The location of the Castle Xerxes meant that when the sun rose, its rays would hit the ancient structure before any other part of Akkad. The light of the sun crawled ever so slowly from behind the mountains to the north, bringing with it a growing intensity. It gave it a kind of brilliant dark glow as the obsidian walls reflected the early morning rays. The purple tint of its walls glimmered with a mysterious aura. Such an ancient structure stood resolute and unmoving as time washed against its walls. The castle looked as though it belonged in the realm of the gods. Daybreak was still hours away and yet as the entire palace was fast asleep, there were many servants who began to stir and start their daily duties. The events of the day before were surely to be a large point of contention throughout the palace and many servants would take this time while the inhabitants were still fast asleep to discuss and gossip amongst themselves. They would exchange stories of what they heard, and from whom they came. Those who served the lords and ladies who were in possession of the valuable news, raised their heads triumphantly as for a small time, they too wielded great power that was so coveted. But as talk of the previous day spun throughout the castle, one noble was wide awake, no doubt aware of what was to happen. For she herself was present when it did.

  Cirella paced around her room replaying the events of the last day. Sleep was something that never troubled her until she moved to Akkad. In the beginning it bothered her, but as the days and eventual years went on she became accustomed to it. She quickly realized the early mornings, when the servants began their day, before the rest of the castle stirred offered her momentary respite from the demands of royalty. In the shadows here, hidden in the dark she allowed her mind to calm itself, unhindered by others. It was something she always prided in herself, her ability to adapt to whatever situation arose. It was a skill taught to her by her late father and as she paced back and forth in her night attire, it was the first time she could remember struggling to adapt. She did not think the elders would so brazenly destroy five years worth of alliances and assurances made between different Stygian factions. She had always known they did things beyond the understanding of everyone, even members of the Stygian royal family, but to see it in person was something completely different. Her husband, Daimion, was useless, something she half expected would not be so glaring for all others to see. She was sure of it, to everyone else he must have looked like a mere fly buzzing around the ears of giants.

  She turned to look at her sleeping husband, they did not speak much when they returned to their chambers last night, both just slid into bed and turned away from each other. Cirella was amazed at how swiftly he went to sleep given the consequences for what just happened. Daimion had made an open attack on Antares, the would-be king. A slight like that was sure not to be forgotten nor forgiven, often repaid in full. She let out a small curse underneath her breath and immediately regretted her actions. It was not her husband's fault he could not do more; they had deluded themselves into thinking they had more power than they did. She stupidly allowed herself to feel comfortable over the years. The sense of power she and her husband wielded was nothing but a lie. They were merely allowed to occupy the space while those with true power busied themselves with other matters. Yesterday was a painful reminder that not just her and Daimion but her children too, were inconsequential. And that angered her greatly.

  She opened the door slightly so as not to wake Daimion and made her way into their living room, in the darkness she shuffled herself towards drink. She did not wish to start the day sober. As she sat on their large dining table she poured the red liquid into a cup. She smiled slightly at what she was doing, for most of the day she had to always keep up appearances, display what a true member of the royal family would do. But in the privacy of her own chambers, she sat in her night attire atop her dining table, ready to indulge herself without a care in the world. She experienced a sense of freedom she rarely had felt. In this moment, she was not a loving mother or a dutiful wife, she was simply Cirella. There was a time that was all she ever wished to be. As the first two sips slid down her throat, she allowed her mind to wonder what life would've been like had things gone different. She would have been the wife of a common Stygian noble. She would have bore him a child or two and they would have lived a quiet uneventful life on the countryside away from the politics of it all. It was a life her sisters were currently living right now.

  There was a time in the beginning she was jealous of them, the simplicity of the lives they lived. To exist merely to fill a role. Her fate decided for her from birth. She moved her raven hair to the side, exposing a serene soft face. Her twilight eyes burned with the calming sensation of an evening sunset. Her lips full and coated red, remnants from the wine she drank. Her ebony skin had a glow to it, no just not her skin, but all of her. In the dim darkness of the new dawn, Cirella glowed a true Stygian royal hue. She looked around her chambers, at the riches adorned on her walls and the various treasures scattered around. She examined the marble walls and the golden ornaments the candles were housed in. She looked at the velvet carpet that lay at the center of the room bringing it all together. Had it been any of her sisters, they would have been enamored by all that was around her. They were simple. She was not. She would not be distracted by all of this, danger lurked in the shadows all around her, throughout the entire castle. She knew where she called home was a pit made for vipers.

  The first cracks of dawn had begun to show through her window and some of the light caught her glass, the red liquid was a deep maroon in the morning light, it reminded her of blood. It reminded her of her conviction. She was the master of her own fate, she chose to wed Daimion, she chose to bear him children. She chose to rebel. She chose. And that was all she ever wanted. As Cirella sat there, a small burning sensation began to grow from her back. It never amounted to more than a warm feeling but to her, she could feel it slither and writhe as though it stirred awake. She carried great disdain for the shared birthmark of her people. An ugly reminder of their sins.

  She finished her glass and poured herself another one, she had grown bored with her thoughts of helplessness and self pity. Instead, she turned her thoughts to Antares and how she would salvage what her husband destroyed. Cirella did not know much about the king to be. Even before his exile, any conversations they had were short and filled with the usual pleasantries. To Cirella, Antares was as much a stranger as any other human. Daimion seldom spoke of him, even more so during his exile. Of all the hundreds of stories she had heard of Antares, many of them contradicted each other. She had heard he was a womanizer, and yet in the same breath she was told he had ever only loved one woman. Or another time she heard tales of his savagery, and from another he was closer to sainthood than even the human priests themselves. She knew the bards grossly exaggerated his exploits during the great rebellion by his uncles further east in the Storm Islands. Cirella herself had once snuck out of the castle to watch these plays. The tales they spun of him were far too grand, even for a Stygian. But Antares was a Lord of War that could never be denied or exaggerated. She knew all too well what that meant, what it made Antares. Cirella bit her thumb in frustration, she did not enjoy the ambiguity that surrounded Antares. But ever since his return there was one truth that she would need no clarification on; she was completely terrified of him. Everyone died in his wake, that was the fate for all those who stood by him. But she would not allow such a fate to befall her children. She would do all she could to save them.

  Cirella had enjoyed the wine so much, far too quickly. Her cheeks were flushed and she moved her raven starry hair out of her face once more. The thought of crawling back into bed appeased her and a thin smile crossed her face. However as quickly as it arrived, it dissipated with the soft knock at the door. She first ignored it thinking it was just the sound of noise from people stirring, but once again she heard it, this time more forceful. She was annoyed, it would still be a few more hours before the servants would come to wake the children and no servant would dare interrupt the slumber of nobility, let alone that of the royal family. She got off the table and silently made her way towards the door. She gripped the handle and carefully placed her ear next to the door.

  "Who is it?" Cirella asked quietly.

  There was a momentary pause and some shuffling.

  "I will not ask again. The guards will be alerted," Cirella demanded.

  "It is I, my lady... your loyal, humble servant." The voice croaked back quietly.

  Rodrick. She thought to herself.

  She did not want to open the door, but she knew better than to ignore him. His appearances, although unpleasant, always brought with it good information that she needed to know; information that she could always leverage to help her family. She had wondered where he scurried off to after the funeral, no doubt scheming behind the scenes with the other houses. The blow they received yesterday was a deadly one and one that seemed to prove fatal. Perhaps their faction may have a way to salvage this. She took a deep breath and allowed him in.

  "It is good to see you so soon again my lady. I hope you slept well." Rodrick said, closing the door behind him.

  "Have you lost what little reasoning you have left? Coming here so casually?" Cirella asked, heading back to the table.

  Rodrick snickered and it made Cirella uncomfortable.

  "Fear not my lady, I made sure I was not followed and I paid off the right guards to look left. Our meeting is safe."

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  "How would you know I would be awake?" demanded Cirella. Before Rodrick could answer she raised her hand. "Actually, I would rather not know how."

  Rodrick laughed again, approaching her and sitting at the table.

  "Before we begin, might I say... you look lovely on this beautiful morning, few could scarcely compare."

  His comments made Cirella nauseous, she knew he regularly undressed her with his eyes and what she was wearing although covered her, not well enough it seemed. She made a mental note to burn the night attire she was wearing once their business was concluded.

  "Speak to me in that tone again and I will have ravens feast on your innards while you are still alive."

  Rodrick smiled and bowed. "A thousand apologies."

  "Now what brings you here, to my room where my husband and children sleep," Cirella looked at him intuitively.

  Before he could speak Rodrick looked at the half empty wine bottle and back again at her. Cirella rolled her eyes and waved her hand. Rodrick snatched the bottle with barely a moment to spare and began to feverishly drink the contents of the bottle. A sight that made Cirella regret opening the bottle in the first place. Once he was done he placed the bottle down and cleared his throat.

  "My oh my, one could travel throughout Aurum from Avalon to Laconia to Vistoria and not find wine half as good as what Stygians make in Iliad. Truly it is special." he said, examining the bottle.

  "Rodrick, Get on with it."

  "Hm very well. I was unable to attend the gathering yesterday by the elders. How did it go?"

  "I think you are under the misconception that we are friends. We are not, I am in no mood for friendly gossip." Cirella responded with scorn in her voice.

  "Is that so? From what I heard you might be in desperate need of friends." Rodrick rubbed his finger around the top of the bottle searching for something.

  "From what I heard Daimion made some interesting accusations towards the next King of Iliad in front of many powerful and influential people. Surely your husband cannot be that stupid?" he turned his attention to her.

  Cirella did not respond, not because she did not want to, but she did not have anything to say. Even though in the moment she encouraged her husband to say something, even she could not have thought things would have gone so wrong.

  "... I am going to take your silence as him being that stupid," snickered Rodrick. "But fear not, all hope is not lost. Far from it."

  "What do you mean?" Cirella sat up.

  "When we entered into this partnership five years ago it was to have Iliad return to its old ways, no longer being a crutch used by the other realms to solve their issues. And the protection of your children," Rodrick began. "It was you and your husband who assumed the only way this was possible was by becoming king."

  "You do not have to recount old history to me. Where are you going with this?" asked Cirella.

  "Would you say over the last five years we have worked to bring that reality closer?" Rodrick took a napkin from his pocket and cleaned his lips.

  "I would say yes... Our partnership has been beneficial for both my family and our supporters." Cirella responded hesitantly.

  Rodrick clasped his hand together and smiled.

  "Good, good. But you see my lady, truth be told our concern is not whether you sit on the throne or not. For that is not where power was held," he began. "Was your husband not Lord Regent during those five years?"

  Cirella did not need to respond for Rodrick to know she understood what he was getting at. It was true over the last five years Daimion did not sit on the throne, it was still the late king Barranagan. Yet in his worsening health, it was the Lord Regent who assumed power. And the current Lord Regent was Daimion Xerxes. The line of succession for Lord Regent was different from that of the crown. While the crown followed traditional Stygian lines, the Lord Regent was a position that was appointed rather than inherited. Even in his weakened state Barranagan was no fool and understood he had no choice but to make his eldest remaining son Lord Regent for what would those think of the royal succession if once again the king could not retain an heir for the third time.

  "Of course!" Cirella exclaimed before covering her mouth with her hands. They both remained quiet waiting to see if her outburst stirred anyone. Moments past and all remained silent. She recomposed herself.

  "Of course, my husband is the current Lord Regent, a position many have argued is as powerful as the king depending on the situation." She finished.

  "Why yes of course, and what better person to help the next king than his own brother who has already ruled for the last five years?" Rodrick nodded his head triumphantly. "We can spin the outburst yesterday under the guise of Lord Daimion being emotional and overzealous. As his father had recently passed away."

  A smile began to cross Cirella's face. This is why she allowed Rodrick to ingratiate himself with her. Despite his personality and his general unpleasantness, his intellect could not be argued. There was hope for her children, all was not lost.

  "B-but will Antares accept this?" she asked softly.

  "He has no choice. The would-be king has spent the last five years drunk and fucking whores in the largest city in all of Iliad. His exploits are well known and that cannot be simply excused. Right now his main goal is to prove to his people he is fit to be king, he cannot afford discord within his castle." Rodrick said, with a toothy smile.

  Cirella took a moment to think about the words, she did not want to simply go along just because he was saying what she wanted to hear, but instead truly see if this was the only outcome, she was tired of being surprised. Antares' exploits outside of Akkad had been well documented; the exiled prince was said to have been completely consumed by the pleasures of the great city of Kish. A city constructed with the single purpose of being everything the Stygians were not. It was a place where those who wished to lose themselves in the decadence of the flesh would flock to, for in that city there was no judgment, no rules, no Gods, only pleasure.

  "What do you need from me?" asked Cirella.

  "To do what you always have done, advise your husband and keep him from making a fool of himself." Rodrick replied candidly.

  "I can do that...Thank you Rodrick, your assistance has been invaluable."

  Although he tried to hide it, a smile could not help but escape from the corner of his mouth. Their conversation had already dragged on longer than Cirella would have liked, daybreak was in full swing and her family would be stirring soon. Rodrick seemed to be of the same mind as he stood up and made way towards the door. This little man she thought to herself had granted her an avenue of hope, there was still a chance her family could be saved. Despite what little she knew of Antares, she knew that he valued his family above all else. That was good, she could use that to ensure the safety of her children from all harm.

  "Ah, one more thing," Rodrick had opened the door slightly.

  A quizzical look came across Cirella's face.

  "About my terms in our little deal, I hope things are still progressing well? All of this is for the safety of my bride-to-be."

  It took every ounce of restraint within Cirella to not strike the back of his head. The manner in which he spoke about Samara, her daughter filled her with rage. His words twisted into her like the finest of blades. She cursed herself for allowing to forget momentarily that his aid came at a steep price; a price that she would not have made had she not been so desperate. The fear she felt years ago forced her to make a rash decision, to align herself with a group that could protect them, for if even the crown prince could be exiled and stripped of his titles, what would happen to her and her children if they stepped out of line, or were not useful? She shuddered at the thought back then.

  "Of course... She is still young, there is still much time before such things like marriage can be discussed." Cirella forced herself to say.

  She could not see his face so she had no way to know what he was thinking or how he was feeling. She was annoyed he brought this up now with his back turned.

  "Hmm yes quite right. But we must not dally, better for her to get used to me sooner rather than later. Have a wonderful morning my queen." Before she could respond, Rodrick had already left.

  Cirella quickly closed the door and locked it. She turned her back to the door and with no strength in her legs she slid to the floor and tears filled her eyes. She steadied her breathing and took great care in calming herself down. The children would be up soon and she did not want them to think anything was wrong. At that moment she offered a prayer to Strigga for guidance and forgiveness. Weakness was something she never associated with herself yet it was something she often felt, but she knew no matter what, no matter the outcome of everything that was to come she would never give her daughter to Rodrick. She would sooner rob Samara of her future than cosign her to a future where Rodrick Rokbane be her husband. She composed herself, there was still time, Samara was only seven years young, more than enough time to gain enough power to dispose of Rodrick. He was soon reaching the end of his usefulness.

  Unbeknownst to Cirella, Rodrick was thinking the same thing. Over the last five years he had expertly ingratiated himself into her family, took advantage of her at her most vulnerable. Truthfully they had outlived their usefulness. Of the options to attach himself to, they were the easiest to approach but with the return of the true king, it had complicated matters. Nevertheless everything was still under his control, everything was still within every possibility he could manage. He would not lose, he could not lose. A crooked smile came across his face, in the end he would show them his value, his magnificence.