(What was the point of my life, I wonder?)
"Sigh..."
Inside the swaying carriage, a woman on the cusp of her fortieth year let out a soft, weary sigh.
She was dressed in a black gown, and though she was alone in the compartment, her face remained hidden behind a dark veil.
Her name was Emerald Aiwood. Or perhaps, following the divorce, she should once again be known as Emerald Geisel?
(Or maybe even Emerald Schlark? How pathetic, to not even know who I am anymore.)
Emerald mocked herself, the corners of her mouth turning up in a bitter smile behind the lace.
Emerald had originally come to the Aiwood Kingdom as an Imperial Princess of the Geisel Empire. She was not a princess by birth, however; she had been the daughter of a lower noble who merely happened to share the imperial bloodline.
Twenty years ago, the death of the tyrant who had ruled as the Former King of Aiwood caused a wave of international instability. To soothe these tensions, she had been adopted by the Emperor and sent to the Kingdom as a bride.
The circumstances were complex, but it was, in essence, a simple political marriage.
Emerald had become a Royal Consort, and she had borne a son.
She had to think of him in the past tense now. At this very moment, her son was likely drinking from a poisoned cup to end his life.
Her son's name was Rodel Aiwood.
He was the Third Prince of the Aiwood Kingdom, and he had been named the mastermind of the recent insurrection.
While Rodel had been sentenced to death for his treason, Emerald—as a daughter of the neighboring empire—had been spared with a divorce out of diplomatic consideration for her homeland.
Nevertheless, she was forbidden from remaining in the Aiwood Kingdom and was currently being deported back to the Geisel Empire.
(Married into the Kingdom for the sake of the Empire, gave birth to a son... and yet I was never allowed to be his mother. Now I am exiled from my home because of his crimes. What did these twenty years actually accomplish?)
As an Imperial Princess, Emerald had been sent to ensure friendship between the two nations. A transparent political arrangement.
Perhaps it had achieved something.
After all, there had been twenty years of relative stability between the two countries since the tyrant's passing.
But that era of peace was drawing to a close, shattered by the death of the very bridge meant to sustain it: Rodel, the prince who carried the blood of both worlds.
The signs had been visible for years. Inside the Empire, the faction advocating for the invasion of the Kingdom had been gaining momentum.
The pro-war faction had existed even before Emerald's arrival, but as the moderate Emperor aged and the fire of his life began to flicker, they had grown far more powerful than ever before.
(I could not become a bridge between our nations. And I could not even be a mother.)
Emerald had brought Rodel into this world, yet she had played no part in his life.
The Queen Dowager had claimed him the moment he was born, and it was she who had raised him.
It wasn't that Emerald lacked affection for the child she had suffered through labor to bear.
She simply lacked the power, the courage, and the recklessness to fight for him.
No one could defy the wishes of the Queen Dowager, the supreme authority of that era. Emerald was never permitted to be involved in his upbringing or his education. She had never known him as a mother knows a son.
(And yet... to think that I would actually weep for him.)
Before she departed from the Royal Palace, Emerald had been granted a final meeting with Rodel.
There should have been no bond between them, no parental warmth to speak of. Yet when she looked upon her son's face for the first time in years—and for the very last time—Emerald had found herself in tears.
She had been surprised to find that any maternal instinct still lingered within her.
(If I had been the one to raise him... would things have turned out differently?)
She pondered the question as the carriage jolted, but it was a useless hypothetical.
When Rodel was born, the Queen Dowager’s influence was absolute, eclipsing even that of the King.
As a foreign princess with no allies in a strange land, Emerald could never have stood against her. If she had tried, she likely would have been executed alongside her son as a fellow conspirator.
(This outcome was surely unavoidable. But what am I to do now, returning to my homeland so late in life? There is no place left for me there.)
There would be no warm welcome waiting for her in the Empire.
To the moderates who desired peace, Emerald was a failure—a tool that had outlived its usefulness.
To the pro-war faction, she was a nuisance, an awkward reminder of a failed diplomacy.
At her age, she could no longer serve as a piece for another political marriage. Even if she returned to her family home, she would be treated as an unwanted burden.
"Truly... what was the point of my life?"
Emerald let the words slip into the empty carriage. A moment later, the vehicle lurched violently, and the sounds of angry shouting and clashing steel erupted from just outside.