Of Queens and Mothers

As Nathan was led to the queen's chamber, he wondered if he had done anything that might potentially get him in trouble.

Yes. Yes, he had. Shit.

The maid ushered him into a room and shut the door behind him. The room was dimly lit, but even in the darkness, Nathan could figure out its size. It was even bigger than his own room. He hadn't thought that was possible. Did it even qualify as a room anymore? It might as well be a house in itself.

In the farthest left corner of the room sat a woman with her back turned. She was hunched over, hands moving cleverly over a piece of fabric. Even from a distance, she looked old— graceful, but aged, like a painting meticulously preserved but unable to hide the passage of time.

After a brief moment of debate, Nathan decided that she probably wasn't aware of his presence yet, and he should say something. But what? A greeting? How informal was he allowed to get? She was the queen, but she was also his original host's mother, wasn't she?

At the end, he settled for a simple, "Good evening." He briefly debated whether or not to add an honorific, then discarded the idea.

The queen straightened up on hearing his voice, turning around in her chair to face him. Her face was settled into a perfectly blank mask perfected by decades of practice. That unnerved Nathan a little. People usually didn't try to smooth their expressions like that. Was she angry?

"Come here," the queen said, gesturing at a chair in front of her. Nathan obeyed. He crossed the room and sat down across her. Up close, he noticed that she had been weaving a tapestry. He couldn't quite make out the details in the darkness, though.

"You're in trouble again," the queen said blankly.

Again, she had said. Getting in trouble was a normal thing for him, apparently. "I'm sorry."

The queen's blank mask finally broke as she closed her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. "It has been one week, Damien."

Nathan blinked. One week, huh. So it hadn't been the first day of school today like he'd assumed. Oh, well. It didn't really make a difference.

The queen looked at him again. "Damien...you promised you would try this year."

Untrue. The person who made that promise was dead. Literally. Nathan had no obligation to hold it up in his place.

The queen hesitated for a moment before reaching forward and gently placing her hand on Nathan's shoulder. "Is...is this about your eyes again?"

His eyes. That was something he'd never considered a problem before. Was something wrong with them? Was he supposed to be blind, or something? He could see perfectly fine, though.

The queen carried on, "I have told you this before, and I will tell you this again. You are not an illegitimate child. Is that understood?"

Nathan nodded, unsure where this was headed. Hadn't she just been talking about his eyes?

"There can be no doubt that you are your father's son. You look just like he did when he was younger." The queen's eyes drifted towards something behind her. Nathan followed her gaze and found a portrait. The man in the portrait looked regal, a sword in his hand and a cape billowing behind him. The dead king, Nathan assumed. Now he knew where the pigeon shit hair came from.

"I carried you in my womb for nine months. I gave birth to you. I held you in my arms when you were born and named you Damien. And that is how I know that you are my son. You always have been, and you always will be."

Nathan stared at her. Her eyes, full of unspoken words. Her voice, full of conviction.

...He shouldn't be here. The queen was talking to her son, not Nathan.A son who had presumably been bullied for being an "illegitimate child". A son who needed to hear these words. This speech wasn't meant for Nathan, who had barely been here for two days, to whom it really didn't matter what people said about him.

The queen was looking at him like she thought her speech would get through to him. Like she knew his struggles and wanted to help. Like she knew him.

Nathan wanted to leave. He wanted so badly to leave. This conversation seemed private. He shouldn't be the one hearing it. But the one who should be hearing it was no longer here.

He owed it to the original Damien to listen. So he did.

"It doesn't matter that your eyes are neither mine, nor your father's. Genes work in the strangest ways. You might have inherited your eyes from any of your ancestors."

Oh. That's what the eye thing was about.

Nathan almost flinched as the queen leaned forward and placed one hand on his cheek. Her hands were surprisingly rough. From this distance, Nathan could make out the streaks of silver that peeked through her dark hair. Sets of laugh lines and frown lines were etched onto her face. Nathan wondered how one person could have so much to laugh and frown about. Then he met her eyes, and knew.

Nathan could see the worry in her eyes, the fatigue in the set of her jaw, the weight on her shoulders. It couldn't have been easy running a kingdom without her husband, even if her eldest son had taken the throne now. Or being a mother to eight children. But, somehow, she bore it. And she bore it gracefully.

"In fact," the queen said softly, "I distinctly remember your great-grandmother's eyes. They were green, too, just like yours. Green and bright and intelligent. She was a formidable woman, never letting anything bring her down. I always thought of her as a source of strength."

Nathan stayed quiet.

"Damien." A melancholic smile stretched over the queen's lips. "You are strong. I believe that, even if you don't. Alright?"

"...Alright."

The queen nodded and leaned back, her hands settling back on her lap. "That said, though, we must take measures if those hooligans don't stop harassing you."

"No one's harassing me," Nathan said quickly, "I'm fine. Really."

The queen raised an eyebrow. "Why did you skip class today, then?"

Nathan usually didn't mind saying the truth, but he didn't want to tell her that he'd just been bored. He didn't want to see her disappointment. Which was weird, because since when did he care about disappointing someone else's mom?

(It was a different matter, of course, that if he narrowed his eyes, he could almost see his own mother in her. The same steady grace. The same tired expression. The same barely-hidden hope that maybe someday, Nathan would be fine.)

Taking his silence to mean something else entirely, the queen narrowed her eyes. "Listen. If anyone ever implies that you're not my son again, you are free to tell them that they've just insulted their queen's chastity, and as such are punishable by law for treason."

Woah, what the hell? "For something this small?"

The queen shook her head. "Don't be silly. They won't really be punished. They are but teenagers spouting nonsense. But the threat should be enough to keep them in check."

"I— Okay, that's fair."

The queen smiled. "That's all I had to say. You may leave now."

Nathan nodded and got up as the queen resumed her weaving. He'd almost made it out of the room when the queen spoke again.

"Damien?"

Nathan paused. "Yes?"

"Do try to stay out of trouble."

Nathan turned to look at her again and found her staring straight at him.

"Please? For me?"

"...Okay."

"Okay, mother," the queen insisted.

The word felt strange on his tongue. Too easy, too automatic. Heavy, in a way it wasn't supposed to be. She wasn't his mother. It felt wrong to call her that, like he was dishonouring his own mother, somehow. But he said it anyway.

"Okay, mother."

He waited to see if she would say anything else. She didn't. Nathan opened the door and left.

He almost immediately bumped into Kathryn, who was very clearly eavesdropping on him.

Kathryn stood up, flustered. Nathan raised an eyebrow.

"I found your praying mantis," Kathryn said, holding out Cantis.

"Get me away from her!" Cantis screeched, hopping onto Nathan's shoulder. "She held me so fucking tight, I thought I was going to die!"

"Calm down," Nathan told her before turning to Kathryn. "You were eavesdropping."

Kathryn looked guilty for a full two seconds before her face cleared up. "I was. I wanted to know why mother called for you."

"You could have asked."

"You never give me a straight answer."

Nathan shrugged.

"Damien." Kathryn frowned. "Is it true the bullying has started again?"

Nathan sighed. "No, it hasn't. I'm fine."

Kathryn narrowed her eyes. Nathan had never seen someone so small radiate so much menace before.

"I thought I'd taken care of it," she muttered to herself, "Should I have been threatened them some more?"

Some things clicked into place. "Hold on. Threaten? Is that the reason people have been avoiding me?"

"They're leaving you alone, you mean."

Well. That was one question answered.

"Don't look at me like that," Kathryn said, placing her hands on her hips. "I did what I had to, to protect you."

"You're younger than me."

"And scarier, as we've already established."

Nathan let out a huff of laughter. "You barely reach my shoulders."

"I'm growing!" Kathryn protested. "And I do reach your shoulders!"

Nathan placed a hand on her head. "I don't even have to reach up to do this."

"Oh, shove off. At least I have friends."

Nathan tilted his head. "Have you considered the possibility that maybe I don't want friends?"

"I have considered that possibility," Kathryn said matter-of-factly, "and I've come to the conclusion that it's just something you tell yourself to feel better about being alone."

"Harsh."

"True."

Nathan shrugged. He didn't have anything to add here.

After a beat of silence, Kathryn spoke up again. "Tell me if someone is being mean to you."

Nathan met her eyes. She looked serious. Determined. Like she was willing to do whatever it took to protect him.

Nathan averted his eyes and said, "I will."

Nathan was a liar.