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It hadn't even been an official wager. More of an unspoken thought experiment inspired by her sister.
Maximilion was too busy dying to really care what Rosetta thought of her. To care about Rosetta at all. It was much more important to poor Maximillion Calypse that she lie in bed weeping over lost love. A love so strong, apparently, it just cured all the pain she had been forced to endure. So healing that it could transform her into a war hero. So powerful that it could do all this in just over a year? No. That couldn’t be right. Rosetta refused to believe it.
So that was their wager, one-sided as always. Like everything Rosetta had from Maximillion, it was scraped from the glass between them. There would be no lasting joy in her victory, seeing as her opponent had completely given up on life. But even then, the darker part of her pride twisted with satisfaction when she saw they had finally given up.
The valiant and legendary Remdragon knights, slayer of Sektor and soldiers of the united armies, felled as always by a shriveled old duke.
They were told in no uncertain terms they had to leave, woefully before Rosetta could enjoy their defeat fully. There would surely be sonnets written about the irony of it all. At least, if anyone cared to hear a sonnet about the Hero’s pathetic first wife once he married Princess Agnes. The chapter of his life her sister occupied was short, start in comparison to the desperation she had shown on her deathbed. In one conversation Rosetta knew that these men had become Maximillion’s entire world, but a letter from a guard was enough for them to abandon her.
It was barely midday when Rosetta saw Maximillion being dragged away. They were old enough now she needn’t follow, but she still felt a lukewarm dread when she considered how damn poetic this all was. Her sister was weak, too weak to survive their father’s torment despite his worries about the engagement. The knights would be passing through the gate in the next hour. It was likely she would die the moment it swung shut behind them.
Perhaps that was why Rosetta found herself leafing through various sleeping drafts as the time for their departure grew near. A bit of an extreme solution for what was a petty whim, but she supposed her father wouldn't her near them either with the engagement so close. It wasn’t often that the cool and haughty Rosetta Croix oftered mere guards her favor, even so she was rather disgusted by how easily they accepted her offer for refreshment.
It did not escape her notice that they seemed to find her more ‘refreshing’ than the wine, she could have fed them horse shit if she wanted.
With that bitter mood lingering on her tongue, she found herself a bit mischievous when she saw the gathering of brave warriors gallantly running away. It wasn’t difficult to pick out the worst of them- he was a full head taller, darker, and Rosetta had less than fond memories of the way he glared at her sister whenever they met.
“Leaving so soon, brother?” The word slid from her lips like a black and twisting leech. When the large man turned, Rosetta was pleased to see the mutual disdain he had for the title.
“Fuck off.”
The flinch was shameful and involuntary, Rosetta told herself she was merely surprised he had resorted to such language so quickly. It offered little comfort, at this time in her life she had hoped to no longer be surprised by how disgusting men could be. The other knights were certainly shocked- it was all that kept them from springing forward to chastise him. Rosetta decided to step over it before they started their tittering in her honor.
“I’m glad you were able to see my sister at last,” she said politely, “Are you satisfied she is well?”
The look she received might have scared her had anyone else been her father. Instead she met his glare with a cool ignorance of her slight. He seemed to be waiting for her to buckle, and those cold eyes softened with confusion when she didn’t. It was almost sweet how he thought that would reduce her to tears. Had that been his hobby with her sister?
“R-riften i-is different from our father,” was what she had said.
In the queendom of her demise Maximillion mustered strength to defend this man. The man who now tried to scare a stranger just to punish her. It was a disappointment, but Rosetta couldn’t be surprised. How would her sister know any better from her cage? Men could do so little to earn a woman’s trust. If he held back from killing her even once she’d see him as an angel. As she coldly met his display of dominance Rosetta wondered if there was anything so loathsome as a brother in law.
The thought made Rosetta hide her lips with her fan. It was pathetic for her to still covet the love of a dying fool.
“She doesn’t want to see me,” he growled, turning his back to her.
Rosetta’s brows rose as she continued fanning herself.
“That cannot be right,” she mused, “For that is what you were told yesterday and it didn’t dissuade you then.”
Another chill fell upon the knights as they looked on, their faces twisting with pooly hidden rage. Not for the first time it occurred to Rosetta that she was surrounded by people who very sorely wished she was dead. Perhaps it had been a poor decision to drug the guards.
“...And what you were told countless times over three years,” Rosetta continued, keeping her fear hidden, “Yet one day I awoke to find she had been kidnapped as if she were the spring goddess from a Roem fable.”
Again Riften Calypse stared at her, more openly confused now. It wasn’t as if she could blame him, not even Rosetta knew why she continued to rub their noses in defeat.
“What has changed that her ‘refusal’ finally sticks?” she asked lightly.
The large man’s jaw twitched as he considered the question, but it was the knight that stood beside him that shuddered as if broken from a trance.
“Your father has asked we leave his lands,” he said, “We are preparing for our departure, if you please my lady.”
He bowed his head dutifully in respect for a Duke’s Daughter. Rosetta inspected his glistening armor and golden hair. He was a picture in both poise and stature, dashing in the way of a fairytale prince she had been taught to yearn for. From the rough way the other men continued gaping her it seemed he was the only one with any sense. Perhaps it was his brain she should pick for answers.
“I see,” she said. Lightly clapping her hands in understanding, “It is my father that refused you instead of her!”
Another silence as even her blond knight frowned at the remark.
“Surely every time in the past you ignored her rejection because you heard it directly from her lips, and not my father’s.”
Comprehension dawned on the face of a thin man that stood to the back of the knight’s gathering. As he pushed himself forward, Rosetta considered she had chosen the brain of the bunch poorly.
“We have never spoken to Lady Calypse,” he said, “We weren’t told of her condition, is it possible she was unable to properly answer?”
“You haven’t been?” Rosetta asked, eyes widening, “That seems counterproductive. Surely you were told she simply isn't fit to travel at present, as close as she is to death’s door.”
When Rosetta said this, something strange happened. She hadn’t been watching her brother in law, but out of the corner of her eyes she saw a flicker of true terror in his cold face. Rosetta stared sidelong at him, tilting her head.
‘H-he truly cherished me…’
What right did he have to be so frightened? If he knew anything about her, he’d know that surviving a war was the least of her hardships. No one understood the daughters of Croix, least of all strong men who did as they pleased. Only Rosetta had to watch as the life drained from Maximillion all these years. She hadn’t wanted to see her sister, she had prayed every day she’d stay gone forever. But this fool had let her slither back again, and now had the audacity to show concern?
Something irritable picked at the armor in Rosetta’s heart. It wasn't enough for him to slink away feeling sorry for himself. He had to know how complete of a failure he was.
“I suppose I can’t blame you,” Rosetta finally sighed, “Of course you’ve noticed my father is a proud and cruel man, seeing as it's why you haven’t offered me the courtesy of a lady.”
“My apologies, my lady, we were merely-”
Interrupting was impolite, but there was only so long the guards would remain sleeping.
“And since you’ve noticed my father is a proud and cruel man,” she continued, “You must have surmised that he might
overstep
in matters that threaten his grip over his family.”
Three times the Remdragon knights came for her sister during the campaign, three times father had turned them away. Rosetta summoned those memories now, scanning for the faces that had been so easily tricked. Her eyes settled again on the fair knight, who seemed to be the most disturbed by her words. She directed her admonishments to him.
“Of course you realized at some point it was suspicious, but who could blame you with the campaign in its peak? It was just easier to take the flimsy ‘no’ at face value with more important matters at hand.”
“We are aware there was a miscommunication,” the skinny man spoke up again, glaring at Rosetta with more understanding than his fellows, “But what I am asking now is if Lady Calypse is well.”
Again her eyes fell on the skinny man, out of place amongst the burly knights. Instead of the same dashing yet deeply stupid air of confidence, she sensed a kinship with his exhausted intelligence. When she arched a brow at him he sighed a growl.
“I’m a mage,” he said, “I have been responsible for her treatment for some time now.”
Something cold and hateful slid down Rosetta’s throat and settled in her gut. It was as if she had been forced to swallow some horrid tonic that diluted her insides with a numb rage.
“A mage,” She said softly, “You have healed my sister before?”
He nodded again, frowning at her. With a lurch of disgust Rosetta recognized another man who thought he cared for Maximillion Croix. They seemed to be everywhere now.
“And as her physician,” she asked sweetly, “I wonder if you ever noticed the mark of previous healings in her body? I’m told they leave a trace if administered often enough. It must have occurred to an intelligent man such as yourself that it was strange how often a famously shy and sheltered woman has been healed in the past?”
Rosetta’s eyes narrowed as her voice dropped dangerously, “Though I wouldn’t blame you for not looking too closely, it is so very difficult to notice anything but that stammer.”
“Shut your mouth.” The words cut through Rosetta’s anger like a blade of ice. Again she turned to her brother in law, his shock had faded into a rage at her words. Even under the full brunt of that glare Rosetta couldn’t help but smirk mirthlessly.
“Have I struck a nerve?” She asked softly, “Are you incensed that other people notice that shameful habit?”
“There’s nothing wrong with her voice,” Riften growled, taking a dangerous step forward.
How could it be that such a small motion could fill the room with fear? Rosetta found herself about to cower again, and to her deep humiliation, her own voice wavered when she found it.
“I-I’m sure you believe that,” she said, “But do you really think my father agrees with you?”
The question hung in the air for a beat, Rosetta was pleased to find the intimidating stance falter somewhat.
“The Duke of Croix is protective and loving to his oldest daughter,” he said, narrowing his eyes, “He speaks of it constantly.”
The world seemed to stop. Nothing else around Rosetta registered. She would have gaped at him if she weren't above such vulgar expressions.
“My god,” she said, a mad glee bleeding into her voice, “You believed him?”
The words were out before she could stop them- for one terrifying moment Rosetta thought these men would bear down on her like angry hounds. But when her senses stopped buzzing with fear and outrage, Rosetta found a room full of men staring into space like vacant children.
With her anger exhausted, only a glum disappointment remained in the recess of Rosetta’s heart. This was it? These were the valiant knights that had won her sister’s trust? Rosetta had wasted years spent yearning for solidarity, some connection between sisters that could weather their father’s cruelly. The spite she felt for her sister’s aloofness mixed with the fear the cane would someday land on her cheek burned in her chest. Men knew nothing of a woman’s torment. They knew only their greed and the light that shone from her curls. How had Maximillion endured being made to kiss the ground like a maggot, seen how brave and noble knights watched on and did nothing, and be so completely betrayed by the entire sex, only to give her faith to these wretched oafs?
Rosetta’s lip curled with distaste. It was what her sister deserved, to die mourning such worthless things. She could sleep easily knowing she had won her petty one-sided wager against such a foolish woman.
“Honestly,” she sighed, beginning to fan herself again, “What is the point of chivalry if a knight ignores a damsel in distress when he sees one?”
It was an uncharacteristic break in her composure, either to mock them in their defeat or offer one final chance she didn't know. She felt the rush of heavy bodies pass her, the fairytale knight just barely managing to keep his companions from running her over. Rosetta watched after them as they fled their horses to brave the depths of Castle Croix.
She stood in the hall pensively, her eyes sliding to check her nails as she considered the conversation. The die wasn’t cast as of yet, it seemed. Though it should have irritated her further, Rosetta found herself peacefully trailing after them in no particular hurry.
Wagers were no fun if they were won too easily, after all.