All Evita could think was how Andreah had the look of a jesters son.
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"Oh Evita, It would be good of you to at least attempt to show interest in something other than your own needs," Andreah said.
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Her voice masked by the Qabaran Prince as he made his declarations of war and conquest before an auditorium of soldiers, clergymen, and priestesses. He was handsome with a short beard and wavy black hair, his voice was deep and booming, with an authority that made Evita's skin tingle.
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"What have I done now?"
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Evita had retained her respectful silence for the entirety of the summit as the prince bellowed with passion and vitality, speaking of sieges, soldiers and ships, of tactics and supply lines. Evita had done her best to follow his words, but many things were beyond her understanding.
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"Even now with you dyer boy's life in danger, Evita, you gaze to other men with want."
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Ignore her, she wants a reaction.
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She sat at the highest row of the staggered bleachers in the tan-white room, to the right of the Blessed Mother, A seat above and to the right of the snake, Andreah. Evita looked over to the Mother, she sat unmoving still as a statue in her long white dress with blue accents and embroidery sewed together with a cloak and vale.She had remained beautiful despite age; smooth pale skin that was almost without a wrinkle. Her tawny-black hair was braided and pinned behind her head in a spiral; a large blue flower in the center of the braid. Admiration and disdain always seemed to come together with Evita laid eyes upon her.
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I am meant to become her. I have to become her it's my duty. I can't become her not with Andreah slithering about. I don't even want to become her. I just want to leave this place. The thought no longer brought sadness like it did when she was younger. Now all she felt towards it was anger, anger towards Andreah for trapping her, Anger towards the Mother for forcing her into this position but most of all she felt a longing for freedom. She shoved her emotion to the back of her mind and returned to her duty.
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The foreign prince stood at the lowest part of the rectangular room, still making his proclamations in the center where all could hear his voice. Fifty Aran guard stood stoic in black armor and formation on the opposite end of the room, contrasting the prince's soldiers, attired in brown leather and bronze scaled armor over purple-red tunics and lacking any formation.
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The prince paused and looked up to the Blessed Mother. "These islands will serve as a naval outpost during the invasion. My brothers are working on the elimination of the ship maker of Poniatov, the lavender queen, and the fat sultan. I will take the city of Polis myself. We have a strategy that cannot be beaten."
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"And what if it is?" The Blessed Mother asked as she rose from her seat with a face of disappointment.
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The prince stammered in confusion. "W-what if what is?"
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"This strategy, what if it's beaten? It seems as though it relies entirely on the cooperation of what are to you, strangers. Dahndaq has never been conquered and many have tried before you but you believe you can be the first? What if the 'fat sultan' rises up? What if the bull of Dahndaq outmaneuvers you?"
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"The city can be taken from within and that is what I plan to do. Should the bull of Dahndaq become an issue we may call upon you, Blessed Mother, to enlist your Aran guard in our conquest, with the combined force of my soldiers, elephants, ships and your guard we will bring-"
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She raised her hand to silence him. "The guard's duty is to The Mother and isles first and her successor second. Should our enemies decide to march on this land or should our support for your cause forebode violence, then and only then would I consider deploying my guard."
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The prince's tone shifted from confidence to agitation, "Mother...I meant no disrespect but surely you have enough to spare and still hold this fort."
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The Mother's voice rang out in response, louder than the prince had been speaking. "Of course I do, it would take but eighty of my guard could hold this temple, four hundred to hold the entire island and I have over eight times that amount. Should a counter-invasion take place on the shores of the Aran Isles, my goal would not be simply to hold this temple or the fort encasing it but beat our attackers back. You may not fear the bull of Dandaq, the fat sultan, the Titans of Jhyr, or the influence of their lavender queen, but here, prince, we do."
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"Worry not, Mother, the bull can be tamed, the sultan has many sons each with their own ambitions and a Titan is little more than a slave, or a sell-sword we even have a few Titans of our own."
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"Such confidence," the Mother scoffed, "Though it is sinful and unbecoming I envy that in you young prince, may it take you far."
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"All Thacia shall bear witness to exactly how far it will take me."
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"It's settled then, best wishes on your journey," The Mother said and curtsied.
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"Likewise...we set sail for Arans eye at first light." The prince said as he exited the room, his soldiers following close behind.
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The room slowly emptied of clergymen, priestesses, and foreign soldiers.
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Evita watched impatiently as Andreah spoke in a hushed tone to the Mother.
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What are you telling her bitch? Just let me be.
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"Evita," the Mother called, waving her over.
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An angry flame began to consume her mind as she walked to meet them.
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"Yes, Mother?"
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"Andreah tells me of your difficulty; your lack of interest in your duty, show vanity and worst of all you speak of witchcraft and strange gods. So I wish to hear your side, speak true child."
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Evita shot a quick glance at Andreah. "In truth, Mother, you've tasked me with a burden I'm unworthy and unwilling to fulfill. I have no desire to take your place as Blessed Mother. But I wish it to be known I never spoke of witchcraft or anything of the sort."
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"See to it that I get no further reports of this talk of dark arts. Evita the reason I chose you, is because you don't want it. All your sisters are so desperate for my attentions. They envy your power and lust for mine. You lust for something else, freedom I suppose, but you cannot have it just as I couldn't nor the Mother before me. You have a duty, Evita, to your sisters, to your country and to you god Aran, praise upon him. You must find peace and happiness here where you belong and where you shall stay."
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"Mother I have prayed and asked Aran I have asked Overah and the other gods and never once have I felt their hands guiding me to your seat."
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"The gods have work for you here for many a year to come. Disobedience to the church and to your god is a guaranteed eternity in hellfire. Do not disobey."
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"I do not wish to Mother but I speak truth, the gods have given me no sign, no purpose here I-"
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"I have just told you the gods purpose for you do not question me or the gods again. You are the successor and you will make peace with this. Tonight the cane shall teach you the humility you lost."
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Evita hung her head to hide the tears welling up in her eyes. "Yes, Mother."
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Evita looked to the roof of her room and clenched her teeth. The cain burned white-hot as it struck her buttocks but as she focused on it each strike seemed to hurt less.
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After Andreah had finished with her eight overzealous lashes she smirked. "Evita you must try harder, that boy isn't going to save himself. Do you even understand what it means to be flayed?"
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"Get. Out."
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"Excuse me? You've forgotten yourself. I know you're a whore, I know you fucked that boy, I have proof and now if you don't beg forgiveness-"
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"LEAVE! OR SO HELP ME I WILL STRIKE YOU DOWN!"
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Andreah took a step back in fear, "Ha you forget yourself, we shall see how this plays out for you tomorrow!"
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Evita grabbed the fire poker from the brazier and began to walk towards Andreah. Andreah, eyes wide, ran from the room and slammed the door shut. "Just wait Evita, you'll wish you hadn't done that."
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Alone in the dark, all Evita could think about was the Mother, Andreah and her growing hate.
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I'd see this temple burnt to the ground before I let her become the Mother. She will be the Blessed Mother of char and cinder before I serve her.
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The moon rose high in the sky and the night sung loudly. Evita sat out atop her balcony watching gentle waves rock the warships a calm breeze flowing across her white nightgown.
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The night peace was interrupted by four gentle knocks on her door. Evita rose cautiously.
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"Who's there?"
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Her question was answered by the sound of four more knocks at her door. Evita opened her door a crack and peered out into the dark hall. Her eyes met a familiar white mask.
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"Hello priestess, shall we begin?"
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"Begin what? How did you get past the guard!?"
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"Keep your voice low my lady, we wouldn't want to wake the temple."
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"What do you want?"
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"I want to place you as Blessed Mother and remove the current...problem you have with your fellow priestess."
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"I don't want to be-"
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"I know, after you fulfill our end of the bargain you can simply resign and your successor will become the Mother."
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"And how would we go about doing this? What you've proposed."
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"You leave that to me, my lady."
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