Shackled To The Enemy King

Catherine’s heart pounded, the sound loud in her ears as her fingers curled tightly around the armrest before she even realized what she was doing.

Her mother...

The mother she had watched die in front of her eyes, who was weak, in pain, yet still worrying about her until her very last breath. The woman who had carried every burden silently, who had loved without condition, without resentment...

That mother... Was here.

Back, in this life too.

Maximilian turned slowly to look at the little girl in the back seat, his thoughts struggling to align with what he had just witnessed.

This... this was Catherine’s mother?

The same woman he remembered as gentle beyond reason, untouched by cruelty, incapable of hatred no matter how the world treated her. The woman who had once sung lullabies in a quiet voice, who had smiled at him with a warmth he had never deserved...

The woman who had died because of him.

His hand trembled against the steering wheel.

Catherine’s chest felt tight, her emotions rising too fast, too many, too tangled to name—but even through it all, she noticed it. The tremor in his hand. The way he held himself.

"Wait outside," Catherine said.

Maximilian blinked, the words taking a second to settle.

Everything collided at once—her mother’s return, the accusation, the implication that could shatter everything he had built with Catherine.

It was all too much.

His gaze searched her face, looking for something. If there would be guidance, doubt... anything.

But Catherine gave him nothing. Her expression was unreadable.

And so, without another word, he stepped out of the car.

The morning air was cool, carrying a faint bite that lingered from the night, while the pale sun hung low in a washed-out sky, its light soft and distant, casting long, quiet shadows across the empty stretch of road. It wasn’t harsh, not yet, but it revealed everything it touched with a quiet, unyielding clarity.

Catherine watched him for a brief moment, standing there alone in that still, open light.

Then she turned.

To Joanne.

To her mother.

"When did you remember?" Catherine asked, her voice catching despite her effort to steady it.

Joanne looked at her, the sharpness in her expression easing, if only slightly. "That night I came to your house with my brothers," she said. Her gaze drifted away for a brief moment, as though pulled by something distant, before returning to Catherine. "I couldn’t sleep the entire night... and the whole next day, and..."

"Mother..." Catherine leaned back through the narrow space between the seats, reaching for her hand, the word slipping out softer than she intended.

But before she could touch her, Joanne’s expression hardened.

"I remembered how much he humiliated you," she said, her voice turning colder. "I remembered that tearing pain in my soul when I thought about your future... that burning rage to get back at him."

Her lips curved, but there was no warmth in it.

"And what do I find? You with him. I could excuse that... but last night..."

Catherine’s hand slowly withdrew, her fingers curling back into herself as she sank into her seat, something in her chest tightening with each word.

Joanne let out a quiet scoff, the sound soft but edged with something sharp.

"I couldn’t rest, wondering what your relationship with him truly was," she continued, her voice steady, deliberate. "I thought you’d be smarter this time. But you..." Her gaze hardened, fixing onto Catherine with an intensity that felt far too heavy for a child. "I found you beneath him, your dignity cast aside, your legs spread for him... while he stood above you as though he had every right to claim you."

The words didn’t just sting.

They struck.

Hard.

For a moment, Catherine couldn’t even respond. Not because she didn’t have words, but because of who they had come from.

Her mother... had never spoken like this. Not once. Not to her, not to anyone. There had always been a quiet grace in her, a restraint that never broke, no matter the circumstance.

And now...

Those same lips, in the face of a child, spoke with something sharp, something cutting, something almost unrecognizable.

It felt wrong.

Deeply, unmistakably wrong.

And beneath the shock, heat rose, anger tightened in her chest.

To reduce what she shared with Maximilian to something so crude, so stripped of meaning...

No.

That wasn’t right.

"What do you want me to do then?" Catherine asked.

She could have spoken her heart right then, she could have defended him, could have argued, but she didn’t. Not yet. First, she needed to understand what her mother was thinking. Because the accusations Joanne had made earlier... they were vile. They weren’t just words, they were weapons that could destroy everything Maximilian had. His career, his life, his honor, his name... all of it could be reduced to nothing with a single claim.

And she still couldn’t believe that this was what her mother intended.

It was too cruel.

"He accused you of being wanton," Joanne said slowly, her gaze settling into something that resembled calm, but it wasn’t calm. It was something far more unsettling. "And in this life, I’m placed in yours... in the exact position needed... for this."

Catherine followed her gaze for a moment and saw Maximilian standing outside, a lone figure under the pale morning light. When Joanne looked at him, her face twisted ever so slightly, something sharp and unpleasant flickering through her expression. But when she turned back to Catherine, her eyes gleamed.

"I can destroy him with a single word," Joanne said, a small smirk forming on her lips. "We can get back at him for what he did to you. It’ll be the perfect vengeance."

Catherine didn’t respond.

She simply stared.

This woman... this person in front of her... was supposed to be the kindest soul she had ever known. The one who had endured everything quietly, who had never once let bitterness take root in her heart.

And now she was speaking of ruining a man’s life in the most absolute, irredeemable way. Not just harming him, but erasing him. Destroying him and everything tied to him with nothing more than a few carefully chosen words.

If her family believed it...and they would, Maximilian wouldn’t survive it.

This had changed between them now, but... a few weeks ago... If this same opportunity had been placed in Catherine’s hands... a chance to utterly destroy him, would she have taken it?

She thought about it.

No.

She wouldn’t have.

She would have faced him head-on. She would have drawn her sword without hesitation, or pulled the trigger without a second thought, torn him down in a way that was honest, direct, and undeniable.

Violence, perhaps, but never deceit.

Even though he had done exactly that to her. Even though it would have been fair. Just. Balanced.

She wouldn’t have done it.

And that was what she couldn’t understand.

She, who had lived as a war queen, whose entire life had been shattered and reshaped because of his lie... even she hesitated at the thought of destroying him this way.

So how could her mother... The woman who had always been gentle, always been kind... Choose it so easily?

"His mother forced him to do it, Mother," Catherine said.

She did not like this, did not like what she was seeing in her mother at all. In this life, she was only six, and yet the depth of that hatred... would consume her. It would destroy her life.

And more than that... She would never accept Maximilian being hurt.

Not like this.

Not ever.

"And that gives me the right to return it for you," Joanne replied, her tone unwavering. "Do you think only his mother is allowed to hurt? Can’t I do the same?"

"Even still..." Catherine began, trying to steady her voice.

But Joanne shook her head.

"When I died, I prayed for only one thing," she said, her gaze darkening. "To get back at them. And now that I have the chance... I will."

Catherine’s breath caught.

The hatred in her mother’s eyes was rooted, unchangeable. And that frightened her more than anything.

Her fingers curled into tight fists as something in her finally settled, a quiet but firm resolve taking shape.

"Then hear me out," she said.

Joanne leaned closer.