As they exited the great hall of Agincourt they were approached by many congratulating them at the lovely event they hosted. Cirella was amused at how readily the other Stygian nobles were approaching them after so long. For weeks, she and her husband were avoided and shunned. Many acted as though they did not exist and dared not approach them for fear of catching the king's ire. However, since it was announced that Samara would be made Crown Princess and heir to the throne. So many had found their courage and voice to speak to them again. She forced herself to smile and accept their praises. Each of them were vipers hiding within such luxurious clothes. They did not know the lengths she had to crawl to pull herself and her family back into the graces of the king. She knew none of them could do what she did.

She looked over at Daimion who could not help but revel in the attention that now surrounded them. It had taken her so long to finally get him to return to Agincourt, only with the king's departure did he finally relent. She was happy, the handsome grin on his face warmed her. It was times like these that she was reminded how much she loved him. The way he carried himself in debate and in the presence of nobility was a marvel. The young mother wondered why they were so caught up on the throne, if abandoning such foolish ambition meant that they could enjoy themselves again like this. She would never have suggested the vile attempt to align themselves with such unsavory people. If not for the kindness of Antares, a day like today would not exist. The Stygian princess was sure the king was tired of her continued need to thank him for his mercy; when he returned she would make sure to do it again.

"Is something the matter my love?" Daimion looked at her with his passionate violet crimson eyes.

Cirella shook her head, "Can I not admire my husband?"

Daimion chuckled as he pulled her closer, "It seems I have been saying this regularly, but you were right that we attend Agincourt." The last of the nobles greeted them as they continued down the hallway.

"It has been far too dull without your debates." She smirked, ready to kiss him.

"This is only the beginning." He obliged and leaned in.

"Oh? How so?"

The sun caught his hair at a proper angle and the red blazed like a terrible fire. "With Samara as heir, slowly but surely we can rebuild those loyal to us-"

Cirella pulled away, "Daimion, you cannot be serious?" she looked around before dragging him by the hand to a more secluded hallway. "We have only just returned into your brother's graces. Our daughter is his heir."

"Do you think making Samara his heir means anything?" the king's brother stifled a laugh.

Cirella could not believe what she was hearing from her husband. She knew he was ambitious, she always did. It was one of the many things she loved about him when they first met. His desire, despite his standing among his siblings looked to be greater than all of them combined. So many nights did he spend filling her head with his passions and the future that he wanted to create for their children. where they would stand above others to inherit the will of Barranagan Xerxes. He had convinced her, certainly not alone, that Antares stood in the way of their goals.

However since his return, since speaking to the king personally and his actions towards Lord Aldios and Lord Omiros. She knew he was an insurmountable wall, an entity who existed in a realm far greater than either of them could imagine. Most importantly of all, thankfully, he did not see them as adversaries despite everything that had happened. A revelation that still shocked Cirella. Even still, here was Daimion refusing to see reality for what it was trying to bring down the very man that had kept them alive, kept their family whole.

"Samara has only been moved from a possible candidate to simply best of the rest. The moment he has an offspring of his own, she is no longer heir." Daimion reminded her of the truth.

"Even so, for now she-"

Daimion pulled away, "What is wrong with you Ciri? Have you forgotten who we do all this for? Has my brother's promises swayed you that far away from me?"

Cirella moved closer to her husband, placing his hands on her hip, "Have you forgotten that Samara is a Spiritwalker? If the nobles found out or worse the Elde-"

"You heard from the nobles themselves! Their concern is on the fact that Antares seeks to make a human witch the Queen of Iliad, the Queen of the Stygians, of our people!" He slapped his chest.

Cirella recalled the fierce debate among the Stygian nobles and royals about the king's journey south. Unlike the human aristocracy who were pleasantly surprised and even optimistic about the union. Many Stygian noblesse were blindsided by the revelation, for so long none among the nine realms championed for the continued suppression of the witches of Aurum than the Stygians themselves. And yet after so long now their very king himself sought to make one his bride? Cirella was among those who were shocked by the announcement and could not begin to understand why Antares would go to such lengths for a wife. She knew he sought the grimoires, they all did. Yet they had thought the manner in which he would begin to acquire them was through diplomacy and possibly war. Not with offering the Emperor of Aurum's daughter the very throne that held as much power as many of the other realms combined.

Antares' deeds were beyond her understanding; even if she wanted to doubt. She could not help but remember her conversation with little Cyrus. Antares actions were meant to honor his late mother, to bridge the ever widening gap between Stygians and humans, that is how she wanted to understand it, to understand him. However his action here was one that seemed to go too far. Cirella watched on as her husband only compounded the issue with his expert use of words to further highlight how Antares actions were more aligned with humans than with his own people. One she was not too fond of, especially because the king and the Stygians who supported him were not here to defend him. Daimion had no right to levy such accusations given what he and herself had done to the Stygian King some few weeks ago. Of course none of the other nobles present would emphasize this for fear of what the king might do. Her and her husband were effectively shielded from scrutiny because the king had deemed it so. Daimion knew this and operated with little impunity. Cirella was scared of what this would mean if brought to Antares attention.

"Why can we not just let it go my love?" she placed a hand on his chest and buried herself into him. "We tried and we failed. Is it so terrible to live in his shadow, if it means we are all together?"

"Yes! Because it is not fair!" Daimion yelled. "It is not fair! Why does he get to go unpunished? Because he is a Lord of War? A Storm Lord? The son of Barranagan Xerxes? I am too! My father's blood flows through my veins too!"

"Daimion-" Cirella pleaded.

"Why does he get to come back and rule? He kills Nykolas and father places the crown on his head? I reject his ascension and I am forced to embarrass myself in front of the nobles; to play the stupid little brother? He threatens you, my wife and makes my daughter his heir and my son his ward as some sort of favor? He mocks me because I do not have power like Gwen or Ana or him? How many years did I plead with father to train me, I pleaded with Antares to train me. But some fucking no name street boy shows up to the castle and he takes him in as a student? How is any of it fair?"

Cirella said nothing. The silence between them was far more deafening than the raising of her husband's voice. So much anger and malice carried in his words. It was the first time that she realized the hand she had in stoking the flames that now burned as bright as Daimion's red hair. All his upbringing he had been made to live a life that he did not want. His head filled with stories of the battlefield that his brothers dominated, the way others spoke of them or of his father and the strength he wielded to bring the nine realms to their knees. What child would not wish to follow in those same footsteps? Cirella understood more than her husband thought she did. However as smart and brilliant as Daimion was, she never could reconcile with the fact that as much as he idolized Antares and his father, why he could not see that it was a blessing he did not follow the same road that they did. Could he not see the immense pain and sorrow in both Barranagan's and Antares' eyes? Or did he just refuse to accept it like so many things?

Not long after his outburst did Daimion quickly feel embarrassed. Such an uncharacteristic reaction had stemmed from the constant need to suppress how he truly felt. He felt ashamed, embarrassed and most of all disappointed in himself at how he reacted to his wife's question. She was not to blame, the fault lied squarely with Antares, it was his actions that made him react this way. All he so desperately wanted was to protect his family, but he knew he would not be able to do that as long as his brother remained and was free to do as he pleased. However there was no need for that now, he looked at his wife, his beautiful wife and the only action that mattered to him was embracing the woman that he loved. Her eyes raised up to meet his and in them as he always had, he found the courage to speak again.

"Ciri, my love I am sorry-" he reached for her.

"Lord Daimion, there you are."

Both of them turned in the direction of the voice that called out.

Rodrick Rokbane approached with an air of dignity. His greasy hair parted down the middle and an uninviting grin across his face. Cirella cursed him underneath her breath.

"Lord Rokbane," Daimion offered a courteous bow. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Rodrick chuckled as he returned the bow, "Please my prince, my princess, the pleasure is mine." He stole a glance at Cirella.

"Get on with it," the Princess did not hide her disdain.

"Your return to Agincourt was in fine form my lord. It was a show to watch." Lord Rokbane clapped his hands together and nodded. "Myself and the other lords were moved by your words. If you are not too busy I would like to speak with you for a moment."

It took everything within Cirella not to strike Rodrick, she had thought since siding with Antares that he would have admitted defeat and left her alone. It had been that way for many weeks since the fall of Aldios and Omiros. Yet seeing him at Agincourt, his eyes repeatedly stole glances at her and now he so boldly approached her. Everything about him made her uncomfortable, he was a rat in the finest of clothes, one she looked to dispose of as quickly as she could.

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"Can you not see we are busy?" she barked. "What right do you have to approach us?"

"What right I wonder?" he repeated her question with a vengeful smirk.

Daimion stepped in front of his wife, "Please forgive her Lord Rodrick. It has been an eventful day and she needs rest. I certainly will."

"Daimion?" Cirella was surprised by his compliance.

He was prepared to defend himself when Rodrick spoke up. "If I may my lord and lady, it is truly no problem. I understand Prince Daimion how you must listen to the king's command. It was a shock to us all to know you were used by those traitors against him. I understand your hesitancy."

"Preposterous, I am used by no one anymore and I can do whatever it is I desire, with or without my brother's permission." He turned to look at Ciri and she did not hide her displeasure. "My love, I will see you in our chambers shortly," he caressed the side of her face.

Rodrick nodded encouragingly and waited for Daimion to walk ahead of him. With only a look and the slimiest of smiles he looked in Cirella's direction. "My lady, my greetings to the new Crown Princess."

Another one of her many mistakes was bringing that vile man into their lives. His hooks were deep inside her husband and she shuddered at what he and those he aligned with would fill Daimion's head with. She so desperately had hoped when Antares slaughtered the merchants that had sided against him that Rodrick's body would be found among them. The old lord was too cunning for his involvement to be so easily associated with the traitors .It did not help matters that House Rokbane were known allies of King Antares as both of Rodrick's brothers had served him. No doubt the rat faced lord had used this to his advantage. His constant smiles at her was because he too knew she would never tell the king of his involvement, for if Antares knew that Cirella had agreed–even if it was only as a ruse–to marry Samara off to him. He would have had her executed, rightly so she now believed. She hoped Daimion would be diligent in the company of those who only looked to serve themselves. Her husband walked with the deadliest of vipers found in Agincourt.

Cirella turned away and marched on towards her chambers. Her mood had soured considerably and she sought her children to bring her comfort in her time of need. She ignored all those who tried to greet her. Her appetite for socializing had completely been satiated and now sought to lose her mind in solitude. She allowed herself to think of Antares, by now his journey in Talterra would have been fully underway. Cirella hoped his return would be quick, which led to a reddened expression across her face. Once a man she dreaded and wished would never return, and now here she was eagerly waiting for him to come back. A small laugh escaped her lips, she could not believe her audacity to desire such a thing.

She quickly moved her thoughts to Cyrus, he most of all is who she wanted to see again. The boy had a curious way of looking at the world and she had grown fond of his time at the castle. The mystery surrounding him was an intriguing one, but one she did not care, for his personality livened a dull castle. Such were the ways of children, who could easily make the bleakest of days one of the brightest and most vibrant of colors. Cirella looked forward to his stories of his time outside Akkad, as well as his drawings and the sweets he would bring her and the children.

As she rounded the corner with a smile on her face, it dissipated as she saw the servant girls standing outside her chambers. She explicitly asked them to watch both Samara and Loukas while they were away. Lady Alena had been looking after them for some time and Cirella wanted to give the great woman some time alone. She was in no mood to deal with unruly servants and quickened her pace towards them ready to make an example out of the more experienced one.

"What are you doing outside?"

The servant girl yelped at the sudden appearance of Princess Cirella and fell to her knees with her head bent low. They both did. The younger one could not stop shaking.

"F-forgive us, m-m-m lady. Please! "

"You did not answer my question."

The servant girl shivered greatly and struggled to respond. Cirella could see she would get nowhere with her in her current state so moved back and calmed herself.

"It is alright, I mean no harm," she offered. "Stand and address me."

The older servant girl did as she was commanded and slowly rose, clutching the edges of her tunic. She looked into the eyes of Lady Cirella and blushed looking away. "I-I was commanded to by the C-Crown Princess." Her words carried so much fear in them, that it unsettled Cirella.

"Why would Samara command you both to do so? I specifically put you in charge?"

Before the servant could respond, Cirella made out the soft laughs of both Samara and Loukas. If this was a game they were playing their mother was not pleased by it. She dismissed the servants who looked greatly relieved by the action. They thanked her as they quickly went on their way. She opened the door and moved deeper into the chambers and the laughter of her children slowly soothed her and she debated on whether she should chastise them or not. It surprised her that Samara was so aware of her standing that she could order servants around while being so young. It was best that it did not become a habit.

"Mother! Look what… Aunt Anastasia did… to my hair." Samara smiled hoping her mother would be impressed by the skills of the woman braiding her hair.

Loukas ran up to his mother, "Mother! Can I dye my hair like Aunt Ana? She said she would do it if you and father said so! Please!" the young prince kept tugging on his mothers clothes.

Cirella's fear of Antares had always been rooted in her experience with the Lords of War. Admittedly in his presence never once–even from the first time she met him–had he given off that kind of suppressing and inescapable darkness and fear she remembered vividly. For all she thought of him, he was quite good at masking his presence in front of all around him. A trait of his that until now she had never truly appreciated. Again one of the many things that she had come to soften about him as time went on. Guinevere was the same in some ways, although her own attempts were slightly more clumsy; one could tell there was a genuine effort at doing so.

Anastasia Xerxes was different. From the first day Cirella had met her, she never liked her. The youngest sister of the king was a beauty that was so striking it felt as though one was looking at a being not of this world. She had heard of a princess rivaling the ethereal appearance of the great Antares. Truth be told she never believed them, not until she laid eyes upon her, herself. To Cirella, Anastasia surpassed Antares in that regard.

Which is why it was utterly bewildering that she felt such fear from the little princess the first time they met. She could not explain it but there was something wrong with the Crown Princess. She was too perfect, a kind of symmetry and precision that should not exist in this world. In that perfection Cirella felt the greatest pull of fear she had ever experienced, only compared to the day she first saw the Lords of War.

That was how she felt in the presence of the Supreme Commander of the Nightsisters. For some time she would have to prepare herself to be in her presence, because of an inexplicable fear of offending her in any way. So imagine the utter dread coursing through her as she looked on as Crown Princess Anastasia was not only in her chambers, but carefully and playfully braiding her daughters hair.

"First C-Crown Princess Anastasia," Cirella forced herself to bow as sweat built up on her brow. "I am-we are humbled by your appearance at the castle." She waited to be given permission to raise her head.

"When I left this castle some weeks ago, I was convinced outside of my brother you hated Antares just as much as I did."

Cirella flinched at her words.

"You made no effort to hide it and yet the king not only spares you during the purge of the traitors. But elevates my niece," Anastasia patted Samara's head who wiggled in delight. "To Crown Princess. During my long return home, the only conclusion I can draw is that you have offered yourself to the king. Yet I wonder, at what expense or rather whose?"

"Please Crown Princess do not desecrate my union to your brother so casually!" Cirella raised her head, her face flushed. The words of the old tongue were unable to cool her. "I love Daimion and would never debase myself like that. And most certainly King Antares would not allow for such an accusation to go on punished, even one made by his sister."

Cirella could see that Anastasia was not convinced with her answer, but she was unsure of how much she could tell the Supreme Commander of the Nightsisters. Her hatred for Antares was not small or something that could easily be discussed openly. Cirella needed to choose her words carefully so as not to put herself or her children in any danger. One did not want the Nightsisters as their enemy, not especially the woman who commanded them all.

Anastasia finished braiding her niece's hair and Samara rose happy with the new style. She spun around to the delight of her aunt and ran towards her mother looking for added praise. It seemed every time she visited the children grew ever so slightly and she blamed herself for not frequenting often enough to spend time with them. Anastasia hoped that perhaps that would begin to change, her home had become more pleasant with the birth of Samara and Loukas. She was strangely happy at their near infinite well of energy, a welcomed trait that she knew kept her mother busy and occupied so that she did not have to think about the death of her father.

Ana turned her gaze to Cirella, who looked visibly shaken at her appearance. The leader of the Nightsister had only come to recklessly frighten her brother's wife and learn of how she entered Antares' good graces. Perhaps even to learn how she could do the same, but her words may have been more heavy handed than she would have liked. Before she could address her the door to her chamber opened.

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

They ran to him and he picked them up, "My children! Have you been behaving? What is this Samara who did this to your hair?"

Daimion walked into his room and saw his wife standing off to the side, bothered, he turned to who could make her look like that.

"Ana," Daimion narrowed his eyes. "What have you done to my beautiful wife?"

"Brother dearest," Princess Anastasia waved with a soft smile. "You look lively."

Daimion placed the children down and approached his younger sister. "Do not deflect, what did you say to Ciri?" he kissed the top of her head.

"We were just having a pleasant conversation," Ana looked at Ciri. "Is that not right sister dearest?"

Cirella cleared her throat, "Yes, I am just tired is all. It has been a long day."

Daimion grumbled and sat on the large couch, he did not enjoy his younger sister teasing his wife. Many did not know it, but he most of all knew how playful Anastasia could be and sometimes the young princess would take it too far. More importantly he was happy to see her again, her appearance in the castle was a welcomed sight, one he was curious to know the reason for. He dismissed the children to their room and as they protested they looked to their mother for assistance who gave them a stern look. They stamped their little feet and marched along complaining that it was unfair, all three of the adults smiled at their brashness. As they entered their rooms, Daimion offered a hand to Cirella who lovingly took it and sat next to him on the long sitting area. His conversation with Lord Rodrick was a fruitful one, he would make up his rash outburst earlier to her later in their bed chambers. However his attention and that of his loving wife was on his dear little sister.

"So what brings you home Ana? Have the Weave Mothers finally grown tired of you?" A bashful grin appeared on Daimion's face.

"Something like that big brother," she returned one in kind.

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