Who Invited Her

*Lady Funda*

Funda was on the verge of exploding, rage surging through her veins. It felt miraculous that she had managed to contain herself during their return to their part of the palace. The click of the study door was an assault on her nerves. Her heart pounded in her chest, causing her to twitch and fidget. She was torn between picking something up, throwing it, or simply screaming. 

She was a bundle of nervous energy waiting for release, which came when the door opened to reveal the two. Her vermilion eyes fixed on the boy immediately. Her perfect target.

"You—" she hissed whipping around with her fangs bared. The boy was walking alongside her husband. The young boy recoiled at her piercing voice, but sensing danger, he quickly ducked down behind a potted plant, drawing his arms and legs close to avoid her grasp or blows, let alone being dragged away.

But that just fueled her anger even more, and she clenched her jaw in frustration. She was already on edge just seeing him here with everything going on. But now, her damn stupid husband was toting that boy around too? 

Like a pet! 

Just seeing him made her want to scream.

She couldn't hold back the bite in her tone as she whipped her head so fast at him that her hair fell out of her updo. "The hell are you thinking about having that bastard in here!? " 

Charles flinched on instinct, moving to raise his palms in defense. His beady little eyes were frightened, and he looked back at her.

"He was just- I need help with the." His voice shook.

Help!?  Funda could almost bark out a laugh. How she could have used such help a moment ago? When she was suddenly face to face with Queen Hildenberg, herself?!

"Of all the times you had to be in your damn study."

 His watery gaze darted to the floor. "I was just doing the book keeping again and–"

"Of course you were," When wasn't he playing with money? 

"Just forget it." She dismissed with a breath, not wanting to hear anymore. Not even wanting to think about it. 

Her eyes flicked back to the pot to see him peering through the leaves. Watching her as if she was dangerous. 

Perhaps she was. With all the anger she felt, there was definitely something she could do right now. But he seemed to sense that as well. The boy huddled even smaller behind the leaves.

Clever was all she thought when she saw the boy. He knew better than to be her way.

She sighed again. It didn't matter what the boy was doing; she disliked seeing or thinking about him. Ignoring him was easier, and she did just that.

She turned away from the boy to focus on the real problems. Her niece and the queen were somewhere inside The thought alone unsettled her. 

They looked close. Even friendly…which was not good at all for them.

We already have problems with her suitors, and now this? Her heart squeezed tightly in her chest. Her mouth running dry.

Now she is close with the queen, too? This was more than enough to stress her out again. 

She sank onto the camelback sofa with a soft sigh. "Oh, I feel faint." Yet as her body fell into the white cushions, her mind whirled with unease. She straightened up to shoot an irritated look at Charles.

"Why the hell is Her Majesty here, Husband!?" She snapped to elicit another twitch from him, but this time his wiry brows furrowed. She could only yell at him for so long before his irritation took over, his reasoning outpacing her theatrics. 

"You sent the invitations; you should know," He returned, his voice firm and logical, as if reason was his shield against her. "Don't ask me. I had no hand in it. I only handle money."

. He was right. But–Funda flinched

"Yes, I, um, I mean-" she stammered. "I meant to say I did, but-" Was it her fault now? Speaking felt suddenly overwhelming. 

"Don't yell at me, Charles," Funda exclaimed, closing her eyes as her head whirled, wholly frayed. Her nerves were on edge, and tears were brimming in her eyes. She felt like crying.

Feeling the gentle touch of a hand, she looked up to see her son Mykhol at her side, his sympathetic vermillion eyes meeting hers before he turned to search for his father.

"What Mother is trying to say," Mykhol gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze before letting go, "is that we didn't anticipate her actually coming."

"Mykhol, my dear boy." Funda relaxed her shoulders at his words and looked up at him with the warmth of a mother. He was defending her. Naturally, he would. Her wonderful son. 

So intelligent. So caring. She took his hand in hers, finding comfort in the familiar touch once more.

"Yes, yes, Exactly." She kissed it, taking in his gentle smell of tobacco and pepper–a slight whiff of her beloved boy. Again, finding herself calm further. She could think more clearly now. Thanks to him. Things were becoming clearer.

She returned, looking from him back to Charles. "How could we not invite her?" It was customary to invite all the nobles and majesties to a coronation. It was tradition. 

Tradition, yes, but at the same time–

"I didn't expect her to, anyway," she defended, waving her other hand in the air. "We haven't seen a giant in Nochten since Parsul was alive." 

Among the other two, Funda reminisced about those days and the strange friendship they had. Her sister, Queen Bratha, Queen Belinda, and–

That was a long time ago, but now there's no point in dwelling on it. Funda clicked her rings again, shattering the memory as Charles adjusted his glasses.

"Yes, it has been some time, hasn't it?" He agreed but just as he did, his brows furrowed. "So then what do we-"

"Nothing."Mykhol cut over. He let go of her to push his hands into his tunic. "We are going to do nothing."

Both his parents dropped their jaws after him. 

"Nothing!?" Funda nearly screeched as Charles blinked behind his thick glasses. He wanted them to do nothing?

No, that was wrong. And she was already shaking her head.

"Do you not see the situation?" She clenched her tunic. 

Charles took her other side, reaching his hand for hers. Funda immediately took it to support her. His touch was almost as effective as her son's in calming her.

He spoke sternly. "Her Majesty is here to witness her coronation." He glanced down at her and then back at Mykhol, confusion and worry spreading across his round face. "It practically says she gives her support."

Support? Funda suddenly felt a surge of panic wash over her again, causing her blood to rush to her ears.

"No, this is going to interfere with our plans. We already have an issue with King Alexander again; now Her Majesty is showing interest?!" She gripped her husband's hand, knuckles white. Charles winced, stiffening but didn't pull away 

 "How could things get worse."Funda swallowed.

They couldn't be. She glanced back at Charles, noticing his pained expression, but he only nodded. He was just as worried. 

"Her Empress wasn't supposed to have allies- not powerful ones at least." This was a horrible development. How were we going to fix it? What could they do? 

"We will have to sabotage the relationship, or something." Charles blinked, attempting to think logically. His gaze returned to Mykhol. "What do you think, son? Is there anything we can do?"

Mykhol just scuffed, clicking his tongue.

"You two are prone to panicking too much." His voice was absurdly calm. Again, the two just stared after him, stunned. How could he still be so composed with everything going on?

Funda swallowed back a dry gulp, confused. "Mykhol?" She breathed, looking at Charles before returning. "This is serious—we need to figure it out."

"It's not all that bad," Mykhol said again, with an air of collection that seemed entirely amiss for both parents. He moved to rake back his hair with his claws. Graceful and unbothered.

"I mean, let's look at it another way," he argued thoughtfully, adjusting a golden earring with languid movements as if it were nothing. "Queen Hildenberg is showing support for our new Empress."

"But Mykhol, that's bad-" Funda choked against the lump in her throat, feeling lost by his aloof attitude. She stole another glance to Charles, but he seemed none the wiser. His brows rose as his beady eyes just watched his son, as if seeing someone new.

Mykhol, however, didn't seem bothered at all. He released his earring to turn. His footsteps slowed and eased as he approached his father's desk. It appeared he was studying a book left open before glancing back at them.

"Imagine if they did?" He trailed his fingers to the map on the desk, tapping the spot where they met, lips pursed in a smirk.

 "Almony, who has famously remained neutral to everyone but their affairs, is now suddenly supporting us. " 

He tapped the map again. The sound of paper crinkling under his nail. Funda looked after him for a moment, then went to the map. The spot he was touching. Almony and Nochten sat beside each other save for the line of mountains that cut between them. It was the only border they had. Otherwise, the two would spill over each other. 

Making it harder to divide who had what resource and their riches–

Almonies riches! Funda gasped with realization before darting her eyes up to see Mykhol grinning.

"I see mother understands me." Mykhol laughed gently before returning to his father. "And you Father? Do you get it? What does it mean if the country of Almony supported us? What would that mean?"

"I'm afraid I don't quite–" Charles began with a pout, not getting it at first until he did. His eyes widened again with recognition.

"You mean they'll support us financially." And his face twisted into a knowing grin. 

Mykhol chuckled, as his fingers danced across the map once more. Clicking and scratching as he moved.

"Think of all that money suddenly coming our way–Almonies money."

"All that unaccounted for funds." His father chuckled back, his tone deep and robust. His eyes glinted behind his glasses as Funda relaxed her grip, suddenly feeling no longer panicked but amused.

"How easy it would be for some of that to slip back into our accounts." She purred, already seeing it now. The new dresses she would wear. Gold rings, gemmed necklaces. It was all too delicious. 

Funda clicked her rings again, hearing the soft metallic sound. More pretty things for her. And all thanks too, Funda furrowed a brow then.

"But how can you be sure?" Funda straightened "How do we know Almony will help us?"

Mykhol widened his smile. "Because I know something else." 

"And that is?" She watched his hand stretched to cover the map. His claws lightly digging into the paper.

"Well, by the oldest way, Of course." 

He leaned against the desk to see if either parent could guess what he meant first. Funda pressed her lips as Charles went quiet.

"Marriage?" He piped up first, which Funda immediately reeled her head.

"Marriage—wait, Mykhol, you can't be serious." Her eyes widened in disbelief at the thought. Mykhol, on the other hand, recoiled, scrunching his nose in disgust.

 "Gods, absolutely not," he replied sharply, his expression reflecting his revulsion. "I could never be with such a creature."

"Oh, Thank god," Aunt Funda heaved a sigh.

It's already bad enough to have a bastard child, but half-giant would just- 

"Then who?" She peered up, racking her brain before Mykhol tapped his throat to jog her memory.

"Didn't you notice the opal broach on her majesty?" 

"That, yes, but-" Funda could recollect it. But barely; the giant didn't speak to her. It didn't seem like she even wanted to. Her interest was more in Ana than anything else.

"But what does that mean?" It was a broach. Nothing more than–Funda's jaw caught at the new idea.

"Whose broach is that she's wearing?" 

Mykhol only grinned.

"I'd say something Queen Belinda would wear."

"Queen Belinda?" Funda sat straighter as her husband shifted on his feet. 

"You mean, she's engaged to the prince?" But just as quickly, she shook her head. "But I haven't heard any gossip about a potential match."

Mykhol simply tsked. "Queen Belinda is a clever woman," he remarked with certainty. "I would bet she's likely planning something already." 

"But Mykhol," His father still held a note of doubt in his voice."Won't that mean Dawny will grow in power?"

"Yes, they could rival us-" Funda reached for her throat. "And if Dawny already supports her Empress then–"

"Exactly," Mykhol left the desk to return to his parents. He knelt to take both of their hands. His eyes met theirs in turn.

"Hildenberg practically adores Ana, already. So, I can say with certainty that she'll support us." Mykhol squeezed both their hands before standing up. "As long as Ana is around, that is."

"But Mykhol," Both parents looked at each other in confusion. "She won't be. Once the marriage is set, Empress Anastasia is supposed to be–"

"Does she, though?" Mykhol mused, turning halfway from them, his gaze lingering on the door.

A strange, unfamiliar look crossed his face, his gaze distant, as if lost in thought. His eyes were distant, almost softened in a way Funda couldn't place. Couldn't recognize.

Something about it unsettled her.

"Mykhol?" She prompted, hoping he would blink and shake off whatever had just come over him.

But that strange softness remained. No, not just softness—hunger.

For the first time, Mykhol hesitated. He looked almost uncertain, as if he were considering something he shouldn't. As if he were weighing something precious in his mind.

Then, quietly, almost reverently, he spoke.

 "I was thinking…maybe we don't need to go that far. That it might be good to keep her."

"Keep her!?"She almost laughed, but something about the way he said it made the sound catch in her throat.

She crossed her legs instead, regaining her composure. "But Mykhol, our plan from the beginning was to get rid of her so you can take the throne." Her words were slow, deliberate, as if reminding him of something he had simply forgotten. "How can you do that if she is still around?"

"Don't be silly–" But then she saw it. That look.

It flickered across his face like a shadow, brief but unmistakable. A shift, a hesitation, something dark in his expression, yet soft around the edges, like something cherished..

"Would it be all that bad?" Mykhol murmured, and this time, his tone was different. It wasn't calculated, wasn't about power or politics. There was something else beneath it—something that made Funda's stomach twist. Something she did not want to name.

"It would be an easier transition if she were still around," he continued, voice thoughtful, like he was reasoning with himself more than with her. "She is Her Empress's daughter, after all. People wouldn't resist as much."

Funda went still. 

"But she's mixed–human blood runs through her veins, Mykhol. It's ridiculous." Their children would be the same. More of that ugly silver hair. 

She expected him to agree, to scoff, to reassure her that he hadn't lost sight of what truly mattered. That this was still about their victory, their power.

But he wasn't even looking at her anymore. Instead, his gaze flickered to the pot. Focused on Bruno.

And then he smiled.

Not the cold, knowing smirk of strategy. Not the cruel satisfaction of a plan falling into place.

No—this smile was softer. Slower. Possessive in a way that made Funda's spine lock straight.

"Motherhood suits her," he said, almost to himself. His fingers flexed at his sides. "A good quality for any wife."

Funda felt a chill race through her, creeping up the back of her neck.

"Mykhol?"

He didn't answer right away. His expression remained thoughtful, almost wistful.

"It's…a very good quality." He murmured. More to himself than to her.

Something in his voice made Funda's stomach twist.

It's almost as if he- but she didn't dare say it out loud. Mykhol was her son. She knew him. She had raised him, molded him, shaped him into the perfect heir. He would never—

He couldn't. There was simply no way.

The idea was absurd. It was laughable.

Ana was nothing more than the disgusting mistake of her sisters. Her hair was revolting, her blood tainted. No one in their right mind would ever—

No. No, she was imagining things. She had to be. Because if she wasn't… if she was right about this, then everything they had worked for, everything they had planned—

No, Mykhol would never commit such an error. This must have been intentional. It had to be 

The plan remained intact. They would reclaim what rightfully belonged to them—the throne, the power, and the glory—all of which her sister had recklessly discarded by fleeing. And all of which was once again stolen by her niece's return.

No, they would get it all back and more.

He's just…Funda swallowed her doubts, forcing herself to nod.

No, she would never doubt him. She couldn't afford to.