It was a wonderful day in Akkad, the sky mirrored the vast oceans that surrounded Aurum–its deep blue hue was as captivating as it was majestic. White clouds leisurely crossed the sky as though they too wished to bask in the radiance of a perfect day. The winds carried with it the scent of nature and for the first time in what seemed like ages, Castle Xerxes enjoyed a subdued milieu. The absence of the king was felt deeply by all; it was a welcomed respite from the various political factions that all wrestled for his attention and favor. The only schemes that would be conducted now would be how best to enjoy the days ahead while they lasted.

Among all who enjoyed this neutral atmosphere, it was Lords Grygor and Aias who were most especially pleased by it. Their days since the new king had taken the throne of Iliad were relegated to background responsibilities that did not require them to constantly be in his presence. Despite being the Lord Architect and Lord Scholar respectively, there was no need for them. The king had no desire to expand the great city of Akkad or any of the other cities within Iliad. Added on to that, King Antares was an extremely well read man, whose grasp of history and its lessons he committed to memory. There was no need for them, as the king put it. A sentiment they readily agreed with. Of all the lords of Iliad, it was these two men who one could say were the most free, barring Xenon Xerxes of course. They held power in title alone, and for that they were thankful.

Today they had chosen their usual chairs by one of the small gardens that overlooked the city below. Each man had their favorite tea in hand and were attended to by servants. They quite rightly enjoyed the leisure activities of their day to day lives. To the two lords, they viewed it as compensation for their role–admittedly small–in helping King Barranagan vanquish his legendary brothers decades ago. A cataclysmic bout that had six of the late king's brothers face off against him in combat. Only King Barranagan's duel with the mad emperor, Dioxeyes Blackrose was viewed with greater importance. History would not remember their role, and they did not care for it to be known or recorded. They were content with the life they had lived. However with all things, sustained peace was only valued when disruption occurred.

Lord Grygor called for a servant to refill his tea, as the man approached he stopped in his action and bowed low. All the servants did, as their attention had now turned to the matriarch of Castle Xerxes who approached with an air of royalty.

"Lord Grygor, Lord Aias." Lady Alena Xerxes greeted them. "Forgive my intrusion on your daily…activities."

Lord Grygor turned his head slightly towards her, "Lady Alena, to what do we owe the pleasure?" he did not hide the dissatisfaction in his voice.

Grygor looked over Alena for the first time in a great while. He scarcely could believe this was the same girl he knew some two hundred and fifty years ago. Back then she was but a speck in a sea of Stygian nobles. No different than thousands upon thousands of their kin. A girl whose life would have been ordinary by Stygians standards. Yet here she stood, consort to a dead king and adoptive mother to the current one. As he recalled the first time he met her, she could not have been older than ten at the time. She looked at him wide-eyed, shy and naive. Yet the eyes she carried now were one that had seen a great deal, that had experienced a great deal. Of all those he had thought would remain standing at the end, who would have ever thought it would be banal little Alena Xerxes. The Stygian lord smiled, many saw the ancestors and fate as beings of great contemplation but to him above all else, they were the greatest entertainers throughout the known world.

"If you will grant me a moment to converse?" although it was phrased as a question, it was most certainly a command.

Grygor looked over at Aias who urged that they accept. The Lord Architect sighed and agreed. He called for the servant to refill his tea cup and then dismissed them all with a slight nod.

All three were now alone and Alena moved past and turned to face them. Her back to the city below.

"How may we be of assistance, your grace?" Lord Aias bowed while seated.

Lady Alena examined the Lord Scholar who sported a clean cut beard and narrow eyes. Unlike Grygor who had a shaven head, Aias had his hair cut short like the grass in her gardens. In the sunlight it looked like crystals had been embedded in his scalp. He was appealing to look at in an unsettling way, an alluring serpent that did well to remind one of the dangers of coming close. Both men were in their own right. Their appearance had not changed in over two hundred years but their eyes had aged considerably. As relaxed as their demeanor was, and how they carried themselves, Alena was aware she was not in the presence of ordinary men. Far from it in fact.

They were hand picked by the Elders themselves, that alone meant that they should be feared. They may have been council members meant to advise the king but ever since Antares had assumed the throne, she had her concerns about their involvement in her son's ruling. There was an air of strangeness that permeated through the castle, one she had attributed to the death of the man she loved and the foolish actions by her other son. However when it was announced that Antares would seek to wed Tereza's daughter, a witch, without even telling her. She knew there was something greater going on. Alena would dare not address her concerns with Antares, there was already far too much that he was occupied with. Who better to ask than the mouthpieces of the great entities that lived deep within the northern mountains?

"What games do the Elders play with my son?" there was no need for subtlety , she wanted to make that clear to them.

"Games my lady?" Aias feigned ignorance, "When have you known the Elders to play games?"

"Your son?" Grygor snorted, nearly spilling his tea on himself. His voice cold and sharp, "It seems the years have clouded your memory. No matter how much you have convinced him that you are, you are not the king's mother."

Alena shot Grygor a venomous look, filled with utter disdain.

"What Lord Grygor meant to say my lady," interjected Lord Aias. "Is that we are as much in the dark as you are."

She waited for an explanation.

Grygor sighed, the sooner their conversation ended the sooner he could return to his leisure activities. "It is no secret that we report directly to the Elders. Only a fool would think otherwise. Which is why since King Antares has assumed the throne he has sought wisely–I might add–to keep us out of his affairs. If we do not know what is going on, there is nothing we can report to the Elders."

"And the Elders are fine with this?" Alena asked, surmising the answer.

Grygor shrugged.

"'Fine' might be too strong of a word my lady," Lord Aias offered as he rubbed his beard. "I certainly cannot begin to speculate on their reasoning… but since Prince Daimion and his cabals… strong objection to King Antares. The majority have taken a wait and see approach with the new king."

"What Aias is too afraid to say," Lord Grygor cleared his throat. "Your true son's actions over the last five years, to further close off Iliad more than Barranagan had ever desired, has caused a division among the Elders. There are those who believe that Daimion's actions were correct in theory, however in practice he did not have the strength to truly grasp what he was after. While there are those who believe it is time Iliad stop pretending the other eight realms do not exist. The humans are growing in strength, it is perhaps time we guide them once again."

"Thank you Lord Grygor, I am aware of what Lord Aias was implying, about my son."

Alena did not allow herself to react to the words of Grygor. Daimion's actions had hurt her more than she cared to admit, for him to so defiantly and openly threaten the assassination of Antares, broke her. For days since she had tried to ignore the reality of it, to ignore what he had tried to do. She even allowed herself partly to believe what Daimion had said the night before Antares coronation, that his trust was misguided, that he was used by others to be true. However Alena knew better, she thought she knew her son and Cirella well. The matriarch of Castle Xerxes chose to do everything in her power to show a united front. That all was as it once was, but she felt as though she could not lie to herself anymore. Her disappointment in Daimion and Cirella was immense, further exasperated by Antares choosing to spare them of any consequence and even going so far as to make Samara his heir. To Alena, the lengths that Antares went for his family at times terrified her as much as she thought it was his greatest strength. For such actions often meant not only would blame fall at his feet if Daimion were ever to attempt to further sow discord among their people. But it would also put Antares in harm's way. She could not bear to lose him, it would be the end of her if anything happened to him.

" I fail to see how this marriage to Princess Reza Altieri is a part of any of this. We have allies who have far safer options to choose from. If the desire is to rekindle old allegiances, Ichika, Avalon and Laconia all have a plethora of princesses to choose from. Why would the Elders allow my son to marry a witch?" Alena dared Grygor to correct her again.

"That is the question everyone asks, whether it be Agincourt or the nobles. Even the other Stygian royals have taken notice my lady." Aias responded with genuine bewilderment. "It is truly unprecedented. There are those who believe it is a clear sign of the confidence they have in King Antares. He is the youngest to ever claim the title of Lord of War, an impossibility at that, and his flawless quelling of the Storm Islands Rebellion has yet to be forgotten. Along with the myriad of his other achievements, those known and unknown. His slaying of Lord Nykolas is a travesty, but the Elders have said nothing of it. Neither have they brought the contents of that faithful day to light. There is even whispers of the Final Design, playing a role in their decisions." Lord Aias could not help himself but delve deeper into his thoughts. There were far too many opinions and conversations surrounding the young king. To think after Hyperion, that there would be another so sought after. The blood of the royal family was truly divine.

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"Why are you asking us?" Lord Grygor looked slightly annoyed, his bald head nearly blinding. "You of all should know better than most. Or have you forgotten that Tereza Altieri once roamed these castle walls alongside yourself and Barranagan? She may not be spoken about anymore, but before you, before Queen Myrra, she was meant to rule it all."

How could she forget? Alena could still remember the day well over two centuries ago when she first met the raven haired, emerald-eyed, young princess witch of Lunaelia as she arrived at Castle Xerxes. During the waning centuries of the Stygian civil war and the mad emperor's reign, Queen Camila Altieri sought to align herself with King Menos Xerxes. In exchange for the protection of her daughter from the tyranny of Emperor Dioxeyes and his desire to make Tereza his concubine, Queen Camila sought to halt all aid to the Stygians who aligned themselves against King Menos. A tentative agreement that saw Tereza be raised in the castle alongside herself, Barranagan, and the bastard son of the mad emperor who escaped his father's wanton violence.

All Alena had learned about witches was that they were not to be trusted, that they brought ruin wherever it was they went and could steal the hearts of men. Even Stygian men. While Tereza had been taught to fear the Stygians, it was they who first commenced the persecution of the witches many millennia ago. Even if it were the humans that carried it out without impunity for a time. So it was not unexpected that both girls immediately disliked each other. Their disdain for the other further compounded with the fact that they secretly both loved the ever quiet and often overlooked youngest son of King Menos, Barranagan Xerxes. Their youth was a whirlwind of pain and loss, children growing up in near-eternal war. The only constant they all could hold on to was each other. Alena and Tereza started as enemies and then rivals. In time they would call each other friends, and in their hearts, sisters.

At the end of the war she more than anyone, even to her own surprise, championed Tereza and Barranagan's union. However it never materialized, both chose their respective realms over each other. An action Alena did not forgive them for quite some time, but all these decades later. The older she got, the more she understood why; in the final years at Barranagan's side, through a heavy heart, she came to love them even more for their conviction.

Had fate sought to correct a centuries old mistake by bringing Antares and Reza together, or was a more nefarious hand at work? Alena could not shake the feeling it was the latter.

"I do not need you to remind me of the past Lord Grygor. I lived it." Lady Alena held her head high, pain coated her words.

Grygor began to sip from his tea, "And for all your troubles, King Barranagan never sought to make you que-"

Grygor's tea had frozen mid air as it touched his lip. The biting chill continued out across the tea to the cup and freezing his fingers and hands firmly in place. An unfamiliar pain shot through his entire body as he watched the ice snake its way down his arms and towards his chest. In a matter of moments he had been frozen in place with expert precision, he turned over to see the same frighteningly terrified expression on Lord Aias's face. Unfortunately for the Lord Scholar his tea had made its way further down his throat and was frozen at an extremely uncomfortable and painful angle. He was choking on it. Both men could not move as much as they struggled to break free. They used their innate Stygian strength to stir but the ice that had travelled across their body grew colder and more rigid the greater they contested. Pointed shards began to grow outward from the frozen chunks that appeared over their body, moving glacially slow in the direction of their head. There was nothing they could do to stop it, as it slowly broke skin and drew blood.

"I have been gone a mere few weeks and already the state of my home is in such disarray? To think you both would dare speak to my mother, the king's mother, while seated?" the sound of her words like the coldest winter storm. "Is there poison in your tea my lords, surely that can be the only excuse? If you could even call it that."

Crown Princess Anastasia Xerxes placed a delicate hand on both Lords Grygor and Aias's shoulders. Each of them overcome with the unsettling sensation of being caught in the deadliest of spider's web. They wondered how long she had been standing there, her presence had been completely masked. Yet now it oozed with a chilling malevolence that threatened to castrate them with maximum pain. The mixture of violet-blue gold in her eyes, gave her the sight of a goddess, no less to pair with such a transcendent beauty. Her snow-white hair was styled in twin tails and the stars within them glittered like diamonds. The presence the Crown Princess carried was truly otherworldly, there was no doubt this was the sister of King Antares Xerxes.

"Anastasia…" Lady Alena placed a hand on her hip.

"Dearest mother, the beauty of the day pales in comparison to your image." The leader of the Nightsisters bowed low. "Please do me the honor of walking with me."

Alena was unimpressed by the childish antics of her youngest daughter. All the same she nodded and obliged. She walked past the terrified faces of both Lords Grygor and Aias. Her daughter wrapped herself around her arm and leaned against her mother's shoulder.

"Thank you for your time my lords. It was, insightful." Alena proceeded to walk on with her daughter.

They walked back into the castle and when Alena had deemed her mood improved, she ordered her daughter to release the lords from their imprisonment, much to the disappointment of Princess Anastasia. With the snap of her fingers she undid the ice binds that plagued the lords and a large crack could be heard as men coughed in pain.

"You are too soft mother," she bemoaned.

"And you are too quick to anger." Alena tapped her daughter's hand. "For all their faults they are your brother's Lord Architect and Lord Scholar."

"Were it Antares he would have killed them both, for such disrespect." Anastasia retorted.

Alena looked at her with a bemused smile at the thought of what Antares would have done. For a second they both shared a laugh, one that Anastasia quickly wiped from her face. She had briefly forgotten her anger at her brother. She was not ready to let go of it just yet.

"Speaking of your brother," Alena furrowed her brow, while Anastasia prepared for a scolding. "You have pained him greatly, and do not think coming home while he is away will absolve you of that."

"I have pained him?" the Crown Princess scoffed, offended at the accusation. "Do you forget what he said about father the night before his crowning ceremony? Or that he goes south to bring back a witch bride. Most of all have you forgotten about Nykolas?"

Alena stopped in her tracks and studied her daughter's face. As much as Anastasia carried herself far older than she was, whenever the conversation directed towards Antares her true age always showed itself. She had only just turned nineteen at the start of the warmer season and to many had been considered a woman since she was fifteen, certainly given her title as Supreme Commander of the Nightsisters. However when Alena looked at her all she could see was the little girl that she was, the little girl that Minerva had robbed her of being.

So much of Antares was within Anastasia that it frightened her of the anger and sadness that welled inside of the Crown Princess. With the king he had always done his absolute best to hide it, bury it, and she could never get him to bring it to the surface. Ana was the same. Only when her brother was mentioned did it come spilling out. The irony was not lost on Alena, that the only one capable of understanding her was the very same brother she so detested greatly. However the matriarch of Castle Xerxes did not have the energy to fight her daughter, not after all that had transpired to get back her eldest son and what she had learned in her conversation with Lords Grygor and Aias. Antares was fighting too many battles, the Nightsisters could not be another one.

"It fills me with so much joy to see you again, Anastasia. Your absence from our home is felt," Alena smiled. "But I must know if your return is as the Supreme Commander of the Nightsisters or as the king's little sister, my daughter."

The leader of the Nightsisters softened her demeanor.

"The king already deals with the Elders, our enemies who plot beyond our home, and awaits–we all do–for when the Lords of War are made aware of his ascension. However if he must now also war with the Nightsisters, let it be known. Strigga knows how much I have advised him against his anger for Minerva, for what he blames her–all Nightsisters for. He will never admit it, be it because of shame or pride, but he needs you more than Guinevere."

Anastasia knew her mother spoke the truth. Much of the debates that raged on in White Mountain among the Weave Mothers was how the king had scarcely no allies among the main three pillars that held up Stygian society. The Elders had their schemes that none could understand but the ancestors themselves. The Lords of War chose seclusion, and were unaware of the return of Antares. They most of all were the greatest of enigmas for what could their judgement be for his slaying of Nykolas? Not even the Weave Mothers would dare speculate the penalty if Antares could not properly defend himself to them. That left the Nightsisters who her brother made no attempts to hide his utter contempt and hatred for. It was them he blamed for the death of Queen Myrra still all these years later. Of course he had no proof to substantiate such claims, not even her own father could take the word of his five year old frightened son as proof to accept such accusations. Antares was effectively alone, but she knew that was not enough to deter her brother. Not a being like that. However she did not know if she could ever truly forgive him for what he had done to Nykolas, to slay a man she was once promised to. Certainly without ever giving her an explanation for, one even the Elders did not offer despite her repeated attempts to find out why. That they would even deny her of all people enraged her to no end.

The Weave Mothers were right, there was a great change coming about within Stygian culture, and they wanted her to cease the opportunity to return them to the favor of the royal family. It was in part why her foremother, Minerva, sought to make her leader of the Nightsisters. However just like her brother, Anastasia was not the kind of person who could so easily let go of the past, nor would the past truly let go of her in return.

Alena moved closer to her little princess, "I am not asking you to forgive him for what happened to Nykolas. I would never insult you as such. Nevertheless I am asking you to at the very least give him time to explain himself to you. Of everyone who knows what happened that terrible day, you know Antares is the only one who would not weave you lies Ana, he would tell you the truth." She caressed her daughter's face and held her gaze.

"I do not know I can ever forgive him, even if I was to know the truth," Anastasia professed softly, barely above a whiseper. "I do not know how Casspien or Typhon can, let alone look at him. The pain is too deep. Having said that… for you I will try. I am tired of hating him so much." She would not let herself cry in front of her mother.

Lady Alena nodded, and placed her forehead against hers. For the first time in years, when she looked at her daughter she did not see the Supreme Commander of the Nightsisters, she finally saw little Anastasia, younger sister to Antares. She offered a little prayer to Barranagan thanking him for the return of Antares. Slowly but surely his presence was bringing them all together. Ana wrapped herself around her mother's arm again and they continued deeper into the castle lost in conversation about the state of affairs.

"Before I forget," Anastasia recalled. "Where is Cirella?"

Lady Alena knitted her brow, "Ana you have just returned…"

Princess Anastasia did not say anything, instead choosing to rest her head on her mothers shoulder. "I only want to talk," the familiar look of indifference Antares carried now plastered on her face.

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