Grief’s Demands
Written by J-Haskell.
A story taking place shortly after news of Prince Ohtli’s execution reached Padwell. Toivo Aalto, though still recovering from his injuries, insists on an audience with Queen Tuonetar so that he may be judged for his perceived failure to protect his Prince and love…
…Though the judgement he receives may not be quite what he was searching for.
. . .
It’s my fault,” Toivo said, and fell to his knees before the Queen. Despite the protest of his wounds, he flattened himself to the smooth wooden floor of the audience chamber. Whatever pain it brought was no less than he deserved. “I should have been the one to die, not the Prince. It should have been me making the sacrifice, not him. I failed him. I failed you. I failed our country.”
Tuonetar did not answer him immediately. Toivo dared to look up. He wanted to read malice on her face, anger in her cool grey eyes, because it was what he deserved. He had lost Ohtli, he had let him die. She had to understand that this was because of him. That he had not earned the right to lay in sickbed and be tended to by healers. That all he had earned was a grave marked ‘traitor’.
But Tuonetar’s face was a calm mask. Only her eyes betrayed the wild grief that they both shared; red-rimmed and glassy. “Toivo…”
Her tone was not unkind, and that stabbed bitter shards into Toivo’s heart. He did not want sympathy. He wanted judgement, trial, to be held responsible for his failing. “My Queen, do not take pity on me—”
“Be silent. If you would demand I pass judgement, then you will close your mouth and bear my words.” All softness fled Tuonetar’s voice. The hairs on the back of Toivo’s neck rose. “You tell me that your actions, or inaction, killed my brother. I do not know what happened in Xocrium. I do know that I allowed my brother to create his Redwings. I did not demand as firmly as I could have that he abandon his mission and return to the safety of Maddox. If blame is to be lain, it should be shared.”
He gaped. He would never have dared accuse the Queen of being even partly to blame for Ohtli’s fate.
She continued. “I do know that my brother loved you, more dearly than anything in this Realm. I know that he named you icutli, and made you a part of our family. I know that he would have done anything for you, given anything—even his own life. My great-grandfather sacrificed his reputation with the people to build us an army. My parents sacrificed their lives to build our alliances. My oldest brother sacrificed his breath and body to build our pride and spur us to action.” Tuonetar’s face softened at the edges, fondness and grief warring with each other. “And now my little brother has sacrificed so that you could return to us. I am sorry that he took the choice away from you, but I will not punish you for this.”
“Please,” Toivo said, begging now. He did not know why her words were not enough. Or perhaps he did. Every part of him ached, and not just from the cuts and slashes and burns he had received in Xocrium. He missed Ohtli, missed him so much it hurt. They had never been parted for long before. Several times now, he caught himself looking for him, waiting for him to burst into his room and tell him about some absurd thing he had done.
He wanted it, needed it to be his fault. Because the thought that he could have lost his Ohtli despite being wholly innocent felt worse than a brand of fire to the stomach.
Tuonetar raised a hand. “I have spoken. These theatrics are unlike you, Toivo. Now, please; return to your doctors. Before you start bleeding on my floors.” She tilted her head at him and added, “perhaps you ought to think about what gifts you still have for us. There are people who need you, you know.”