The Royal Palace, Vienna knew, was a cage built of gold and old resentments, varnished by the blood of the royal ancestors. Two months had passed since Queen Aeryn rode into the shadows, and every day in her absence felt like a slow, careful descent into a political arena where her every move was scrutinized. It was not visible but she was scared. Scared as hell; of her responsibilities, of her adaption to the taste of power and of her father.
Her father, Lord Vael, was a meticulous guard of this golden cage. He was true to Aeryn's command by the way; so he stood behind Vienna, teaching her the labyrinthine laws and whispered protocols of the Council, yet he could barely conceal the contemptuous instruction beneath his loyalty. His compliance was a mix of terrified obedience to Aeryn's magical threat and a deep, unexpected pride that his own blood wore the crown of regency, however temporarily.
He sat now at the head of the long oak table; a habit Vienna was still battling to break; his posture rigid, his gaze sharp and roaming in the room. The Council Chamber was stifling. It was the weekly session where the lords discussed the budget allocations for the Northern Territories, but the true topic was always the same: Aeryn's absence.
"...and therefore, my esteemed colleagues and high ministers," Lord Corvus droned, smoothing his silk doublet, "the necessity of increased expenditure for the Royal Guard is paramount. The rumors of the Queen's expedition, her 'army' of miscreants; they breed instability, that we all know. So I propose that we must project strength at home."
Vienna, seated beneath the heavy velvet canopy of the throne, felt the weight of their unspoken accusations. They didn't say it directly but what they were actually saying under the guise of pretty words was that, Aeryn is irresponsible. A woman cannot lead. They were using Aeryn's actions as a lever to pry open her own authority.
"The expenditure is excessive, Lord Corvus," Vienna stated, her voice quiet but steady. It was the voice of a student meticulously rehearsing a lesson, as if she was talking to herself. Corvus's head turned to her and then he snapped it back and was about to say something when Vienna started again, "The treasury cannot bear a thirty percent increase on standing forces simply to counter rumors. We have a famine brewing in the West that requires resources."
Lord Vael shifted, a barely perceptible motion that drew Vienna's eyes. It was a warning; a silent, familiar tug on her reins. Stay within the established talking points. Don't engage.
Corvus chuckled, then he started again with visible mockery. "With respect, Lady Regent, Queen Aeryn herself would prioritize the security of the capital." tell me ministers, "if am I wrong in anyway? If I am, please don't mind to correct me!"
Every head nodded in agreement with him. Even Vienna couldn't say anything in response. Corvus smiled and continued, "The Queen is gathering strength outside; we must ensure her seat is secure inside. The famine can be managed with existing local resources."
Vienna gripped the carved arms of the throne. Her father's lesson had been clear: during times of uncertainty, the Crown funds the military and lets the local lords manage 'regional issues' like hunger. It was the pragmatic, cynical diplomatic move to keep the court under his fists. But Vienna couldn't stop herself, despite the killing gaze of her father.
"The famine requires a direct tax deferment and the dispatch of royal grain reserves," Vienna insisted, discarding her prepared notes. Her heart hammered, but she remembered Aeryn's cold, confident gaze that morning, the subtle nod, the impossible belief. I believe you.
And here lord vael lost it, he couldn't let this daughter of his, ruin what he had heavly worked on, to gain the loyalties of the ministers and martials for his rule. Yes his rule. Until now, ministers were calling it vael's regency not vienna's and this was the defect that allowed vael to implement what he wanted in the guise of helping her daughter as a subordinate.
So,
Lord Vael slammed his hand lightly on the table, the noise echoing sharply in the tense chamber died down. "My lords and dear ministers, My daughter here speaks the wisdom of the treasury. And I know that we cannot cripple our national defense. However..." Vael turned to Vienna, his expression a practiced mask of measured disappointment. "We will, of course, release some local relief. A moderate measure, perhaps. But the Guard's allocation is a necessity. It is the Queen's safety, after all, that we protect. And that we must protect!"
Vael was expertly compromising, saving face for both of them, and pulling Vienna back into the safety of his control. Vienna knew the relief package he proposed would be negligible; just a gesture, not an answer at all.
Corvus nodded approvingly at Vael, effectively dismissing Vienna's original point. The councilors were ready to move on, ignoring the delicate princess's tantrums.
Vienna's mind flashed to the maid in Aeryn's chamber, her bright, watchful eyes, the steel hidden beneath the apron. She suddenly felt that sharp, silent warning directed not at her, but at the lords who believed she was a puppet.
"No," Vienna stood up, her voice now ringing with an unfamiliar clarity. Every head snapped toward her.
Lord Vael stared, his eyes flashing a fierce, immediate message, telling her to Stop. Now.
"My decision is final," Vienna continued, ignoring her father completely. Her hands no longer trembled. They were still and solid on the armrests. "The Royal Guard will receive no increase. Furthermore, the grain reserves from the Eastern granaries will be requisitioned and redirected immediately to the afflicted Western provinces. Lord Corvus, you will personally oversee the transfer and report to me daily on the distribution."
Corvus sputtered, rising halfway out of his seat. "Lady Regent! That is unprecedented! It leaves the capital… you should talk to your father…my lord..." he started, looking at lord vael.
"It leaves the capital secure enough, lord corvus!" Vienna cut him off, her gaze unwavering. "If we allow our people to starve while we hoard grain for an army that isn't here, the threat will not come from outside, but from the streets beneath our own walls. Queen Aeryn did not ride out to save a palace. She rode out to save a realm."
Lord Vael's face was pale, visibly in rapid, internal collapse. The blood drained from his cheeks. His lips were a thin, white line. This was not the compromise he taught her. This was defiance, that he never expected from a woman, his own daughter. He had successfully supported her as long as she was an obedient extension of his political will. Now, she was acting and this was no good.
He opened his mouth to speak; to overrule, to guide, to suppress; but for the first time, Lord Vael met his daughter's ignored eyes and saw not the ignored child he had cultivated, but a Regent forged in Aeryn's cold fire. He saw the potential for the terrifying retribution Aeryn had promised. He saw the very real possibility that, if he silenced her now, Aeryn would return and make him strangle himself with his own hands.
He closed his mouth.
Vienna watched her father's internal struggle; his pride warring with his terror; and a quiet, profound realization settled over her. The crown of regency was not a temporary burden; it was a weight of command. And she could bear it.
"The meeting is adjourned," Vienna announced.
Lord Vael bowed, a motion slow and stiff, but undeniably submissive. As the councilors filed out, she stopped corvus, "better not bring up family issues next time in the court lord corvus," crovus opened his mouth to say something but stunned into silence, he remained for a moment, looked at lord vael who was side eyeing his daughter, and then left.
"this is not the way to do things, Vienna," he finally muttered, his voice low and ragged.
Vienna met his gaze, unafraid. "Perhaps," she said softly.
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