He had ridden without a break ever since the news had come, only halting long enough to call for a fresh horse whenever his animal threatened to collapse from underneath him. It couldn't be true. This couldn't be happening. Everything had been fine when he left.

But that had been weeks ago.

How could everything fall apart so quickly?

Not halting at the gate, Cyrus rode his horse all the way to the palace steps where he dismounted and burst through the doors. A servant greeted him startled, but he barely even noticed. "Where is she?!" he demanded, "where is my wife?!"

More servants spilled onto the hallway, eyeing him warily or rushing out of the way as he stormed by.

"Cyrus."

His grandmother's voice made him turn and he looked at her anxiously. "Grandmother," he uttered in defeat, "a messenger came. He said... he said something had gone wrong with the child..."

Eurydice nodded gravely and held out her hand to him. "Come, Cyrus. We will talk." She wanted him away from prying eyes. No matter what happened, he was still the crown prince, and they couldn't afford to lose the support of the lords now. The situation was dire enough as it was. They needed Cyrus to keep it together.

Eurydice took her grandson's arm and guided him towards a side room where she directed him into a seat. Telling him everything would be hard enough.

"Grandmother," Cyrus said, "I don't have time for this. I came as fast as I could. She has suffered on her own too long already."

His grandmother drew a shaky breath and pressed his hands. "Cyrus. I need you to listen to me." She forced him to look at her and sighed. There was no easy way of telling him. "It started when Ariane was feeling unwell and she held bed, waiting for it to pass. A few hours later she woke up with stomach cramps and called for help." Eurydice looked down. "The physician confirmed she lost the child."

Cyrus nodded impatiently. He knew this already. The messenger had told him so. He'd been informed Ariane was ill with grief. It was what had made him rush home. He had barely given himself time to notify Darius. They were, after all, still at war. And he was in command of the army together with Darius.

But Ariane was his wife, Darius' sister. He needed to be at her side.

Darius hadn't hesitated to let him go, worried as he was for his sister. Cyrus knew the army was in good hands with Darius. And there were still commanders to represent Zeir.

"Yes, grandmother," Cyrus spoke, "I understand. I will be patient with her, let her know the fault is not hers."

"No, Cyrus," his grandmother continued grimly. Her face had gone pale and there was a deep sorrow in her eyes. "You do not understand. That is not all. It is true what the messenger told you. Ariane had fallen ill after losing the child. But after the messenger had already left, she took a turn for the worse. She turned septic. A poisoning of the blood, the physician says. There was nothing to be done."

When Cyrus stared at her uncomprehending, Eurydice sighed. Tears rolled down her cheeks. "Oh my boy. I'm so sorry. She is gone."

...

Torcan stared out over the plains surrounding Salvire. Last time he had been here had been on duty. This time he had the opportunity to walk around freely and take everything in.

He had forgotten how beautiful it was here.

A breath escaped his lips.

"Do you miss it?"

Mikos was standing next to him and was watching him calmly. Funny, how the only time the two brothers could talk to each other freely and unreserved was then their father was locked up for treason.

Torcan now looked at him and seemed to think for a moment. "Yes and no," he said, "it's my childhood home and I've been happy here. But this place doesn't fit me anymore. It's a memory. It isn't something I can go back to."

Mikos sighed. "I'm sorry for that," he said softly. He regretted never having known his older brother. They were only starting to form a bond now. He wondered what it would have been like having grown up together. To have someone to rely on, confide in, look up to. He liked his brother, but things sometimes felt awkward. Perhaps it was just his guilt talking. He felty guilty for growing up as the heir of Salvire when really this should be Torcan's place. It didn't matter how many times Torcan assured him it was fine.

Torcan smiled kindly. "You're doing a great job running Salvire. Having to take over command without warning and while we are at war cannot have been easy. Captain Mithridates says he sees your potential. And I have already seen what you are capable of at Salvire. This place will be in good hands."

Mikos turned his gaze towards the mountains. "How are things there? Do we have enough men?" They received reports, but not that often. And most of hem were addressed to captain Mithridates. It wasn't that the information was kept secret from Mikos, but he only heard the things he needed to know, which for the moment wasn't much. King Darius might trust Mikos, but he couldn't risk asking for military aid from Salvire. He couldn't risk letting a hidden traitor into the camp that might attempt to kill the king.

Mikos understood this and he accepted it. Still, he wished there was something other he could do.

Torcan let out a sigh. When he had left the camp a few days ago, they'd had the upper hand. He could only hope it was still so. "For now we have a strong position, but we can't drag this out. Winter has set in. It will be hard crossing into the mountains when the snows come. If we have to winter here without fighting, the men may lose heart."

Mikos nodded in understanding. Spring was months away. The soldiers might start fighting amongst themselves. Many were far from home. Alliances were brittle and only held as long as there was common enemy. Zeir and Lavos both had their own borders to protect as well.

He sighed. And then an idea came to mind. King Darius might not accept Salvire soldiers right now, but Salvire did have more to offer. Weapons. Food. Horses. Surely the king would reimburse him for the loss. But even if he didn't it was the right thing to do.

He turned to his brother. "Come," he said, "let's go find captain Mithridates. There's something I need to discuss with him."

...

He wasn't sure he had moved at all. After his grandmother had told him what had happened, he had rushed towards Ariane's chambers. He needed to see for himself or he wouldn't be able to believe it.

Someone had tended to her. She was lying on the bed in a pretty light blue dress. Her hair had been combed and her hands were folded on her stomach.

Cyrus thought she looked like she could wake up any moment. Perhaps that was why he was still here. Perhaps he was waiting for exactly that.

He imagined her joyous smile when she would find him here, next to her.

She looked beautiful

Cyrus reached out and took her hand. It was cold as ice. She had always hated the cold.

Carefully, as if not to disturb her, he stood up to retrieve a blanket and draped it over her. Then he sat down again.

Gone were all the thoughts about the war, about Balor, and the soldiers still fighting at the border. Instead, he was reminded of his mother, who had died giving birth. He hadn't thought of her in years, but now the pain he felt then came back tenfold. At that time he had already lost all of his older brothers, so he had been excited for a new sibling. But something had gone wrong. A breech birth, the physician had called it. His mother had lost a lot of blood, because they had to cut the child out.

Cyrus hadn't understood much of it then. All he knew was that now he had not only lost his siblings, but also his mother.

And now he had lost his wife. And his unborn child.

He hid his head in his hands and cried. The last time he had done that was when his grandfather had died.

"Father?" A small voice sounded from the door.

Cyrus wiped his tears and turned to the little boy standing there. Lucius' face was pale and he looked so frightened and small. How was he supposed to deal with that? He needed to be alone right now. His mind was a mess. He couldn't handle anything else.

With a swift motion he stood up and strode past the boy out the door in search of someone, anyone, to take the boy off his hands for the time being while he sorted everything out.

In the hallway, he encountered Lucius' history instructor, and he approached the man. "Why is my son not at his lessons?"

The man stared at him uncertain. "Your Highness, under the circumstances, surely you don't mean..."

"It's important that he keeps up," Cyrus said distracted, "he can't fall behind. Make sure of it." He continued walking down the hallway.

"Your Highness," the man bowed uncertain and flicked his eyes from Cyrus' retreating back to the boy who still stood in the doorway looking all lost.

A little further down the hall, Cyrus was stopped again by his grandmother. Eurydice sighed when she saw the lost look in his eyes. She, too, let her eyes wander towards Lucius. "Cyrus," she said gently, "you need to take care of your son. He needs you now. He just lost his mother. He's just a small boy."

But Cyrus didn't seem to hear her. As in a daze he walked around her and headed for his own chambers.

When he was there, he shut the door behind him and leaned against it.

This wasn't real. He was caught in some nightmare he couldn't seem to wake up from. But once he did, everything would go back to normal, to how things were supposed to be. He'd be at the border fighting, discussing strategies with king Darius.

Or perhaps he was still there. Perhaps the enemy had invaded the camp and he had been injured. Yes, that must be it. He was unconscious. Delirious with fever. And this was all in his mind.

Cyrus let his eyes go around the room until they landed on a decanter with wine. With determined steps, he walked over to it and poured himself a goblet. And another. And another. If he could drink until he passed out, maybe he would wake up and everything would be right again.

When he wanted to pour another drink, nothing came out. He shook the decanter and held it upside down, but it was empty.

With a curse, he threw both decanter and goblet across the room where they hit the floor with a loud clang.

Crossing the room towards the door, he called for more wine. If he wanted to drink himself into oblivion, he'd need a lot more wine.

Cyrus dropped down on his bed and stared at the ceiling as if he could find answers there.

Why? Why was this happening? What had she ever done wrong to deserve this? Why? Why couldn't he have treated her better? He could have spent more time with her. That was all she ever wanted. But he had always been too busy, too occupied with everything else. Perhaps the punishment was his, not hers.

He didn't look up when a servant entered the room tentatively and placed another decanter filled with wine on the table, but when the same servant kneeled to clean up the mess he had made, Cyrus spoke up. "Leave it."

"Your Highness..." the servant started, but Cyrus sat up and narrowed his eyes.

"I said leave it!"

"Yes, Your Highness," the servant bowed and hurried out the room. It had been a long time since the prince had lost his temper like that, but he had not forgotten what the man was like when it happened.

Cyrus walked to the door and locked it firmly. "I am not to be disturbed!" he called out loudly.

He grabbed the wine on his way back to his bed and sat down. Not bothering to pickup his goblet, he drank the wine straight from the decanter.

It was empty far too soon.

Perhaps he should have asked for two decanters instead of one. He should have thought about that before. If he called for more wine now, surely his father would catch wind of it and he'd get a scolding.

He wanted to be alone in his misery and drink away his sorrow.

He threw the new, now empty, decanter against the wall as well and let out a strangled sound.

And then he cried.

...

Iason took a deep breath as he strapped on his armor. Today, he would ride out to join the men in the field. Iolaus was still recovering, and yesterday the sad news had come that captain Aquilus had also fallen in battle. The men needed a commander, so he had no choice now but to go himself and lead his men.

He had given over command of the fort to Iolaus. Now it was time to ride out. He would only take a few men with him so he wouldn't draw attention. There was a mountain trail they would follow to meet up with the rest of the men.

"Come back safely," Iolaus told him seriously.

Iason nodded. "I will do my best. Take care of matters here. Make sure Vara doesn't worry about me."

Iolaus shook his head bemused. "She will worry either way, no matter where you are. That's why I told you to come back safely."

"It shouldn't be much longer," Iason said, "they are already retreating. We just want to deal the final blow and then we can all go home." He needed it to be so. This war had already costs everyone to much. He wasn't sure how much more of it he could bear. Maybe if he said the words often enough, it would actually come true. And maybe then he could finally leave it behind him.