Chapter 62: The Crown Princess Pt. 13
It takes Serafina’s brain an absurdly long time to catch up with what just happened. But then to be fair… it doesn’t make sense. Not one lick of it. One moment she’s standing tall, staring down at the Princess. She’s positively looming over the girl, having just decided practically in that moment that Elsenthia will never be Queen of the Holy Empire.
Truly, it was something even Serafina didn’t know she was going to do… but in the end, it’d made sense hadn’t it? Marcus should be King. That much was never in dispute. But it had become abundantly obvious from the way Elsenthia removed her mother from the board that she was not fit to be his Queen. And Serafina certainly wasn’t going to allow Elsenthia to be the dominant one in their relationship.
No… this was for the best. Marcus would return to her, and together they would make sure he killed the Dark Lord. Then, Serafina would announce his coronation. The end of the Pact between the Royal Family and the High Elves, sure… but also the beginning of something new. Something incredible, something amazing. Marcus would be the Destined Hero and the King alike, and with Serafina’s assistance, no one would ever dispute his authority or power.
Removing Elsenthia from the equation until Marcus was ready to decide what he wanted to do with the half-elf had just made sense. And so Serafina had given the order, trusting that her Shadow, her ever-present agent, would move to obey.
… So then, why was Serafina the one suddenly wearing one of the Church’s Subjugation Collars around her neck? Why was she the one standing there with a blade point pressed against the underside of her chin? Belatedly, the Holy Pope tries to call upon the abilities of her Job, the immense power that her talent gave her. She tries to call upon the Light to defend herself… and gets nothing.
That shouldn’t be possible. The Subjugation Collars had failsafes. Some called them a flaw. You could only put one on someone who agreed to it. Otherwise, they didn’t work. You had to consent to having one put on you, to having your freedoms restricted. And yet… and yet, Serafina had not consented, but at the same time, her power was lost to her.
The collar had been modified. That was the only reasonable explanation. A modified Subjugation Collar, trapping her in this moment. And her Shadow… her most trusted agent, holding a blade to her throat. Even as she comes to the realization about the collar, she still doesn’t understand. It doesn’t make any sense.
“… You should have asked more questions, your Holiness. I’m beginning to suspect that’s a flaw of yours. You don’t seem to always think things through.”
The sound of Elsenthia’s chair pushing backwards in the silence that’s fallen over the room draws Serafina’s eyes towards the Crown Princess. At long last, the half-elven woman stands. At the same time, Serafina finds herself forced backwards, and pushed back down into her chair. With her Shadow’s blade still nearby, she doesn’t dare try and move. Her hands might be unbound, but the collar around her neck is sealed shut and not coming off with just her measly physical strength.
Instead, she clutches at the arms of her chair, fighting the urge to tremble as Elsenthia creeps ever closer, peering at her almost… curiously. As though she’s intrigued by the idea of what Serafina would look like without her power. As though she’s studying Serafina’s face when all of her confidence has been wiped away. This ignorant, irritating child-!
“You never thought to ask yourself… who told me how to contact the High Elves? Who helped me get everything I needed in order so I could take down both the Queen of the Holy Empire… and the Holy Pope at the same exact time.”
Serafina’s breath hitches at that. Her Shadow?! How could she have ever even suspected her? Her most trusted agent had been with her for a decade at this point! She had served Serafina loyally in ALL things. She was the only one that the Holy Pope had been able to rely on for quite some time! And she betrayed her? Here? For what? For this… this girl?!”
“You underestimated me, your Holiness. You thought me just a brash, foolhardy child playing at politics. And to your credit, maybe I was. But I’ve always been a quick learner. And I’ve had a couple of real masters to learn at the feet of, these past few months.”
Nothing the Crown Princess has said is a lie. Serafina wishes it weren’t so, but every word out of Elsenthia’s mouth has been the truth. Bristling, the red head tries to find her voice. She despises the look that Elsenthia is giving her. It’s bordering on pitying, and that pisses her off like nothing else.
“You… you still can’t just do away with me, Princess. You’ll still need me for the coronation. Nothing I said before has changed. No one, not even the meeker members of the clergy and Nobility that we’ve left alive in the wake of our cleansings, will accept your rule if you lock me up and try to seize power. You are a fool if you think you don’t need to work with me, Princess.”
Elsenthia stares at her for a moment, the Crown Princess’ expression becoming unreadable. She pauses and then hums in the back of her throat before finally a smile drifts across her face.
“You’re right, of course. For my rule to be accepted, I will need to be coronated by you, the Holy Pope of the Church. It’s not how it was in ancient times, of course. In fact, when the Holy Empire was first established, the Church didn’t even exist yet. Curious how you and your institution managed to worm your way into every facet of our Empire over time. Like a parasite. Like a virus.”
Serafina bristles even more at that. She grits her teeth, glaring at Elsenthia as the half-elf speaks. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. The Church had been a necessity. Serafina has access to the same histories as Elsenthia has apparently been exposed to, of course. The history that isn’t available to the public, or even most of the Church and Nobility. The true nature of their world is one that would break weaker hearts and send lesser minds spiraling.
She hadn’t broken. She hadn’t spiraled. She’d done her level best to build a world where Marcus could thrive. And certainly, she’d made mistakes along the way. She’d allowed a rot to build within the foundations of her Church while she was distracted looking after Marcus. The Cardinals and Bishops who sought to usurp her had used Marcus as her weak point, keeping her preoccupied with defending him from the constant calls for his death as they moved in the shadows beneath her notice.
Though… now she began to wonder just how much they managed to successfully move beneath her notice, and how much it was that her own Shadow had kept from her. Looking back, Serafina was beginning to realize with the benefit of hindsight just how… dependent she’d become on her most trusted agent over the years. Just how long had the other woman planned on betraying her?
Still, this could all be salvaged. Elsenthia’s words might be acrimonious, but she’d agreed that Serafina was necessary in the here and now. That was a start.
“Ancient History is Ancient History, Princess. The fact is, you WILL need my blessing if you wish to become Queen. We can discuss how that might look… but you will have to start by removing this collar or else I’m afraid there can be no negotiations between us.”
Elsenthia just smiles and Serafina’s eyes narrow at how… unconcerned the Crown Princess looks.
“You continue to misunderstand, your Holiness. It’s true that I need to be coronated by the Holy Pope of the Church. But that doesn’t mean I have to be coronated by you specifically.”
Eyes going from narrow to wide in a moment, Serafina scoffs at Elsenthia’s naivety.
“If you think to replace me as the Holy Pope, think again! There’s no one left in the Church who could fill my shoes! More than that, there’s no one who would allow an outsider, even from the Royal Family, to make such a decision! You… you-!”
She’s building up a full head of steam… when her Shadow slowly comes into field of view. At first, Serafina pays her no mind, focused on Elsenthia’s face, on making the Crown Princess understand how utterly foolish disposing of her would be. Because she recognizes now what’s on the line here. Her life. And normally, Serafina would not care overly much about dying… but Marcus still has need of her. She can’t die here. She refuses.
Unfortunately, replacing her with one of the Church’s remaining clergy is not actually what Elsenthia is talking about. Serafina finally cannot help but look at her Shadow… and she cuts off mid-sentence, eyes widening even more as she takes in her own face. The Shadow steps out, wearing Serafina’s exact features, match for match. She looks at Serafina with a soft, condescending smile… one that Serafina is almost certain has crossed her own face hundreds of times over the years.
When her Shadow speaks, it’s with Serafina’s voice. The woman has stolen even her voice from her!
“The Crown Princess will be coronated by the Holy Pope. While it is a shame that her mother has been recalled to the Higher Plane by the High Elves… this is also an opportunity. I, Pope Serafina of the Church of the Most Holy Light recognize in Elsenthia Seradina Leliana, the future of our Empire. She will be Queen… and the Destined Hero will stand beside her as King.”
Its… its exactly as Serafina would have said it if she were conversing with a gathering of the clergy. Or even the Nobility. She would not request. She would not ask. She would say it as a statement of fact that would brook no argument. And with the… removal of all rebellious and defiant elements over these last few months, there would be no argument either.
“I… I…”
They couldn’t do this! They couldn’t just… replace her! Except, what was Serafina to do? With the modified Subjugation Collar around her neck, she was helpless. Especially against a Knight and one as capable of her Shadow. Unbidden… a whimper leaves the Holy Pope’s throat.
It’s then that Elsenthia turns and begins to walk away. Not before throwing some parting words over her shoulder however.
“Thank you for your service, your Holiness. But Marcus and I will take it from here.”
“N-No! No! You need me, Elsenthia! You and Marcus both need me! You can’t just… this isn’t how it works! Elsenthia! ELSENTHIA!”
But her words fall on deaf ears and the half-elf is gone a moment later. The sound of the door closing behind her leaves a dark pit filling the bottom of Serafina’s stomach. She looks to her Shadow… now her would-be Jailor. Her own face stares back at her, the other woman still mimicking her most easily.
In that moment, Serafina comes to a decision. Namely, she decides that this betrayal was NOT a long time coming. She decides that something Elsenthia did or said while they were on their own little adventure to the Northern Territories must have swayed her. Because… because if that was the case, then surely her Shadow’s convictions could be swayed back. They couldn’t be that unwavering yet. They just couldn’t.
“Please…”
Looking into her own eyes is disconcerting, but knowing they actually belong to the woman that she’s trusted more than anyone else in the last decade is even more so, especially in light of this betrayal. Even still, Serafina HAS to try.
“Please… whatever the girl has told you, whatever she said to convince you… she’s just a child. She’s an idealist. You and I both know the world doesn’t work the way Elsenthia wants it to work. More than anyone, you should recognize that this world is not a kind one. Without me, Elsenthia will fail. Marcus will fail. They NEED me.”
A flicker of amusement spreads across her own face as the Shadow steps forward and places her hands over Serafina’s hands, looming over her in the chair.
“Me of all people, huh? But what if idealism sounds appealing to me, after all the things you’ve had me do, your Holiness. What if I want to believe in the Princess’ world of kindness?”
Serafina grits her teeth.
“Even still… even still, we cannot be reduced to infighting like this! Marcus still needs to be found! The Dark Lord will show themselves sooner or later and we MUST be ready. We cannot afford to be divided when the Dark Lord finally makes their move. If… if they’re allowed to get their hands on Marcus, all will be lost! The lands will NEVER recover!”
There’s a pause, and then her Shadow tilts her head to the side and lets out a short half-scoff, half-laugh.
“Like all was lost two decades ago? When the last Dark Lord got HER hooks into the previous Destined Hero. Were Gral-Ra and Caleb the reason that all was lost then? That the lands have not recovered in the twenty years since? Or was that the fault of the Church and their assassins?”
Serafina stares with wide eyes at her own face, the guilt welling up inside of her. Her mouth opens and closes but no sound comes out. This is her greatest shame, tossed her way by someone using her voice. It doesn’t matter that she knows it’s her Shadow. She… she will ALWAYS blame herself for Caleb’s death.
Before she can do much beyond choke on her own spit in wide-eyed silence, her Shadow pulls back and lets out a positively dark chuckle.
“Ah, but I’m allowing you to labor under a misunderstanding, your Holiness. You think the Crown Princess swayed me from your side. Weren’t you listening? I’m the one who swayed her. After all…”
Before Serafina’s eyes, her visage melts away. However, not to reveal the nondescript, unassuming human face that Serafina has known as her Shadow’s all these years. No… the other woman reveals what Serafina rapidly realizes is her TRUE face in this moment. Serafina’s red hair is swiftly replaced by purple locks, among which a pair of curved demonic horns are revealed. Her skin, which had been pale and freckled, is replaced by a deep, rich violet. And finally, Serafina’s eyes are replaced by a bright, demonic yellow.
The Shadow’s face curls into a wide, wicked smile as her teeth elongate into shards capable of taking a chunk out of someone’s flesh. The demon woman, for that is what she truly is, a full-grown, matured demoness… chuckles once more before finishing her previous statement.
“… All that I’ve done and all that I will ever do… is for the sake of the Dark Lord.”
Serafina is not one prone to fits or large displays of emotion. Usually. Which is why it should be rather telling when the Holy Pope of the Church, collared and helpless and trapped in the room with a demon who has been masquerading as her closest ally for ten long years… throws her head back and screams.
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