Shackled To The Enemy King

Catherine leaned closer.

This was her mother, the one whose death she had mourned for the rest of her life. Even now, in this life, a part of her still held Maximilian responsible for that loss, for the emptiness that had followed.

In her previous life, Catherine had felt that absence in everything. In every decision she made, in every path she chose, there had always been a quiet, aching awareness of what might have been different if her mother had been there.

And she understood.

She truly did.

She herself had awakened to her past life at three years old, and the very first thing she had done upon seeing Maximilian again was try to stab him.

So how could she not understand this?

Her mother had raised him, trusted him, already seen him as family—as her future son-in-law. And in the end, he had been the one to bring ruin upon them, upon their kingdom, in the cruelest way possible.

Of course, she wanted revenge.

Of course, she couldn’t let it go.

But...

So much had happened after that.

Things her mother didn’t know.

Things that changed everything.

If she just explained, if she told her the truth, then maybe, just maybe, she could make her see reason. At the very least, her mother deserved to know what had really happened.

"Mother, I have a lot to talk to you about," Catherine said, her voice steady despite the storm inside her.

Joanne leaned back, her expression hardening, clearly displeased. "I thought we were planning on getting back at Maximilian," she said. "Or should I share it with someone first? My father? Your father? The police?"

Catherine’s hands curled into fists.

The threat was clear.

But even then, she forced herself to stay calm, to push past the rising frustration and focus on what mattered.

Her mother needed to understand.

There were nuances—things she hadn’t seen, things she hadn’t known. Catherine wasn’t dismissing what had been done to them. Her mother had every right to be angry, to feel betrayed.

But it wasn’t his fault alone.

It never had been.

She had thought that once her mother understood the full context, once she saw the whole picture, she would calm down.

But now... Looking at her, Catherine realized the truth.

Her mother wasn’t even in the state of mind to listen.

So Catherine did what she did best.

She chose her words carefully and precisely, meant to pull where it hurt most.

"Mother, listen to me," her voice lowered, gaining that quiet weight it always carried when she chose to take control.

Joanne’s brows furrowed, her head tilting slightly, a flicker of offense crossing her face, but Catherine didn’t stop.

"Is this all you want?" she asked, her gaze steady, unyielding. "You’ve been given a second chance at life, and you don’t want to be part of mine? You don’t want to hear me, to understand what I went through? All you want... is revenge?"

She pushed deliberately, letting guilt lace every word.

But Joanne only scoffed, shaking her head as if dismissing something trivial. "You’re lost in that same amorous trance I feared," she said. "Nothing I say will reach you like this. But I am your mother—and you will listen to me."

Catherine pressed her lips together, something sharp flickering in her eyes.

"Of course," she said, her tone tightening, "you wouldn’t care to listen."

The words came out colder now.

"You died... and father lost his mind with grief. Do you know what that left behind?" she continued, her voice steady, but carrying something deeper beneath it. "I had to pick up everything that shattered. Every piece."

She exhaled slowly, her chest tightening as the memories surfaced.

"I had to bargain myself away," she said. "To a king twice my age, just to keep the kingdom from collapsing into war. So yes—go ahead, blame everything on Maximilian if you want. I won’t say he was innocent. But he was not the source of all my suffering."

Her gaze hardened.

"If you had been there... if you had been strong enough to stay... I wouldn’t have had to walk into that tent at eighteen and let a man see me as something to be used... as something disposable. Something that didn’t matter after... as a blow doll."

The silence that followed was heavier than anything she had said before.

Joanne blinked, caught off guard, confusion flickering through her expression. "Used... how? Blow doll?" she asked, her voice quieter now.

Catherine inhaled slowly, her fingers tightening in her lap.

She didn’t want to relive it.

She never had.

A part of her had been left behind that day, something she had never truly been able to reclaim. Even a hundred lifetimes wouldn’t give her back what was lost that day. She had accepted it, but the loss she suffered still remained.

And maybe she never would get it back.

But even without understanding every word, Joanne could see it now, the weight of it, the pain that hadn’t faded with time.

"What happened?" she asked.

So Catherine told her.

Not everything in detail, but enough. Enough for her mother to understand what had come after her death. The choices, the consequences, the things Catherine had endured alone.

Joanne listened.

Quietly.

And when Catherine finished... "So it was all because of Maximilian," Joanne said. "He set all of this in motion."

Catherine let out a quiet, tired breath.

It wasn’t that simple. It had never been that simple, and that was what she tried to convey. How hard was it for her mother to get it?

"But when I died... I died loving him, Mother," she said softly, her voice breaking just slightly at the edges. "Can’t you see why—"

"He killed you," Joanne cut in, her tone sharp, almost incredulous. "Can’t you see that?"

She shook her head, something resolute settling in her expression.

"Now I understand," she continued. "Even in this life, he still has his hold on you. You’re not thinking clearly. You’re too far gone."

Her gaze hardened.

"I need to protect you."

Before Catherine could react, Joanne reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Her small fingers moved with alarming certainty as she unlocked it, scrolling quickly...and then dialed, the number for a child abuse helpline.

Just like that.

"What are you doing?"

And now... Catherine snapped.

She ripped the phone from Joanne’s hand.

"I said stop."