Angelleen Tulopia-Harvest, queen of the Harvest kingdom, stared at her reflection with a frown. A hand carefully prodded her face, tracing deep-seated wrinkles and pressing down in places where her skin sagged. She had moved past the stage of lamenting her lost youth, and all the opportunities gone with it, but she wasn’t strong enough not to think of it. Not to dwell on it at the end of every day. Not to curse the ones responsible.

Arranged marriages between the royal family and the ducal houses were a tradition that stretched back generations. The Great War united humanity and in the wake of their near extinction, they were loathed to war with one another. Reluctant did not mean entirely against. Oaths and blood ties served to hold back rampant ambition so the most powerful families often intermingled. Not every generation, as the records salvaged from the old kingdoms warned of such, the royals of old having made many mistakes in pursuit of talented heirs.

The Rosefields were determined to marry one of their own to Sebastian. Almost rabid, like wolves circling a young deer separated from the herd. He was their ideal king. Not because of his firm hand when it came to policy, his fair judgments, or because of his respect for tradition. No. They wanted him because of his passivity.

During his father’s term, amid the Siege of Fortitude, the series of battles the crown waged in an attempt to eject the man-mutating horror, Aggrobobaleth, from the oldest city in Harvest, Sebastian, then the crown prince, was the first to suggest diplomatic measures.

Many had certainly thought about a peaceful solution. Good men fell by the hundreds to combat a creature who didn’t even exist in their realm. They could kill the creature down to its last host and do absolutely nothing to harm it. It wouldn’t even stop it from one day returning. However, no one was brave, or perhaps cowardly, enough to suggest retreat.

Humanity was forced from their homes once before. To be slaughtered and then forced to cede land to another race, especially one not native to their land, or even their world, touched sore spots. The previous king was ready to throw the whole of Harvest’s forces at the creature out of pure spite and he had the backing of the army.

The nobles were less enthused, as the whole “war” was a drain on the kingdom’s resources, something of more concern to them than the men and women throwing their lives away, but they didn’t dare utter a word of complaint lest they be labeled traitors to all of humanity.

Sebastian was perhaps the only person who could have spoken the suggestion to the king. His father almost struck him down in anger and very nearly stripped him of his position of crown prince, something that had his younger brother Syrius in a titter for a time, but, in the end, the previous king listened. He tried his son’s suggestion…and it worked.

The commoners were happy that they no longer had to send their sons to war, the nobles were happy with new trade agreements with the monster, and the royal family was at least content that the kingdom had accepted their decision. Sebastian’s reputation soared. He was not a hero, and perhaps denounced as a coward in the quietest corners of the kingdom, but he was known as a practical king, to phrase it kindly.

The unkind way to phrase it was that if Sebastian was backed into a corner, he would yield. He would seek peace rather than raze his enemies’ home. He was…soft. And soft things could be molded.

Of course, none of this had been a concern to the young Angelleen. She was an average noblewoman. She read celebrated literature, walked the many gardens of Rosentheim with her friends, and practiced the flute by her window. Her biggest concern back then was that her magic tutors would insist on physical training. She couldn’t bear the thought of rolling in the dirt and blemishing her flawless honey skin.

As a Tulopia, a branch family of the Rosefields, and a daughter, she thought she had few if any obligations to the family. One of the rare noble scions with the freedom to find love. She had eagerly awaited the day she became an adult and could officially accept offers of courtship without causing a great scandal.

No one was more surprised than she when, on her sixteenth birthday, she was engaged to the crown prince. After surprise came elation. The greatest dreams she had of romance was marrying a handsome, kind man who also enjoyed the gardens of the city as much as she did.

That silly dream was blown away. She was to marry a prince. One day, she would be queen and she would help guide the kingdom. Her previous hopes for her eventual children were for them to grow up happy, healthy, and talented in at least one area to bring renown to the family.

Renown? Her son would be king.

Angelleen was beyond ecstatic. Her friends, other noblewomen, were green with envy. The young noblemen took second glances at her, their gazes lingering like they never had before as they wondered what about her had attracted the eye of the future king.

Her father was kind to her. He had never been overly harsh but now he catered to her whims as much as the servants. Building goodwill in preparation for the day when she would wield vastly more authority than him. That had particularly excited her young self. What child didn’t dream of turning the tables on their parents?

Her marriage was anything but the fantasy she envisioned. She knew it wouldn’t be perfect. Many of her female relatives had worked to bludgeon her expectations to size with the weight of duty. Her male relatives had cautioned her as to the expectations that would be placed on her shoulders, both by them and the rest of the kingdom. Angelleen could have accepted that much, so long as in return she got the good sides of being queen.

Only to find there were no good sides to being queen. Yes, the royal family was wealthy, not that it mattered when anything she could ever want was usually given in the form of a gift. She had respect. People knelt before her every day. She lived in a palace, every little girl’s dream. But that was all she was given and the price was too much.

She didn’t have Sebastian. They were married but in name only. Angelleen wanted to curse the maiden that had blushed as she welcomed him into their wedding bed. He had been gentle and attentive then as he was now. The man was no brute as she’d heard in the worse of the noble ladies’ tales before her journey to Summer Spire. However, courteous was the only way she’d describe him. Certainly not kind. Or loving. Or even willing.

She thought she would share in the glory of leading the kingdom but there was no glory to be had. Sebastian may as well be the babysitter of dozens of spiteful children. Forget making any changes. He’d wanted to open a school of magic in the capital, much like the Grand Hall, but there had been such immense pushback from the nobles, despite it being something that only helped the kingdom and couldn’t harm them in any conceivable way, that the poor king eventually gave up on the idea.

The reason for their refusal to cooperate? He hadn’t done the secret dealing done outside of the advisory meetings and open court. He refused to pay bribes, release incarcerated family members, or hand out free titles and land. Like children throwing tantrums after being told they couldn’t have the sweets they desired, the nobles turned against him. They always put aside their petty squabbles when it came to fighting the crown.

And Sebastian let them. Angelleen, as the queen, didn’t know how to help. They had chosen her quite well, as she’d never studied politics a day in her life.

Now, with over two decades experience and bitterness to temper her, she knew precisely how she’d handle them. Ruthlessly and decisively. Unlike her diplomatic husband, she’d simply order the royal knights to march and let loose the interrogators like hungry dogs. Passivity, she’d found, got one nowhere. Acceptance suffocated the soul. Better to draw blood and see which side caved first.

Not that her opinions mattered. She was a queen with no power. A girl from Rosentheim sent away to marry in the capital. She socialized the same as before but few people of importance sought her company or counsel. They had tried, in the beginning, but it became clear that she was not a player in the game, but a piece.

Perhaps now she could do more but her reputation as a useless figurehead had already been established. No one would trust her with their secrets or put their faith in her agendas. She was a glorified broodmare, nothing more.

A role she wasn’t entirely unhappy with. She thanked the saints for her children, as she would have certainly been driven mad by the sheer indifference of the palace without their bountiful love.

Her eager Dowager, the boy who wanted to be a hero. He was her first but she didn’t get to spend as much time with him as she would have liked. He was the first prince and Sebastian’s heir. His time belonged to his father, as a king was not made in a day.

Then came her angel, Selestia. Her daughter had saved her. Playing with her, buying her cute little dresses, reading to her. All of it was a balm to her tired heart. Selestia was a sweet but serious girl. Angelleen wished she’d been more willful. Perhaps then, she’d have fought harder to let the girl determine her own fate, but she had accepted her duty to the family and gone off to Rosentheim for marriage without complaint.

Then came Samuel. Her prince. Admittedly, she may have spoiled him a bit as his father was only concerned with his older brother. They both felt neglected and so they both doted on one another. Her second son hated the cold walls of the palace as much as she did but had far more freedom to escape. He never forgot her though, always bringing back gifts to brighten her mood, from paintings to jewelry to particularly good wine, her one vice.

Then came her third son, Bastian. Her failure. The poor boy idolized his father. That was his only sin. He wanted the king to see him, to spend time with him, to praise him. It was unfortunate that he had no outstanding traits worthy of such praise.

He lacked the coordination for marital arts, he was not the brightest child, and he had only the basic fire affinity. Sebastian paid little attention to his children outside of his heir and he had even less time for an untalented one.

His indifference did not go unnoticed. People began to whisper, their words malicious but not untrue. Bastian retreated further and further into himself.

Angelleen tried to help him. Many times, she coaxed him from his room to play with his older siblings but the whole time, he was despondent. Presently, she could admit that his refusal to cheer up had seemed like a rejection, like her own son was choosing Sebastian over her. It had aggravated her to no end. She was never unkind to the boy, she loved her son after all, but she stopped making attempts to pull him out of his room.

Eventually, Bastian learned that he had one advantage, money. If he used enough of it, people forgot he was the useless spare for a spare son, a hopeless fighter, and an untalented caster. Money made him important, which was all he wanted. So, he used it. Lots of it.

Then there was her fifth child. Her second daughter. Her treasure.