Cirella continued to pace back and forth in her room. She replayed the day's events over and over, trying to find some inkling that such an event would occur. Her room was a spacious one, she was thankful for that. It allowed her to leave her children in a separate room further inside with the servants and give her enough quiet to think. She needed to think; her family was in danger and with the arrival of Antares Xerxes, that danger became all too real. She let out a small curse to herself. The young Stygian blamed herself for not pushing enough when King Barranagan was alive, if she had stressed more the importance of her husband being named heir, things might have been different. Now that was no longer possible. She could feel the death of the King; no doubt many throughout the castle would have felt it too. She paused from her incessant pacing and sat down.

  She poured herself a glass of wine. The deep red liquid slushed back and forth in her glass, in it she saw herself and her children and it chilled her to her core. No blood would be spilt, especially those of her children. She would do whatever it took to avoid the fate that had befallen so many of those of house Xerxes. As Cirella took a sip of her drink, the first thing she noticed was how cold the wine was, it slid down the back of her throat softly. With it, a myriad of flavors danced on her tongue, from cherry to grape, to strawberries to vanilla. Each flavor greater than the last, it put a smile on her face. She took another sip and the order of flavors changed with some added new ones. In her younger years she would sneakily drink from her fathers cup trying to name the flavors. And her father, after scolding her, would tell her of all the flavors that could be tasted in the wine. The king's slow death forced her to think of her own father. She missed him, more so now than ever. His guidance at a time like this would have been a welcomed sight, but he had long since departed the world to join the ancestors soon after the birth of her eldest Samara, some five years ago.

  The laughter of her children caught her attention, she looked over to see them playing in another room. She was thankful that Samara and Loukas both got along. Even Though they were still children and Loukas was only three years old, there was still plenty of time for them to despise each other but for now, she did not take it for granted. Their room was large, larger than most, possibly only the King's room could be larger. From the ceiling hung a chandelier covered in candles, the lights bright enough to illuminate most of the room. A large table was centered right above the chandelier and with it adorned four chairs, and still there was space for four more. Oftentimes the family had dinner in their rooms as it was something intimate that Cirella wished to have. The walls of the room were covered in tapestry telling great stories of ancient Xerxes warriors and witches. Some of them were stories she knew, others she did not. She gazed to the far wall and adorned on it was her favorite tapestry, it was the story of Lucila Xerxes. Her story was not one that was well known, yet it spoke to Cirella when her father first recounted it to her. In many ways it had shaped Cirella into the woman that she was today, and she hoped it would continue to shape her. It was a memory she would never wish to forget.

  In the corner was a doorway leading to her bedroom where she shared it with her husband. All she wanted was to crawl underneath the sheets and sleep; perhaps it was all a dream and tomorrow may yield better things. As the thought brought a smile to her face, she knew she could not sleep. Her entire word was on the verge of shattering before her eyes. Sleep would come later, not now. As she sipped her drink a third time, the door to her left opened and in entered her husband, Daimion Xerxes.

  "You would not beli-" Daimion began.

  "What are you doing here?" Cirella interjected.

  There was a small pause, a confused expression came over Daimion's face.

  "What do you mean? These are our chambers, my love."

  "I mean why are you not with the others?" Cirella said, standing up. "The King just died, you should be by his side."

  "There was nothing for me to do, the funeral preparations are-" Daimion started.

  Cirella slammed her hand on the table.

  "Daimion, are you failing to grasp the situation? Your father, the king is dead. Your older brother has returned and your father has named him heir and you run away?"

  A look of confusion came across Daimion's face. He knew Cirella would have been in a bad mood but this was different, she seemed desperate.

  "I did not run away." began Daimion. " I asked them when preparations for the funeral would begin and they said it would take some time. I told them to alert me when they are complete. It is still a day."

  Cirella rubbed her forehead. Daimion had always been like this. It was not that he was slow, it was that he believed everyone else was dumber than him. He failed to grasp that things had begun to change and he was no longer in control of the situation. Cirella had thought eventually Daimion would grow out of this child-like self belief of himself, especially if he were to acquire the throne but even now during crucial moments he was still lacking. She wished to blame him but she could only have blamed herself. She should not have left him alone out there but she believed that he would be able to take command and finally show all those who doubted his candidacy for the throne. She tried to keep her composure.

  "My love." Cirella began. "The preparations for the funeral have long been completed. The important Lords and Lady's have long since arrived, and even some of the Elders have arrived, along with the closest members of the King's family. There is no reason to delay the funeral another day."

  "But then...why?"

  Cirella approached Daimion.

  "Because they were asked to delay it. Antares must have asked them to delay it by a day. He has already been back for only a few moments and he has begun to usurp your authority. Yes he is the oldest, but you are the King's second in command, the lord regent. The start of the funeral should have been when you commanded it." Cirella finished.

  As she gazed into her husband's eyes, she could see things started to click. He was beginning to understand the full scale of his blunder. Without knowing it Antares had assumed authority and began to take control and with such ease the people followed.

  "Those accursed fools." Shouted Daimion.

  Cirella hushed him and took him away from the children should they overhear. This had nothing to do with them and if she could do it, they would never be involved in what was going on.

  "I am going back out there, the funeral will begin immediately." grumbled Daimion.

  "It is too late for that." Cirella said, shaking her head. "Most have already retired to their rooms and the perception of you would be unfavorable right now."

  Daimion hung his head in shame and took a seat. Looking at him as he did, Cirella could not help but soften her mood. Daimion had neither been the biggest or the strongest nor the fastest. Yet she seemed to care for him greatly, even though their marriage was one of convenience rather than love. In the end the love did grow in it. She had grown tired of others looking down on Daimion for not being a warrior like his siblings, despite his best attempts to become one. It was king Barranagan that forbade him from picking up the sword which many looked at as a failure on Daimion's part rather than that of the king. Nevertheless, the more time they spent together the more their feelings for each other grew. Many believed had it not been for the arranged marriage, a woman like Cirella; as beautiful as she was fierce, would never have requited his love. The reason being Daimion even in his younger years was known as arrogant, seldom did he listen to reason from anyone. And young Cirella had such a venomous tongue for those who crossed her path.

  Two outcasts from different groups forced together. Fate was often an interesting and willing participant in the lives of the Stygians. But despite all his faults, Daimion never faltered in his opinion of his wife. Many did not like Cirella's unmoving assertiveness and keen eye for the affairs of the throne. And never once did he ask her to change. To Cirella, that was the greatest act of love she had ever experienced. And in return she bore him two children.

  Children were something Cirella never thought she would have such a strong reaction towards but the day Samara was born and she held her in her hands, Cirella cried all night. In that moment she knew she would do anything for the little child and would die for her. It was the same feeling she felt for Loukas as well. Her two children and her husband meant everything to her and she would never allow anything to happen to them. From the corner of her eye a small child came stumbling into the arms of her husband.

  "Daddy don't be sad." said Loukas in a soft tone.

  "My lady, I am so sorry! I tried-" A servant girl came running.

  Cirella raised her hand and the servant girl bowed lower, shivering. Humans were such fragile things Cirella thought.

  "My boy! Look at you, I am not sad. Where is your sister?" Daimion said, raising Loukas in the air and swinging him around.

  Just as if on cue, another small one approached them. She tried to walk with grace and this amused Cirella seeing her daughter attempt to carry herself with some confidence. Samara approached her father and hugged him.

  "Father?" Samara said softly.

  "Yes little one, do you want me to carry you too? Come here!" beckoned Daimion.

  Samara smiled and shook her head.

  "Samara, remember what we discussed, you need to use your words." urged Cirella.

  Samara looked up at her mother, her twilight eyes filled with so many questions, her black hair shone brightly even at such a time in the evening; small constellations making themselves known. Many believed she would be prettier than Cirella. Cirella agreed. Her brown skin glistened, she looked as fragile as glass to the touch. Cirella had always worried over her and how she would manage growing up in such a hostile environment, but it had been five years and Samara thrived and continued to grow. Although the biggest worry was her lack of speaking, whereas Loukas could never stop talking, Samara hardly said anything. In the beginning Cirella feared something was wrong, but in time with the guidance of lady Alena, Samara spoke more and more.

  "Ah Ciri leave her alone, when she's ready she will speak. Isn't that the right little one?" Daimion said, winking at her.

  Samara smiled and nodded. Daimion always spoiled her, Cirella thought. Samara gathered herself and began to speak.

  "Now...That g-grandsire... has gone to be... with the ancestors... are we in trouble... now that uncle...Antares is back... will you be...okay?" Samara asked.

  There was a moment of silence as Daimion searched for the right answer. Before he could speak, Cirella gave a look at the servant who quickly bowed and understood that any discussion of the events here would mean not only her death but the death of her entire family. She nervously took a step back.

  "I am perfectly fine little one." Daimion said, looking at both his children. "There is nothing to worry about, the blood of Barranagan Xerxes flows through my veins. As it does through you both. We bear the mark of the greatest house on our backs, do not fear."

  Cirella was thankful that the children were young enough to still believe in empty promises. They were still at the age where it did not take much to lie to them. So it also made it easier to lie to themselves too. They were both satisfied with the answer and Loukas seemed to be fine, but for some reason when she looked at Samara, she could not shake the feeling that she seemed to not believe Daimion, but perhaps that was more so Cirella's own thoughts than her daughters. She clasped her hands together.

  "Alright, time for bed. It has been a long day, young princes and princesses must rest now."

  "Mother!" both Samara and Loukas said in unison.

  She shot them a look and they turned to their father.

  "Father!" again they said in unison.

  Daimion was going to challenge Cirella's command but as their eyes locked she shot him a look too. Daimion felt the temperature of the room fall a few degrees and laughed nervously.

  "Listen to your mother." Daimion exclaimed. "If you wish to grow up big and strong you must sleep."

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  Both children grumbled but ultimately gave in to the request of their parents. The servant led both children to their rooms and once again the room fell into silence. Cirella was unsure of what she wanted to say, or if she should say anything at all. Instead she decided to pour herself another drink and one for Daimion. She offered him a glass.

  "Thank you." he said, trying to smile.

  Cirella allowed the moment to linger.

  "If he becomes King...what then?" she asked, running a hand through his hair.

  "Even you doubt my candidacy? Responded Daimion.

  Cirella put a hand on his shoulder.

  "I said if, I still believe the Elders will choose you. You have given so much over these last five years, while he was whoring and drinking himself to oblivion. You should be King." Cirella concluded.

  Even as the words left her mouth she did not believe them. Although none would admit it, Iliad had been on the decline for sometime now. A once proud nation no longer could compete with the others, she had no allies and very few still answered the call when it was used. Truthfully, it seemed the beginning of the end for house Xerxes. These were all concerns she had told her father winters ago before she was betrothed to Daimion and yet her father told her it was better to be the queen of a dying kingdom than no queen at all. Cirella had still had her doubts but now with the return of Antares, Iliad had to choose between a drunkard womanizer or a prince who did not have a king's bone in his body. If this was to be the end of her home and her people, so be it. But her children would not bear responsibility for this collapse. She would give them a life worth living. Daimion took a long sip of his drink and stared into it as though the liquid held the answers he was looking for.

  "I Wish he was the one that died on that day." Daimion said, muttering to himself.

  The words dragged across the air scraping on the very walls. Cirella dared not speak, the curse spoken so casually by her husband lingered with malice. Very few Stygian traditions were known due to their secretive nature. But even the common folk knew the disdain the Stygians had for curses. For Daimion to speak so freely as such about his own blood brother. Cirella was glad such a mistake was only uttered in their presence, for the consequence of uttering a curse was death for their people. At that moment Daimion came to his senses and realized what he uttered, he looked at Cirella.

  "I didn't- I mean I- I wouldn't." Daimion said, stumbling over his words.

  "It is alright, you are tired, we all are. Let us retire for the evening my love." Cirella suggested.

  Daimion nodded and made his way to their chambers. He had not even been back only a few hours and already Antares influence was felt. It was the fog of suffering that followed wherever he went, thought Cirella. She was not uncomfortable because of how casually her husband had uttered a curse, she was uncomfortable at how she wished the curse to be true. It was as though an evil took hold of her, she desperately wanted Antares to leave, to reject the offer of the crown and go back to whatever pitiful hole he crawled from. His presence was a stain upon the legacy of house Xerxes.

  ?

  The air was cold, far too cold for a day like today. Winter was still some months away, but with the death of Iliad's monarch, the land reacted in kind. Snow had begun to fall for some time now. It was the kind of day one would be spending indoors, not outside. And yet there were people outside, millions of them at that. The funeral for king Barranagan brought many from far and wide within Iliad. The death day, becoming a pilgrimage for many. A kind of holiness to prove their devotion to the king. To witness the laying to rest of a monarch, a Stygian one at that, was one of the rarest honors one could experience. Even some of the most reclusive of Stygians ventured forth to see his final rites read. That was the power that Barranagan Xerxes commanded. All wished to be within his presence. The beast of Aurum was unrivaled in life and now in death. But for as much as he was beloved by the people and his kin, there were those who were repulsed by his savagery. Such a day often brought all those of house Xerxes together. But today was not that day. The deep scars left by the dead king still ached greatly, and some would never heal.

  When Cirella and her children stepped outside of the castle, they were greeted with a sight they had never once seen before. An outcry of support by the millions of humans who had come from across Iliad to pay their respects. The city itself, Akkad, could barely contain the bustling crowds it normally had but now people were gathered making their way up towards the hill behind the city where the funeral would take place. In that moment Cirella understood the magnitude of the occasion and just what her husband's father meant to the humans of Iliad. She had heard many stories about King Barranagan from her own father. Admittedly, she scarcely believed them even if they were recorded by the Akashics, for she could not believe one mortal, even a Stygian at that, could be that powerful. That one man could be able to change the course of history on his own, such a man would be considered a God. And yet when she met King Barranagan for the first time, she was unimpressed. He bore a very docile appearance, and seemed to barely be alive. Even back then she believed he would die at any moment. But for some reason, seeing the broken man in front of her, she was captivated by his eyes. His eyes told a different story, and for the first time, a part of her believed those stories to be true. And yet in front of her stood millions, many never having laid eyes on the monarch and yet as devout as one can be. She looked upon the crowd, and warmth began to permeate throughout her body. The power of the crown was truly something to desire, and in that moment Cirella felt envy for the first time in her life.

  "Are they all here for grandsire?" Asked Loukas, looking up at his mother.

  His question startled Cirella, and admittedly she felt embarrassed. She looked at her son and gave him a smile. His innocent nature was something she was always curious about. Rather the curious nature of all children. Being as young as he was, he did not understand the gravity of the whole situation. His wide-eyed expression was admirable; always darting around and taking in the world. The soft orange, violet and blue that danced around his eyes glowed a soft hue when was fascinated by something, his reaction to the crowd was very much like Cirella's.

  "Yes my dear." Cirella responded, motioning them along the path.

  "Will this many people come to my funeral too?" Loukas asked.

  Cirella paused, trying to find an adequate response.

  "Do not... Ask such questions... Loukas now is... not the time." interjected Samara, chastising her brother.

  "Sorry." Loukas said, lowering his head.

  Cirella laughed slightly and patted her son on his head.

  "Oh it is alright little one, you will be even bigger than your grandfather. Many will come to your funeral, but it will not be for centuries." Cirella said with a smile.

  Loukas was not quite sure what a century was, but he seemed to be satisfied with his mothers answer and returned her smile. Samara gave a look very reminiscent of her mother when she would rather not argue and kept on walking. Their walk to the funeral was some ways away. As large as Akkad looked from a distance, it was even larger. Castle Xerxes towered throughout the land but because of its location and construction, it made it difficult to get anywhere unless one wished to head into the lower city below. King Barranagan wished to have his funeral on a hill to the west of Akkad and the Castle to where the sun sets. The location was nothing special, in fact to Cirella's knowledge, it had no historical value to the royal family. Almost all royal family funerals were held much farther north, in the great city of Uruk, the oldest city in all of Aurum beyond the mountains. It was a difficult location to reach for humans, as the weather and the path through the frost forest were not easy to traverse, but for Stygians it was much easier. She believed perhaps there would be two funerals, a symbolic one here and the true one farther north. No doubt this was one of Antares plans to show the people that he cared about them.

  On their walk to the hill, both sides were adorned with various trees, many of them from far away lands throughout Aurum and even further. Naturally none of them would survive in this climate but because of magic coursing through the soil in this location, they were all in full bloom. The snow covering the flowers and various leaves bounced light off them, giving the flora a magical appearance. One would be forgiven thinking this was the path to a winter wonderland and not one to a funeral. In front of her, her children played with the snow as they walked. She wanted to stop them, lest they get themselves dirty before they arrived. But she did not think it would be too bad to let the children be children for a bit.

  "What a lovely sight, isn't it? Shame it has to be on such a day, right M'lady?"

  Cirella was startled as the man appeared next to her. She could not conceal the surprise on her face, so much so her children turned to her.

  "It's alright children, go on ahead, I will catch up." she said wearily. She gave a look to the servant and she hurried the children along.

  She recomposed herself and gave a look to her right, matching her stride was a man she utterly despised. A man whose entire existence revolved around feeding off those in power. She had wondered where he was for a time. Thinking that he must have already been at the funeral to have him lurk around here especially near her children made her skin crawl. Try as the man might to conceal himself in the softest of silk and adorned the finest of garments, he could not hide what he was. His greasy hair was pulled back showing his facial features. His skin had a pinkish hue to it and when he smiled his crooked teeth did nothing but make Cirella's stomach turn. He moved close to her and she could feel his breath on her cheek. She shuddered.

  "Good day, my lady." The man said, bowing low.

  "What is it you want, Rodrick?" Cirella said scowling.

  "You look lovely, death suits you." Rodrick said, ignoring her question.

  From the day Cirella Xerxes met Rodrick Rokbane, she regretted it. A vulture she would never be able to rid herself of. He circled her and her family and picked at the bones of those who threatened them. Some would say despite her feelings towards Lord Bane, he was her greatest ally and supporter. As the royal family was divided, so were many houses throughout Iliad. House Rokbane was no exception. As the years carried on, factions began to form throughout the many great houses. With Antares' exile, those divisions ran deeper. One such curious division was that of house Bane who for much of recorded history had always supported the unification of Aurum under house Xerxes, but in recent history, specifically with Rodrick Rokbane, such a goal had been shifted. None more shocked than Cirella when she was approached by Rodrick stating he did not share the same values as his brothers Titus and Kenneth Rokbane, who had long been vocal supporters of Antares. Instead he wished to support Daimion. His reasoning being he believed Daimion would put Iliad before any such ludicrous notions of uniting the entirety of Aurum. She was hesitant, she had heard the rumors of the kind of man Rodrick was. But despite all the insults, the depraved things he made people do for money, or the people he surrounded himself with, at the end of every discussion Cirella had with anyone who knew Rodrick, they said he was the smartest man they knew.

  His influence in the courts could not be understated nor was his influence in helping Daimion reach where he was. And yet Cirella felt sickened at what lengths she had to go to conspire with him, a man she would rather never speak to again. Rodrick's goals were simple, he quickly stated them to her when they first met. He had no intention of trying to be perceived as nothing else but what he was after, but she knew if he ever achieved his goal, it would quicken the fall of house Xerxes.

  "Do not make me repeat myself." Cirella said, with weight behind her words.

  Rodrick chuckled.

  "I only wish to walk with you my lady, is that so much to ask?" he asked with a grin.

  "Your presence is not welcomed here, we grieve the loss of our king." Cirella responded.

  Rodrick feigned grief.

  "Ah... yes that, truly a loss for Iliad. Whatever shall we do?"

  "Show some respect. Lord Rokbane."

  "I have done so, when it was first announced he was dying, on his deathbed, and I am going to go pay respects now. Surely that allows me some reprieve to talk freely?"

  "Do not forget your place." Cirella said, scolding him. "Now speak why you are truly here." She continued.

  A moment passed, as they walked in silence and allowed the soft rumblings of the crowd to fill the air. Cirella had quickened her pace, they were nearing the end of their journey and she had hoped to reach the hill as soon as possible. Being seen with Lord Rodrick always spread rumors and gossip throughout the courts. Now was not the time for such tales.

  "Your husband's lord brother is a curious one, do you not agree?" Rodrick asked.

  Cirella noticed the slight on her husband, "My husband is a lord too. Do not forget that." She gave him a wicked look, "Why do you mention him?" Cirella said sharply.

  "Having gone through the things he has gone through, and yet still return?" Rodrick wondered. "Publicly humiliated and rightfully exiled for his crimes. And yet welcomed back. I certainly had no idea, I'm sure you did of course."

  "What is it, are you implying?"

  "Nothing of course, it would be foolish of me to imply anything. I was just wondering... It all seems convenient that is all." Concluded Rodrick.

  "What is?" Cirella asked.

  "Everything about the prince's exile and his return. I feel as though someone should perhaps look into it." Rodrick said.

  "And why is it you are bringing this to me and not to my husband?" Cirella demanded.

  "You mean the previous heir? And well that's obvious, he is not one to appreciate the finer details, such as yourself. Perhaps you can open his eyes to inconsistencies." Finished Rodrick.

  Although she would never admit it, there was some truth to what he had said. Everything that has happened seemed wrong to Cirella. The crimes in which Antares committed along with his exile. He had shown no remorse or guilt over his actions since, and yet he was permitted to return. It would have been understandable had it been simply to attend the funeral as the king's oldest living son. But to revoke the exile and announce him his heir once more? To Cirella that was a step too far even for the great King. There was no way this was going to be accepted by the majority and none more than the very elders who had come to make Daimion king. She felt like she was dancing to the whims of a mad king like everyone else and it bothered her. Everything about Antares bothered her, what exactly would be his goal. To rule people who hate you? Who would accept such a position? Her thoughts began to race and concern came across her and from the corner of her eye she could see Rodrick staring at her intensely. She tried her best to steal her emotions. She would not allow him to see her rattled. Off in the distance, she could see her children beckoning her. She stopped looking straight ahead.

  "Look into this matter further, and tell me what you find." Cirella said.

  Rodrick bowed.

  "As you command my Queen," said Rodrick.

  My Queen, she thought to herself as she left him there. Hearing him say it made her angry, the tone in which he said it implied many things, and none of them were pleasant. She had been aware of Rodrick's obsession with her, but she purposely ignored it. Better to use him than discard him, she thought. She and Daimion did not have many allies, and with that comes unwanted challenges from different sides. She would continue to use Rodrick as long as he was useful, but the moment that stopped being a reality she would gladly dispose of him. As she walked up the path grabbing the hands of both her children, they walked up towards the large hill, at the top they would hold the funeral and perhaps Cirella thought, this day may finally end once and for all.