The journey had been a tedious one. The sights had long dissolved into monotonous filler that passed time. For as far as the eye could see, the scenery was lush green pastures for miles on end. With winter still some time away, the towering trees still carried their vibrant emerald leaves. The grass was vibrant and alive, and the skies as blue as the sea itself. It was believed by many–certainly by her inhabitants–that Iliad was the most beautiful of all the realms. On days like today, he found it very difficult to disagree. But as with many things, he learned that beauty often came at the price of great suffering. And his home did suffer greatly.

  He did not allow his mind to wander to such unnecessary thoughts. There would be time for them much later. Instead, he focused on the rhythmic trod of the horses that pulled the carriage. He found peace in that. By many accounts, he was known to carry an ever stoic demeanor, an attribute well associated to his people. But at this moment, he allowed himself a rare show of a smile that the task he was sent on was successful. A simple task should not have brought him such joy but given that those who attempted this before him failed. In no part due to their own inadequacies but because they show a more relaxed approach. It made his accomplishment of it more poignant. Granted the methods he used were slightly more heavy handed.

  As he shifted his eyes from the scenery to the man lying unconscious across from him, his grin widened slightly. When one was dealing with the Crown Prince of Iliad, especially forcing him to return home against his will. A more direct means were required, lest the point not get across. The unconscious man groaned and he smiled again. It had been a long time since either of them had seen each other. Circumstances and duty did not allow for a meeting, it was a convenient excuse that he used to explain away the truth. However for all it could cover, there was one thing it could not: the desire he had to speak to his prince, his closest friend. There was much he wished to ask him, much he wished to talk about. A thousand things that up until the moment he had seen him again for the first time in five years, felt important. But now? It felt meaningless. Not because it did not matter, rather, it all did but somehow just being in his presence again was all that he truly cared about. It was odd to look at him as he was now, no different than he was that day all those years ago and yet they had both grown in many ways; some apparent, others more difficult to discern. Had he wished to disobey the words of the King, he would ride off with him far away so they could be alone. To pretend if only for a moment they were not the titles associated with their names. However that was not the reality afforded to them, Casspien knew better than that. The prince's return was too important for selfish desire to take precedence. Far too much had been lost, and far too much still could be lost. It was the nature of their world.

  Casspien studied the prince as he slept, he was a mess. His hair was dirty and ruffled. The sweet scent of lavender filled the carriage, a telling sign that he frequented unsightly establishments and other night time activities. The rags he wore would barely pass as clothes even in the worst brothels. In spite of it all, he still looked as regal as ever. His ebony skin glowed with a richness to it that even dirt could not hide, much like his own. His hair was darker than the night sky. The suffocating ink black strands were illuminated by stars within, entire constellations could be seen clearly. A narrow nose rested upon his face, similar in size and shape to the King's. That was not the only similarity the prince shared with the King of Iliad. He resembled him in every regard, something even after all these years Casspien still was in awe of. The only physical difference between them, being the prince chose to have shorter hair, as opposed to the King's full head of hair. With his thoughts moving back to the king, five years had passed since their last meeting between father and son. He wondered if that time possibly had softened the King’s heart. It was more of a hope of Casspien’s than a belief. It was the only way to explain the king recalling his son from exile.

  The unconscious man stirred awake. "Am I dead?" he asked, voice smoother than silk.

  “I would not suggest moving so much. I may have given you more than I should have. What do you remember?” his captor responded.

  The prince rubbed his eyes, which seemed to cause him the most pain. “ Women… drink… I think there was a dwarf? Then I turned around and…”

  “You seem quite fine to me.”

  “There was another thing,” he was sobering up. "Wait…you fucking hit me. Yeah, you hit me,” his familiar glare sharp as always.

  His eyes glowed in the dimly lit carriage. Royal gold, deep blue, and a violet only seen in lilac danced around in his eyes. A telling sign, one was talking to a Stygian. Their infamous twilight eyes, a beauty that was only paralleled by their ethereal appearance. Casspien’s eyes were much like his cousins, the only difference was the raging storm that dominated the prince's eyes. Looking into the eyes of a Stygian was like looking at a perfect dusk sky of a setting sun, a gem in its own right.

  “Then you drugged me afterwards?” he continued.

  “It was only a few drops of Willow's Lullaby. Hardly anything to get upset by,” Casspien said dismissively.

  “We could not have talked it out? Like two reasonable highborn men.”

  “You and I both know, Crown Prince Antares Xerxes…you are neither reasonable, nor one who acts like he is of high birth.” He looked at him unimpressed by his attempt at reason.

  There was a moment of silence before the carriage broke out in laughter. Despite the lengthy time apart, both men were still incredibly fond of each other. He had only just awoken, but Antares was pleased. The years had been extremely kind to Casspien, Antares thought. Although the night before had been eventful for all the wrong reasons. Antares could not escape the sense of satisfaction upon seeing his face again properly, somewhat sober.

  Casspien did not want the silence to linger so pressed on. “It is good to see you Antares. Truly.”

  “And you my friend,” Antares responded as he ran a hand through his hair. He looked to sit up, as he took in his surroundings.

  “I wished we had met again under better circumstances.” Casspien said with a hint of sadness in his voice. "Much has changed."

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  The prince chuckled with a familiar twinkle in his eye. “Ah, you know, life often never allows the same meeting twice.”

  Casspien presented himself just as any highborn Stygian noble would. Antares had always admired that about him. Whenever he pictured the idyllic version of one, he always pictured Lord Casspien Xerxes. A man whose personality was as restrained as the clothes he wore, never disappointed. He wore the standard black attire that most Stygian nobles wore. It was sharp and stylized, capable of being worn on the battlefield or to a great banquet. The golden embroidery across his top spoke of his status among the noblesse as being of the purest stock. Although seated, it did not hide the violet waist cape at his side. Across it etched the famed serpent of House Xerxes. His boots were fashioned from the finest leather the quality apparent by how they glistened in the light. Even the golden rings he wore on his fingers shone brightly; each one carrying on it a symbol representing the power, authority and class the Stygians respected. Antares knew the stories behind each ring, just as any child of the same house would know. Casspien's hair was braided in such a finely delicate manner. The stars in his hair paled in comparison to the gold bands that held his locks together. The gold serpent earrings were also noteworthy. For if a Stygians appearance were not enough of a marker to tell you who they were. The serpent would certainly tell you what great house they belonged to. Such a striking appearance served to give Casspien an air of perfection, something that was not so easily achieved. Where Antares had softer features, Casspien's were strong and sharp. Not one blemish could be gleamed upon his flesh. His mere presence made everything around him lacking in comparison. Such beauty was not easily matched. And still in his presence, the Crown Prince saw an equal.

  Antares looked out the window, the city finally came into view. The high stone walls stood ancient and proud, they had served their role for a hundred thousand years and would do so for another. Carved into them the symbol of House Xerxes, the Great Serpent. It's visage salvation for a select few. However to everyone not worthy, a terrible omen, a prelude to annihilation. The path to the kingdom was covered in stone leading to a massive archway that served as one of the cities' four main entryways. Hundreds of people, some on horseback others in similar carriages like their own . All with a desire to make their way to the ancient city. Hundreds still walked the stone roads alongside them. Various kinds of vagabonds and merchants littered the side of the road offering trinkets and wears. Such an uncommon sight did not escape the eyes of the prince, there was much he wanted to say but refrained from doing so. The sight before him was unpleasant, but Casspien's silence even more so.

  Upon his exile from Akkad the royal capital of Iliad, he told himself he would never return. For there was nothing left for him here. So much had been taken from him, and even still, much had he given in her defense. The sight of his home brought back memories he had buried with the flesh of others and with drink. Five years he spent embroiled in the task of drowning his pain, accruing humiliating titles and honors all in the vain hope of destroying himself from the inside. He would have told you it worked, and perhaps for a time it did. But all of that had been undone as they passed through the first main arch of several, for here he was on his way back. Albeit not fully of his own free will, but all the same. The king had come calling, and Antares heeded the call. Had the exiled prince left not just the realm but the entire continent of Aurum like he had originally planned there would be no call to heed. But Antares could never fully leave behind his family, his home nor his kingdom. Perhaps that too was not of his own free will. So he remained close, choosing another city within Iliad to call home. For what purpose he did not know, but perhaps today would be the day he learned why.

  Even from this far away, the obsidian walls of the castle shone brilliantly against the backdrop of the dawn sky, beckoning his return. With bated breath he calmed himself. Whatever happened, he could not be humiliated any further than he already had been.

  “What does he want, Casspien? That he would even send you?” Antares asked, hoping to hide the desperation in his voice.

  Casspien took a moment to respond. He tried to gather his thoughts. He understood the magnitude of what would happen in a few hours, but it was not his place to say. That much he understood.

  “As I said, much has chang-”

  “Yes I understand, much has changed. But what does he want?” Antares said interrupting, “five years in exile and I hear nothing. So what could be so important, for the King of Iliad to demand an audience with an exile?”

  “It is not my place to presume the King's reasoning, but you may be an exile but you are still his son."

  Antares scoffed, his mood souring as he was reminded of it.

  The Stygian lord looked to move on seeing that reminder did not sit well with the prince. "But I will say this; we are in danger, all of Iliad is perhaps even the entire north. Change is coming... Now more than ever, we must be united against threats, perceived or otherwise.”

  Antares furrowed his brow as he moved his hair from his face. “Threats from where?” the word raised great alarm within him.

  “Everywhere brother.” Casspien exhaled, the reality of it finally dawned on him.

  In his exile he had learned of some of the threats his home faced half spoken remarks by women of the night while they shared evenings together. Through his self-imposed rule to remain inebriated, it was difficult to determine what was real gossip or something he himself had imagined. Even still the state of his home, his realm, the entire continent were no longer his concern. Aurum had enjoyed peace for far too long, and it seemed that the seeds of conflict were being watered. He did all he could to ignore the signs, but despite his previous state for the last five years Antares could still smell it in the air and taste it in the win. Blood. Nevertheless to summon him from exile was bold, even for the King. The Elders would not allow such desecration of their laws like this. Somewhere inside Antares, he was intrigued at what awaited him back home. At what his father was up to.

  “We are still a ways away, I would like to rest further. It seems I am still feeling the effects of the elixir." Antares glared at Casspien with an unimpressed eye.

  “Of course my prince,” Casspien waved his hand dismissively not wanting to meet his gaze.

  As he laid back in his seat, his gaze turned towards Castle Xerxes in the distance. He allowed sleep to take him, for the first time in years, he welcomed the nightmares that would follow. As they would be nothing compared to the vipers pit he was walking into. But this time as he drifted off it was not nightmares that welcomed him, but instead the hand of a beautiful woman, her smile like the morning sun. He could not remember the last time he dreamt of her, but he was glad, as he missed her terribly. Even through the haze of dream, he did all he could to take in everything about her, the scent of thunder and storms filling his nostrils as she smiled. There was a time she would give him the strength needed to face the King of Iliad, the patience to stand in the presence of a being spoken more as a god than a mortal man. In her presence, in her glow he found himself worthy again. As she approached, she took his hand in hers and they walked through a garden of black roses.