After Bruno’s conversation with the Kaiser, the tournament came to an end, and Maximilian Keller was named the National Grand Prix champion.
An elaborate belt was wrapped around his waist while Eva begrudgingly handed off a small coin purse filled with her final wager to her younger sister, Elsa.
The Winter Goddess of Russia, as many called her, simply smirked smugly as she received her elder sister’s loss, feigning the utmost civility behind words laced with contempt.
"It was a fair wager, beloved sister. Well played...."
Eva couldn’t give voice to her inner thoughts. She knew exactly the game her younger sister was playing, but could not call the woman out on it. After all, they were no longer children, and bickering over such a petty matter was beneath them both.
Still, Eva was clearly soured by the loss, running immediately to her father, who was himself reaping the spoils of his own victories.
"Father... please tell me the Easter Championship bout will have someone who is a proper match for this year’s Grand Prix winner?"
Elsa’s finely sculpted ears perked up when she heard Eva’s comments, no doubt already making plans for how to defeat her elder sister yet again when Easter came.
Bruno, however, sighed and shook his head, counting the gold coins in his pouch that his brothers, sons, and grandsons had yielded after his bet proved correct. His voice was far calmer than usual.
"I’m sure Easter’s event will be just as entertaining as tonight’s. Now come, forget this loss and look forward to the future. After all, your mother and your sisters have been slaving away in the kitchen all day to prepare a meal for the whole family, and you two have opted to watch the fights with the men. Have you no shame?"
Eva instantly flushed with embarrassment at being called out so directly. Meanwhile, Elsa snickered in the background. She knew all too well she was in the same camp, but unlike her sister, she felt no shame about it.
Her cooking skills were as refined as any other raised responsibly within the Royal House. But Elsa had long since portrayed herself as wholly inept in that regard, simply so her mother would shoo her away from such taxing responsibilities during large family gatherings like today’s celebration.
As much as she tried to restrain herself, she could not resist the urge to pour salt into her elder sister’s wound with a particularly provoking remark.
"That is true... Mother has exiled me from the kitchen because my skills are so poor. But Eva has always been a wonderful cook, don’t you feel any guilt forcing our dear mother and our younger sisters into performing all the work for so many people?"
Eva shot Elsa a telling glare. Even her own husband looked at her as though what had just been said was the greatest crock of shit imaginable. He knew firsthand how exceptional her cooking truly was.
He also knew the friendly rivalry between the sisters was something Elsa deliberately plotted and provoked in her favor.
Because of this, both Eva and Alexei instantly understood what had transpired, and the Tsar cast his sister-in-law a sympathetic glance.
Bruno, of course, knew exactly what was happening the moment Eva entered the room and realized her sister had been watching the fights. She had taken the bait and now paid for it.
He wanted to laugh at his daughter’s misery, misery she had brought entirely upon herself, but couldn’t find the heart to do so. Instead, he sighed and gently consoled her while ushering her away.
"Alright, enough. Go make things right with your mother and your sisters. You’ve been absent far too long, but dinner is not yet finished. I’m sure they’ll appreciate your help."
Eva inhaled sharply as she considered what protest to offer, but when she saw the looks cast her way, she could only fold beneath the pressure. Bowing gracefully before her royal father, she scurried off without another word.
Only once she was gone did Bruno cast a playful smirk toward his other daughter, sighing as he shook his head.
"Well played, Elsa...."
A warm smile etched itself onto Elsa’s usually cold, flawless face at her father’s words, her porcelain cheeks tinted with a faint rosiness otherwise absent throughout the year.
Bruno rose from his seat and walked off, grabbing another glass of Eierlikör as he headed toward the dining hall along with the others.
Dinner would soon be served, followed by dessert, and finally the opening of presents around the Tannenbaum and the hearth.
It was rare for him to have a day devoted solely to rest, to the simple comforts of a lovingly prepared feast and the joyous company of his family.
And as the years continued to count down toward judgment, Bruno found himself cherishing such rare moments with increasing affection.
Bruno lingered by the hearth long after the others had moved on, the crackling of the fire a steady, grounding presence.
He watched his children and grandchildren drift through the room, laughing, arguing, living, each of them unaware of just how fragile such moments truly were.
He had helped expand an Empire, broken nations, and bent history itself to his will. And yet, standing there with a glass in his hand, he found himself more afraid of time than of any enemy he had ever faced.
Time did not negotiate, it did not retreat, nor did it care how many victories one had secured.
Each year, these gatherings felt rarer. Not because they would cease, but because he would not always be there to anchor them.
The world he was shaping would endure long after his bones had turned to dust, but his family, these fleeting evenings, these imperfect, beautiful moments, were what gave that future meaning.
Bruno took a slow breath and let the warmth of the room settle into his chest.
If judgment awaited him, then so be it.
He would meet it knowing he had preserved something worth saving, not just a nation, not just a civilization, but the simple, human bonds that made such things worth defending at all.
And for tonight, at least, that was enough.