The Keisarinna Palatsi, Imperial State of Brandenborg
Imperial City of Berlun, The Imperial Queendom of Regna Loreau
The woman was having yet another bad day, and the larger amount of these as opposed to the diminishing amount of good days was not doing her sanity any good, let alone those around her.
Still, four days ago had been the day that she had officially announced her FiancÚ as both King Karl XII of Sweden and as her lawfully, soon-to-be-wedded husband. Naturally, the general population was celebrating the first actual Royal Wedding in decades, and the Swedes were especially ecstatic that they were once again ruled by a link to the Royal Family of Sweden, something that they had been pining for decades to attain. There was naturally some grumbling amongst the other minorities within the Queendom, all but the radicals were more than content with their current standing, something that she was more than content with.
It was rather nerve wracking really, the carefully laid plans over all these years that had resulted from the collapse of her mothers Empire to the rebirth of her own, all coming to fruition now, in this final hour. The Wedding, the final unification of all the great houses of both the Queendom and its minorities, it was finally complete. The Marriage was not arranged, but one could easily mistake to have been, given the nearly outlandish amount of coincidences that just so happened to have conspired together.
First was the simple thing - he was of the house of Palatinate-Vasa, and that made him descended from the Swedish Monarchy which had been absolved centuries before. Second was high very high popularity amongst the people in the Swedish half of the Queendom, and a show of public unity was most certainly in high demand given the whole situation. Thirdly was his standing within Loreau's highest echelons. He belonged to the Sjaford house through his mother, and as a result, their marriage united the two invisible halves of the Queendom under one.
Still, she thought as she swirled her glass of sima with that slightly casual motion one could only accomplish after a drink, it was a match made for both love and politics.
Her fingers went to the bridge of her nose as she closed her eyes for a moment whilst staring at the harsh light of the tablet in her hands, eventually sighing and placing the glasses, which were currently resting on the table next to her, onto her face and blinking her eyes into focus. Her eyes no longer straining in the harsh blue light of the screen, she finally read the message she had been sent to approve - it was a final draft of the Fifth Proscription she had sent away to be edited before release, and her finger paused over the one thing she had doubts about in it.
Specifically her Queendom's involvement in it. Sure, it had been the plan from the start to engage in this war, but actually being the one to say 'Go", to metaphorically pull the trigger on a conflict that would inevitably end both innocent live, and the lives of the soldiers whom she felt a profound sense of sisterhood with. It was a daunting prospect for a girl not even edging on her third decade of life.
Existential questions aside, the woman glanced around the room with the sort of aimless gaze that was customary of people attempting vainly to ignore a problem that had reared its head, and one that there was no easy escape from. In the end, the traitorous room offered no distractions other than stunning view of the city of Berlun. Over the baroque architecture, there was the distinct shape of the Brandenborg gate that stood proudly amidst the Berlun skyline, and the view in the darkness was absolutely stunning.
Perhaps it was the thoughts of the brave men of Prussia that inspired her, perhaps it was her thoughts of the great men who had once sat in her place and planned war, or taken their breaks from war to think about the victories and defeats they had sustained, or perhaps it was her thoughts of the Great man named Frederick who had once stared at this same view and joined his men in war. Regardless of the true answer, she gave her Royal assent and prepared herself to be signing all too many letters to mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, husbands and wives for her taste. But if those brave soldiers could face death for her? She could face their families.