The Romantic Trials Of A Transmigrated Empress

Chapter 373: The queen of emotional frostbite.

Roland Maximus was not sure if he knew how to grieve the death of the woman that gave him life. He knew how to fake a smile when people said to him ’I’m sorry, you have my deepest sympathies, it is a pity, sorrows and more perfunctory words that were said to console one who was grieving.

He just didn’t know if he was grieving and he was tired of hearing people tell him how sorry they were. What were they sorry for? Had they been responsible for her death?

For two days, he had been unable to consolidate what he was living and this was the third day and he was numb. He could hear a ringing in his ears, the priest was giving a sermon in the royal chapel and despite his mouth moving he could not hear a thing that was said.

He was looking at the large picture of his mother that was encircled in a wreath, sitting on top of her closed casket.

She was smiling!

Roland could not remember the last time he had seen Queen Maurelia De-Kensington smiling. He was sure that he never saw her laughing. Every time he met her, she had been stern and impatient. Cold and cruel. Unloving--unfeeling.

"We should be thankful for the great things that out late queen did for us and the legacy she has left it behind." The priest said.

Despite not hearing most of the sermon, he heard those words and he almost laughed. Thankful!

What a word! What did he have to be thankful for?

Was it for being a master of emotional frostbite that winter was warmer than her? noveldrama

His eyes narrowed as he recalled all the incidents when she had been very unkind. Like on his sixth birthday, when he invited over his friends and the royal chef baked a nice cake. The servants had decorated the ballroom and looped in the royal musicians to perform for them. All he wanted was a birthday party like Benjamin’s. Big, fun, with two parents that loved him and plenty of gifts.

Queen Maurelia had walked in with servants, taken down all the decorations and chased his friends out. She had told him very coldly, "Your birth was not an achievement, if it was, your father would be here." And then, she proceeded to throw the cake to the ground and push him down as well before walking off.

There was the humiliation at school when he got the opportunity to play a role in a play. When she was invited up to give a speech, in the presence of everyone, she had shared that he lacked talent and if he had been trying out for the role of court jester, he would not have got the job.

How could he forget when he forgot his riding gloves at the age of eleven. She had forced him to stand outside her chambers barehanded for six hours "to learn consequences." He never walked without a pair of gloves since then--not even in the hottest summer.

Ah! there was the massacre of his horses at the age of thirteen because she thought he was giving more of his time to things of no consequence like horse riding when he should have been learning more about leadership and court and trying to attract his father’s attention.

At fifteen, when he smiled at a girl at a garden party, she had pushed him into the moat and told him to cleanse himself of unnecessary thoughts. He had a fever for three days after that.

When he was sixteen and sent away to Stormwind, she did not bid him farewell or wish him well or visit him even once. She never wrote once letter to him and he had lived there like an orphan.

At eighteen, on the day of his coming of age ball, she had looked over him once and said, "At least you inherited your father’s looks. If you did not, you would be useless."

What people did not know was that he had owned two dogs in his life before Sigrid gave him Sunny. One dog had died at the hands of Consort Rina. The other, at the hands of his mother. It was a puppy that Rudbeck’s father gave to him, and he had named it Raff, after his father.

She had shot and killed it with an arrow and claimed it was an accident.

"She was such a great woman." Someone touched his shoulder from behind.

Roland forced himself to smile at Her grace, the widow of Lord Chamberlain.

His jaw clenched. She was not great, he wanted to say. She was a horrible woman and I never knew her. I am not sorry that she is dead and I will not mourn her. No, I will not miss her and I will not remember her. When I have children, I will not tell them stories about her because I have no story to tell.

"Hey." Sigrid tapped him on the shoulder.

"Mmm." He responded, absentmindedly.

Sigrid whispered, "It is time for you to give the eulogy."

Roland clenched his hands. What eulogy did they expect him to give? What nice things did they think he heard to say about her? Sigrid had written a eulogy for him but he had not brought himself to read it.

He had told Galen to do it but his brother was even worse. He said outright that he would be pulled into a farce for a stranger.

"I...I can’t." He forced himself to say and he brushed her hand away.

Like a phantom escaping capture, he rushed out of the chapel with a hand covering his mouth. Almost everyone assumed that he was doing so because he was wrecked by grief.

Galen followed after him as did a dozen red and white knights. Mutters and whispers echoed in the church, accompanied by pitiful sighs and slow shaking of heads.

The priest looked at Sigrid and she sighed. It seemed like it was up to her to step up and give the eulogy. How hard could it be to say a few words?

She froze time, purchased some artificial tear drops from the bank and dropped them in her eyes. then she rubbed her eyes for a bit and cast a spell that gave her dark circles around her eyes.

Was it enough?