T/W: gore, violence, self harm

  "I thought you protective, my son, but never a protective coward." The Dowager Vixen scolds as the door slams behind a very distraught Aine.

  "Do you wish to deal with King Jimin as well as this nonsense going on with Hwang? Getting involved will only put more strain on Vulstis and its people!" King Min counteracts, his nonchalance wavering slightly at his mother's sternness. "I've already had Vulstis armour prepared specifically for her and Sir Conall," he addresses his Head of The Royal Guard, "will bestow The Sword of Vulstis upon her, should she have the opportunity to behead Hwang. For all intents and purposes, she is representing Vulstis."

  Sir Conall clicks his heels in understanding, and promptly goes to fetch said sword. Secretly, he's relieved to be escaping the scathing looks of Min Chinsun. The Dowager Vixen has the bravest men cowering in their armour, her and Aine are much alike in that regard- while Aine does it with her battle skills and weaponry, Min Chinsun does it with her lashing words of brutal honesty. The scariest part? Neither of them care what other people think of them.

  "She is a Vulstian, has been from birth! Have you forgotten what her father has done for this kingdom, what she was to you when you were children? Don't attempt to fool me into thinking you commissioned bespoke armour for a woman you care nothing for!" Min Chinsun is yelling now, face-to-face with her son, nostrils flaring.

  Sir Davys attempts to cover a snigger as a cough.

  "Now, are you going to be the coward king that stayed locked away in his tower whilst the daughter of the family most loyal to his kingdom rides into battle by herself?" The Dowager Vixen questions, slamming her hands down on the table.

  "No." King Min says, "my most loyal soldier requires backup."

  Lord Highmarch has been observing everything keenly, plotting his next move, but outwardly displaying a scowl upon his aged features.

  Aine does not have to suffer double the suffocation from Death, King Min relieving her from that torture as he finally allows her integration with the rest of the Vulstis Court Ladies, meaning she does not have to lodge in that harrowing room where every nook and cranny reminds her of her mother. Instead, she stays in much more lush apartments that are closely neighboured by more than just spiders and echoes of the past. Not that Aine notices. Although she has avoided Death's hauntings via her mother, her father haunts her very being.

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  She forgets how to blink, much like how Caylus Sampson's eyes are now forever stuck open. Open, but not seeing, just like Aine, who has them open purely because she is alive but is staring, blankly, at nothing. She heaves her chest in and out in an effort to try and remember to breathe, something her father ceased being able to do the moment his head was struck from his body. How does one breathe without a head? , Aine thinks, so she copies others around her whose chests seem to be going up and down. His bleeding scalp from the brute force at which they had sheered his hair off to uncover sins that were never there, Aine thinks that must be incredibly painful, itchy and cold, so she tried to cut her hair, too, but a clamber of hands grabbed the scissors before she even got the chance.

  Now, here she sits, at an offensively fancy table with cups of fruit tea imported from Nalentus and a bunch of women who care not for Caylus Sampson who currently lays cold and alone in his casket. She is thankful for the black veil concealing her face for she does not want anything more than to escape these women's dismal excuse for conversation.

  "Countess Linchman, you're looking ever-so-frail recently, don't tell me you're going on another diet?" Lady Bronson remarks, taking a delicate sip of tea.

  Aine lets her eyes wander across the drab scenery of the Upper Courtyard, not really taking anything in, until they land on the King's Quarters. Amongst the emptiness, pain, and sorrow, resentment bubbles. If only King Min had accompanied her to Coimeach Pass when she had asked, instead of cowering behind his emotions, her father would be standing beside her right now, alive. Instead, she's forced to sit and exchange pleasantries with these insufferable women. It seems the Moon God really does have it out for her.

  "Of course not, Lady Bronson. I haven't had word from Gaisceart Toll in weeks. I'm worried about my husband, he was patrolling near the abandoned mines with his men per Sir Conall's request, and I haven't heard from him since. I sincerely hope nothing bad has happened to him." Countess Linchman mutters in reply.

  Gaisceart Toll is the seat of the Nnidhal District in Vulstis and is where the majority of the kingdom's mines are, Aine remembers her father visiting Count Linchman once to tour the mines.

  "Probably sneaking around with whores in Tolltown." Lady Newfield whispers snidely to Lady Bronson, and the two chortle. Countess Linchman sinks lower in her chair, hoping to find comfort and instead being shot down, her worry only consuming her more.

  "Lady Sampson, you've barely touched your tea! The blackberries Nalentus use for this tea are especially good for someone with your current countenance." Braelyn points out, concerned.

  Aine almost forgot King Min had assigned Braelyn Highmarch as her Lady-in-Waiting. For what reason, she does not know.

  "People's lack of basic empathy at this table has made me lose my appetite." Aine states bluntly, Lady Bronson and Newfield look stunned, whilst Countess Linchman stares at Aine as if she's her saviour.

  A guard nearby clears his throat. "The funeral procession is to begin soon."

  Aine leaves the table without hesitation, making haste for the Royal Chapel. Braelyn is hot on her heels.

  Aine does not pay mind to any of the guests that offer their condolences. She collapses into the pew at the front of the chapel, fixing her gaze on her father's open casket situated below the statues of the Sun and Moon Gods. Preacher Elisedd's readings fade into the background as Aine follows a pattern of looking sorrowfully at her father's body, and then begrudgingly between the statue of the Moon God and King Min. She begrudges them both for causing her so much hurt, yet they both hold a certain beauty and familiarness that she can't bring herself to hate. Not anymore.

  "Thank you all for attending, we now ask that you disperse for the burial." Preacher Elisedd concludes softly.

  Aine has never seen the crypt. She doesn't know if she wants to.

  Preacher Elisedd leads her and King Min past the secret entrance to the Den of Vulstis Past and into a little lobby-sized room with a plaque engraved 'SAMPSON' above the archway. A pair of gravediggers have already removed Aine's mother's effigy and dug deep into the ground as generations past of Sampsons lay peacefully unaware in their graves nearby. Aine is too busy staring at the picture-perfect effigy of her mother to notice the concerned looks on the gravediggers' faces.

  "What is the problem?" King Min asks.

  "There is no coffin 'ere, Your Grace." the first one reveals, causing Aine to whirl around.

  "By the looks of it, there never was a coffin 'ere. This ground ain't ever been disturbed, Your Grace." his colleague confirms, running the dirt through his fingers.

  "Thank you." Preacher Elisedd says dismissively to the gravediggers and the guards carrying Caylus Sampson's coffin, leading them out of the room.

  "Wha- Where is my mother? You killed her! What have you done with her, King Min?!" Aine accuses hysterically, pushing him in the chest. He almost topples over.

  "I did...nothing." King Min breathes out, defeated. He looks as broken and confused as Aine. He shouldn't. He should look nonchalant.

  "What do you ?!" Aine screeches, pounding his chest again and again with clenched fists.

  "I never sentenced your mother to death. I had no idea about it. It was all King Jung. After I found out-" his voice cracks, lower lip trembling in a desperate attempt to hold back the emotional eruption about to occur.

  "You ?"

  "I was beside myself. My advisor had just killed one of my most loyal people, and all I could do was just stand there with a straight face. I hated myself. I should have been angry, crying, resentful. But I wasn't. So, I took a blade to my eye and-"

  "Cut yourself to see if you could still feel something." Aine finishes for him, letting out a shaky breath and clutching onto King Min's arms at this revelation. Looking up into his eyes, a single tear falls down her cheek, and she's stunned to see that one rolls down his cheek too.

  From his strained expression, she can tell this causes him excruciating pain, but she does not wipe the tear away, nor does she dare to comfort him. Crying is inherently human, and he must feel emotion to be human.

  "You're human after all." Aine offers with a crooked smile.

  King Min simply sniffs, trying to regain his mask of nonchalance, but the tears just keep flowing. The volcano finally erupted. And with it, so did the truth. Who else to witness it but the silent graves of the Sampsons and their only remaining descendant?

  King Jung kept forcing Aine and King Min to resent one another even when he wasn't around. One thing is for sure now, Aine won't rest until his head is on a spike outside Vulstis Keep, and King Min would be more than happy to oblige.

  ?　 ? 　?　 ? 　?　 ? 　?　 ? 　?　 ? 　?

  A/N: Well, this was a deep one! Sorry for the long wait, I do have chapters drafted, it's just finding the time to write them!