responsible. The emperor Kozmorath had strutted into the mahal as if it were his, commenting on how quaint the architecture was and the slowness of the servants. He'd dismissed their customs as barbarous, talking lightheartedly as he prodded as the very foundations of their kingdom. Everyone knew that he was trying to get a reaction from them. Often, he succeeded.
The palace staff had suddenly started working in pairs for his visit. Esha noticed quickly. So did her family. They'd all clustered around her whenever Kozmorath entered the room, made sure he was never alone with her. That had been their greatest mistake.
"I have been thinking," the emperor announced towards the end of their meal. "This war and our new alliance has had me pondering the important things in life. Together, our nations will find prosperity and glory, of course. But what is that without a line of succession?"
The room went dead silent.
"Your younger daughter is intelligent, charming, not particularly hard on the eyes," he continued, grinning. "I daresay it won't take her long to unlearn her blasphemous ways. The war just ended. This seems like a logical path forward to peace, would it not?"
Beneath the table, Esha saw her father clenching his fists. She thought of her brothers' corpses rotting somewhere in the Wasteland, the blood of her nation watering the soil, and agreed before anyone could protest. A glint in his eyes, Kozmorath drank a hearty toast to the two of them.
Now, her husband only drinks his wine in small sips. He grimaces afterwards far less than he used to. Sometimes under his breath he mutters about something called sake.
Esha watches her husband eating, notes how he avoids using people's names. She's heard that poison can do strange things to the mind, seen it with one of her cousins. This feels different.
The emperor asks her what her favorite food was the next evening. Esha says something with a lot of milk, knowing the general tiefling intolerance for the substance. The day after, he managed to make it through a whole dish before suddenly disappearing to the privy.
Everyone else at the dinner table pretends not to stare at the empty seat beside Esha. She thinks about how tumultuous her life has been, for her to have married a different man than either one she was engaged to.