In The Name of Love

Minna sighs in relief as the Royal Seamstresses sweep out of the dressing room she shares with Fifi. They chatter amongst themselves about the new undergarments they’ll be sewing for her that afternoon, mixing in some bawdy wedding night jokes that make Minna cringe. She doesn’t want to think about the undergarments, let alone certain realities of married life, of having a husband and an expectation to bear his children, royal heirs. Oh to turn back time, to be a little girl again, she wishes, and she wraps her arms around herself in a poor imitation of a comforting embrace.

The only good thing about having the seamstresses around for hours each day, in Minna’s opinion, is that their constant conversation drowns out her thoughts. Their presence does nothing to combat her loneliness and the feeling that she is lost, cut adrift from all her moorings. She longs to spend time with her mother, to talk about what she can expect of her future, but Queen Ingrid has been quite busy with preparations for Minna’s wedding, and Minna feels she cannot ask her for more. Under any other circumstances, she and Fifi would turn to each other for comfort and help each other overcome life’s challenges. But Fifi has been distant lately, and almost never in their suite except to sleep. Even if she was here, would she understand? Would she want to talk with me? Minna wonders. All mention of the upcoming Royal Wedding twists Fifi’s face into a tight grimace and makes her shoulders stiff. No wonder she stays away. Minna spends almost all her time on wedding plans, most days.

She walks slowly into their antechamber, then nods in satisfaction; the seamstresses are gone for the day. She is grateful to have a moment of peace, even if she doesn’t know what to do with it. It’d be nice to play my violin or harp, she thinks. She’s not sure when she last played. She keeps most of her instruments in the study, and so she crosses the antechamber with quick, purposeful steps, eager for the comfort and escape music so often offer her.

“That’s it, Algot!” Fifi’s voice coos from behind the study door. She’s here?! Minna pauses, bewildered. She thought Fifi had left their suite when the seamstresses came in.

“Who’s a good boy?” Fifi exults. “Who’s the smartest raven in the world? That’s right! You are!”

Minna opens the study door as slowly as she can. Inside, Algot is perched on the back of a chair, plucking a grape from her sister’s fingers. Fifi is beaming; Minna hasn’t seen her so happy since the Quest for Favor. Algot ruffles his wings in delight as he swallows the grape, then turns to see Minna in the doorway. With a squawk, he lifts one clawed foot from the back of the chair and stretches it towards Fifi. Minna’s eyes widen as her sister puts a finger against his foot and his claws wrap around it. Fifi bobs her finger up and down a few times in an approximation of a handshake with her pet.

“What a good boy! You did it again! You’re so smart!” she exclaims, giving the raven another grape. Only then does she glance away from Algot and directly at Minna. “Oh! I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I don’t mind. That’s a neat trick,” Minna compliments. “I’m glad I got to see it. I didn’t know ravens could learn things like that.”

“I just…decided it would be something fun to try. While you were busy.” Fifi pats Algot’s head and pours some nuts and seeds from a bag on the table into a small gilded dish, which she slides towards the raven. He eagerly hops over to it and starts eating.

“Does he do anything other tricks?”

“I guess that depends what you mean. He usually comes when I call him, and he’ll talk to me sometimes.” Algot looks up from his meal and squawks in agreement. “Yes you do! What a smart boy.”

Minna cannot help but smile at her younger sister. “Is this how you’ve spent all your time, while I’ve been…busy?”

Fifi’s expression turns guarded. “Not all. I’ve done a lot of drawing. Do you want to see?” She pulls her sketchbook from one of the piles of books and parchment on her desk without waiting for an answer. “A frog posed for me not too long ago. Here.”

Minna crosses to meet her sister by her desk, mindful not to make any sudden moves that might disturb Algot. She wants to ask what Fifi’s not telling her, but her breath catches as she looks at Fifi’s drawing. “Wow.” Minna struggles for words for a moment. How long has it been since I’ve looked at her sketches? she muses, thoughts of everything else forgotten. She can’t remember any of Fifi’s work having this level of realism and artistry. Despite the lack of color, the frog appears to be almost glistening with moisture, and the water lily behind it is perfectly proportioned, at least to Minna’s inexpert eye. “This is so good. You’ve been practicing a lot. And how fortunate, to get to look at the frog long enough—”

“I know. I couldn’t believe it at the time. But you’re too kind. I wish I could paint them….”

“I think you’d be a wonderful painter. Have you asked Mother for supplies?”

“Yes, and painting lessons, but she told me Father won’t allow it.” Fifi’s face scrunches into an imitation of their father’s stern frown. “It is an unnecessary expense as we prepare for Minna’s wedding, and she ought to be focused on helping her sister and planning for her own future, not such frivolities.”

Normally Minna would not tolerate such disrespect to their father as Fifi’s mockery, but there’s real pain in her eyes, behind her attempts to make light of it. “Oh, Fifi. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. It’s fine. I’ll content myself with drawing and teaching Algot tricks. Unless there’s something I can be helping you with?”

“No. I just came to…see if perhaps a maid had dropped off a letter for me. And perhaps to play my harp.”

“I haven’t seen any letters. Hoping to hear from Adalberto?”

Minna’s cheeks heat up in spite of herself. “Perhaps. He should have gotten my letter at least a week ago….”

“He’ll write back. As you’ve said, he’s quite busy. The harp would be a good distraction, and if you don’t mind the company, I’ll stay and sketch. Maybe Algot will model for me?”

The raven’s head pops out of his food dish and he stares at Fifi imperiously for a moment before digging his beak into his back feathers, preening.

“That will work. I don’t think I’ve drawn you doing that—” Fifi starts.

“Pardon me, Your Highnesses,” Greta interrupts, panting and wiping her hands on her apron as she stands in the doorway to their study. Algot caws angrily and flies off Fifi’s desk, tipping over the remains of his food dish. Seeds and nuts bounce across the floor. Fifi huffs in irritation.

“What’s the matter, Greta?” Minna asks while Fifi starts cleaning up Algot’s mess.

“Queen Ingrid is on her way here, with the ambassador of Vyrunia and…and…. You’ll just have to see for yourself. I’ve never seen the like,” Greta explains. Vyrunia? Minna’s heart pounds in her chest. “She sent me to tell you to be ready—”

“Thank you, Greta. Help me fix my hair?” Did Didier change his mind? Would it matter if he did?

“Of course, Your Highness. Sorry I startled your bird, Princess Josefina. Princess Wilhelmina, perhaps we can go to your dressing room?”

“Yes, I was thinking the same thing.” Minna wasn’t thinking about the dressing room at all. It wouldn’t matter, of course. I chose Adalberto, and the wedding plans are underway, she reminds herself. Nothing can change that now. But why—

They’re only halfway back across the antechamber when the door to the hallway opens and Queen Ingrid sails into the room, her gown gliding over the floor, every hair perfectly in place.

“Ah, Minna, my dear. What a surprise we have for you!” she smiles at her eldest daughter. “Thank you, Greta. Will you go and fetch the seamstresses? I know they were just here, but oh! They’ll want to see this.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Greta answers with a curtsey, and then she’s gone and Minna knows her hair will stay just the way it is to meet the Vyrunian ambassador.

“A surprise, Mother?” she asks.

“Yes, you’ll see. The ambassador and his assistants will be here any moment. I suspect what they bring has something to do with this.” She pulls a piece of parchment bearing the Royal Seal of Vyrunia from somewhere in the folds of her skirts and hands it to Minna. “I haven’t read it, of course, but—”

“Then allow me.” In spite of her best efforts, her fingers tremble as she breaks the wax seal. The handwriting within is the same as the note Fifi received the night Minna announced her choice, neat and elegant, but in Aethyrozian this time. He had time to think about this one, Minna guesses, unsure whether that should count in his favor, as her eyes quickly scan Prince Didier’s words to her.

To Princess Wilhelmina of Aethyrozia, may Chuezoh’s light shine always upon her,

I should have written this days ago, and my failure to do so is yet another misdeed for which I must apologize to you. You are truly admirable in every aspect, and I never intended to cause you any pain or distress. I wanted to speak to you in person, before I left that night, but alas, I was not afforded that opportunity, through no fault of yours or mine; you had many suitors to entertain, and it seemed no secret that certain princes among them were favored in your father’s eyes for the privilege of your attention. I confess it was for that reason, as well as my attraction to your younger sister, that moved me to depart before your announcement of your choice. But that is no excuse for offending you, and so I pray that you will allow me to make it up to you.

With this note comes a gift I hope will prove useful to you as you prepare for your wedding. I have no delusions that your favor can be bought, nor do I have any intention of swaying your affections from Prince Adalberto. He is a worthy man, and I wish you both every possible happiness in your new life together. Please accept this gift as a proof of my regret for having caused you vexation. Perhaps it is too much to hope for your forgiveness, but I humbly request that you will, in time, accept my apologies, and that one day we might consider each other friends, or at least be on friendly terms.

Sincerest Regards,

Prince Didier of Vyrunia

“What’s going on?” Fifi asks behind Minna. At the same moment, a tall, dignified man with perfect posture, a curling waxed mustache, and Vyrunian livery enters the room and makes an elaborate bow. Behind him come seven servants, each carrying a bolt of fine fabric. At a glance, even without the ambassador, Minna can tell these are Vyrunian textiles of the highest quality. Each is in a good color for her, as well: sky blue, forest green, jade, turquoise, azure, lavender, and an elegant purple damask with gold threads woven through it.

“A gift for Princess Wilhelmina of Aethyrozia, in anticipation of her marriage, from Prince Didier of Vyrunia,” the ambassador announces with a slight Vyrunian accent. His eyes meet Minna’s as he continues. “His Highness, Prince Didier, bid me to assure you, Princess Wilhelmina, that he wishes only the best for you and your future husband, and that he holds you and your family in the highest possible esteem.”

“Thank you,” Minna breathes, unsure of what to say or what to think. From the corner of her eye, she sees Fifi looking over the Vyrunians and their gifts, eyes narrow, shoulders tight.

“He wants something,” she mutters. Minna turns to her, surprised, but no one else seems to have heard. Fifi bites her lip and shakes her head. “I can’t.” She withdraws back into the study. The door closes hard behind her. Minna hears the lock click and bites back a sigh that might have come with tears. I wish we’d had more time together, just the two of us, before Greta interrupted. Before the Quest for Favor, she might have hoped they could talk more at night before falling asleep. Lately, their nighttime conversations have been brief and superficial, with no solace or comfort at all for Minna.

“This is certainly impressive, Ambassador,” Queen Ingrid says, seeing that her daughter is overwhelmed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such magnificent textiles.”

“He hopes they will be useful in assembling Princess Wilhelmina’s trousseau, if they are to her liking,” the ambassador replies. Both he and Queen Ingrid look at Minna, all but demanding her opinion.

“They’re beautiful. He has…quite good taste in colors,” she admits, fighting to keep her voice steady. If only Father hadn’t…. If Didier hadn’t danced with Fifi…. But there’s no use considering what ifs, she reminds herself again. “May I touch them?”

“Certainly. They are yours, to do with as you see fit, along with Prince Didier’s goodwill and well-wishes.”

Minna runs her fingers along each bolt of fabric. Some are perfect for warmer weather, while others are thick and soft for colder seasons. The purple with gold threads is somewhere in between, an elegant choice for a formal event in any season. Perhaps a coronation, she finds herself thinking, impressed by Didier’s attention to detail and thoughtfulness.

“Of course I accept Prince Didier’s gift. I will write him a note, as well, given a day or two….” Minna says after a few moments’ deliberation.

“Take all the time you need, Princess. We know you are very busy. Where would you like these to be placed?”

“Anywhere in this room is fine. Wherever you think best.”

The ambassador nods and begins giving directions to the servants in rapid Vyrunian. Queen Ingrid comes to her daughter’s side, one eyebrow arched.

“Your father is also quite impressed by this gift from Vyrunia,” she murmurs so that only Minna can hear.

“Is he?” Minna inquires. Does he regret how he behaved during my Quest for Favor?

“Very much so. All this came with another letter, one from King Edmond addressed to King Ansgar directly. Do you have any idea why a suitor who left your Quest for Favor early might do something like this? I’ve never heard of the like, in all Aethyrozia’s history.”

A knot of conflicted emotions tightens in Minna’s midsection. For Fifi, she almost tells her mother, but something holds her back, and instead she just shakes her head. If the letter Father received is anything like the one I got from Didier, she’ll know soon enough.