It wasn't how she had wanted to leave, but perhaps it was for the best. She looked at the boy across from her in the carriage. He still had a lost look in his eyes and barely said a word.

Hopefully he would open up a little after some time at Boncini. They could all used some healing.

There were a lot more people traveling back with her than there had been when she came to Auros several days ago. Then, there had only been a small guard. Now, there was an entire entourage. Not large enough to start rumors, but still larger than she would have wished. There was a guard, consisting of twenty soldiers, a luggage cart, a span of horses with a stablehand leading them, Lucius' teacher, and his wetnurse. One of the soldiers was leading Lucius' shabby pony by the reigns.

The king didn't want word to get out that the young prince was being relocated, so he had urged Vara not to make any stops along the way so they would reach Boncini by nightfall. It was a concession she made gladly, because she longed to be home.

Before leaving, Vara had gone to say goodbye to Cyrus, but he had locked his door and would not answer her. Through the wood, she had begged him to take care of himself, to call on her soon and that she loved him. All she could do now was hope he would return to his former self and pick himself up again soon.

Lucius' dog Tytus was lying at their feet in the carriage, oblivious that he was moving to a new home. Vara was sure he would like it there. He'd be free to run around the estate. He'd been born there. She wondered if he'd remember.

"Not long now," she told the boy, "it was your grandmother's estate. Did you know?" She was sure he did. His teacher would have taught him when going over the various noble houses, but she hoped to draw out a reaction.

Lucius gave a tiny nod. "I know," he mumbled.

Determined not to let him withdraw again, Vara smiled encouragingly. "Tell me about it then. What do you know about Boncini?" The last thing she wanted was for Lucius to stare into the distance all day . She had brought him with her so he could be a child again instead of having to follow a strict protocol all the time. Of course he should grieve for his mother, but she wouldn't let him curl up in a dark hole like his father was doing now. She remembered what had worked for Cyrus in the past. He needed distraction. And he needed some breathing space. Most of all, he needed friends. He didn't need to be coddled or buried in lessons. And there were plenty of children in the nearby village, and at Boncini there was Phoebe.

Vara sat back and listened as Lucius hesitantly began to recite what he knew of Boncini and of his grandmother Aelia and her family lineage.

It was a start. At least he responded.

The carriage came to a halt, and a moment later the door was opened.

"We have arrived, my lady," the driver announced. He held out his hand to assist her out of the carriage.

Vara politely took it, even though she did not need the support. She turned back to the carriage and coaxed Lucius out. His dog followed eagerly and started sniffling around excitedly.

"Tytus! Come!" Lucius scolded the animal. Reluctantly, Tytus returned to the boy's side.

Meanwhile Vara was giving out orders to situate their new guests and bring the luggage inside.

From the gardens, Lykander approached them. "Welcome back, my lady," he greeted her, "how was Auros?" He glanced at the boy behind her curiously, but decided not to ask for now.

Vara smiled at him kindly. "As well as expected," she said, "not many of the lords could make it, but they sent their regards." Her smile turned sad. "I'd wanted to return home sooner, but I was held up. How have things been here? Has there been any news?"

Lykander shook his head. "No news. Two days ago lord Prias' men passed through the area for rotations. No one has come back from the fort." His expression turned dark. It must mean that the fighting had intensified. If so, it wasn't a good sign. He feared for Iason wo was still at the border.

Vara paled slightly at Lykander's words, but pushed her feelings of unease aside. Later. She would worry about it later. Right now she had other things to take care of. "Lykander," she said while placing a hand on Lucius' shoulder. "this is prince Lucius. He will be staying with us at Boncini for a while. Will you take him inside and pick out a room for him? His teacher and wetnurse will also reside here. And call for Drusus to show our new men at arms to the barracks? King Marcos has sent them to us to see to prince Lucius' safety."

Lykander looked from her to the boy confused. "I see," he said, "yes. Of course." He bowed at Lucius. "Your Highness," he greeted, "welcome to Boncini. May your stay here be pleasant."

"Lucius," Vara turned to the boy, "this is Lykander. He is the steward and gardener of Boncini. His wife Chloe works in the kitchen and the household. She used to work in the palace, but when I moved to Boncini with Iason, Chloe came with us. She and Lykander have a daughter, only a year younger than you. Her name is Phoebe. They will need your help watching her while they are working. She likes to get in trouble, so you'll have to makes sure she doesn't hurt herself, okay?" Giving the boy a task would make sure he wouldn't isolate himself.

Lucius looked at her a little bewildered. Him? Take care of a child? He was still a child himself. He wanted to point out this fact to her, but she already continued. "I'll introduce you to the rest of our staff once you've settled in and have eaten something. I will show you the stables then, so tomorrow you can find your horse and feed him. You will do this every day and I'm sure Philip can find you other chores to do."

Lucius blinked. Chores?

"I'll speak with your teacher about your lessons," Vara continued, "afternoons may be best. We will see. Maybe two hours a day. Any longer would be a shame. Life is about more that scrolls and ink."

Lucius shook his head confused.. He hadn't quite known what to expect coming here, but this surely wasn't it. He wasn't sure what to think. This, he suddenly realized, was the Vara everyone talked about. The whirlwind that stirred chaos wherever she went. The girl his father had loved, the woman that left Lucius dumbstruck and stunned.

A light chuckle sounded next to him and he stared up at Lykander.

The steward of Boncini leaned over to him with an amused twinkle in his eyes. "Don't even try to fathom it all, prince Lucius. There is no none quite like her, but you'll get used to it. She'll get sidetracked soon enough and forget what she was even talking about. You'll see." As if to prove his point, he cleared his throat. "My lady," he said, "did you have a room in mind for His Highness?"

"Hm?" Vara asked, "oh. I'm not sure. Perhaps the one that overlooks the courtyard. With the apple tree in front. I'll have Chloe air it out. Is she inside?"

Lykander smiled. "She took Phoebe to feed the chickens. Should I get her for you?"

"No, "Vara shook her head, "I'll do it. Will you show Lucius around the estate? And bring our guests inside? Is there food ready to share?"

Lykander smiled amused. "Take a breath, my lady," he said while holding back a laugh, "we will take care of everything. Why don't you find Chloe and watch our Phoebe for a while as we arrange the rest?"

Vara let out a breath and the smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Lykander," she said, "that would be great."

Lykander watched her walk away and turned back to Lucius. He winked at the boy and grinned. "See?" he said, "no greeter scatterbrain. Let's head inside."

...

When people sang of victory, they failed to mention what a battlefield looked like after the war, how soldiers felt when having to bury their fallen comrades, the sight of dead bodies everywhere, the sound of a dying horse. They failed to mention how even victory could feel like defeat in the aftermath of battle.

Every victory knew loss.

King Darius looked around the campsite-turned-battleground. Even though they had discovered Balor's play fast, they had still been dealt quite a blow. If Salvire had not arrived when they had, things might have turned out differently. Here, the battle was won, but he was still waiting for news from the other battle sites. It was not over yet.

A few of his commanders were making a tally of the dead. Others were piling up dead horses and collecting abandoned weapons. It would be a while before they could all go home.

From between the rubble, Torcan approached with Mikos at his side. Mikos kneeled down in front of Darius and bowed his head. "My king."

"Rise," Darius said kindly. When Mikos stood up, Darius pressed his shoulder. "We thank you, lord Mikos di Salve, for coming to our aid in our hour of need. We owe you a great deal."

Mikos looked down embarrassed and shook his head. "I did what I had to," he said, "Salvire owes you more. I only hope I could somehow make up for what my father has done." He had left captain Mithridates in charge of Salvire while he himself led the men here. When Torcan had rushed his horse through Salvire's gates, Mikos hadn't hesitated for a moment and immediately assembled the men. He knew there was no time to lose.

"You will be rewarded immensely," Darius promised, "though it may take some time. I'd ask you to be patient."

"Of course," Mikos bowed his head.

Darius nodded and turned to Torcan. "I have no need for you for the time being. Get some rest. Go with your brother. Once reports come in and the tally has been done, I will call on you again. We can discuss with the captains how to proceed."

Torcan bowed and offered a grateful smile. "Yes, my king," he said, "I'll be available when you need me."

Darius inclined his head and walked back into his tent. He needed to start writing letters. To Auros. To Lavos. And most of all to his wife. She must be anxiously waiting for news. He couldn't wait to hold her in his arms again and see his children.

Yes, it would be good to go home.

...

Lykander, Boncini's steward, was a lot less energetic than his aunt Vara. Lucius followed him across the estate as Lykander pointed out all the side buildings; the mews, the stables, the barracks and training grounds.

The staff of Boncini all greeted him politely but kind and he started to feel a little more relaxed. Life here seemed a lot simpler than life in Auros. Less demanding. Perhaps spending some time here wouldn't be so bad. Though... he did worry about these 'chores' his aunt had mentioned. Did she really intend for him to do work? Like servants did? Or maybe she had been joking.

Lykander smiled at him. "Why don't we take a breaks from our tour? I'm sure by now a decent meal will be ready. You must be famished. I know I am." He steered the boy towards the main building. "You should know your aunt doesn't stand on formalities," he said conspiring, "I'm just preparing you, Your Highness, so you won't be startled when you enter our kitchen."

Lucius blinked. Kitchen? Was there no dining hall at Boncini? Surely there must be. It was an official estate after all, not some cottage in the province. The more he learned about his aunt, the more it piked his curiosity. She was quite unusual. Even more so then he had initially thought.

A little reluctant, he followed Lykander inside.

The kitchen was crowded and chaotic. Delicious scents of stew and fresh baked bread wafted from the fireplace. A woman was stirring one of the kettles. When they entered, she looked up and smiled at Lykander. "There you are. We were afraid you had gotten lost." A teasing glint was in her eyes, "or chasing after the goats."

There seemed to be some kind of hidden joke with that comment, Lucius concluded. He shook it off for the moment. It didn't concern him. Instead, he studied the rest of the kitchen. A basket with vegetables was on a counter underneath a large ham hanging from the ceiling. A row of herbs hung next to it to dry. A smaller door in the back was slightly open, perhaps to let in air or allow the steam from the food to escape, and led to the gardens. In the center of the kitchen was a large table with several seats around it. Two of them were occupied. One held his teacher. Achaikos was working his way through a bowl of stew with some bread, and bowed his head at Lucius. "Your Highness."

Lucius inclined his head, not sure what to say. He still felt a little awkward.

The other chair was occupied by Vara. She had a young girl on her lap, maybe a year or two younger than Lucius. The child was happily playing with some wood carved toys. Vara smiled at him. "Come, Lucius, sit and eat. You too, Lykander. Phoebe, this is prince Lucius. He is going to stay here for a while. Maybe you can show him how to feed the chicken later, okay?"

The girl looked up at Lucius curiously and then nodded her head. "Okay." Without giving him another look, she continued playing wither toys.

"My lady," the woman at the stove said, "are you sure it will be appropriate for the prince to eat here? I can set the table in the dining room."

So there was a dining room.

Vara waved her concerns away. "Nonsense, Chloe," she said with a smile, "there is no need when it's just us. We can easily eat he in the kitchen. Leave the dining room for when we have formal guests. It's much more pleasant here." She turned to Lucius. "Go on, sit. You must be hungry. Charis is putting away your luggage. I prepared a room for her next to yours. Achaikos will stay next to the study. I've been told that originally that room was kept for live-in tutors. We have come up with a schedule for your lessons. Let's go over that after you have eaten."

For a moment, Lucius could only blink. He understood what his mother had mean when she said Vara always caused a stir wherever she went, though, Lucius didn't think it was a bad thing. It was just... overwhelming at times. He was surprised however that Vara had already learned the names of his teacher and wetnurse.

"Your Highness," Achaikos spoke sternly, "have you already forgotten your manners? The lady Vara is addressing you. You should give a proper response."

Lucius flinched slightly. He hadn't meant to be disrespectful. He was still stunned and trying to process everything. Quickly he made a light bow, as was proper for Vara's position, a lady of higher ranks since she was his father's sister, and he not yet a crown prince. "My lady," he muttered, "thank you for your hospitality."

Vara smiled kindly. "Ah now, no need to be so formal. We are family after all. Aunt Vara will do just fine. Now sit and eat before you starve. Lykander stop smirking and sit already. Take your daughter. She 'helped' in the garden today."

Lykander sighed with dread as he picked Phoebe from Vara's lap. 'What did she do?"

"She picked 'flowers'," Vara said, "I'm afraid we won't have any rosemary for a while. Nor thyme."

Lykander closed his eyes and sighed again. 'What am I to do with you, my little gardener?"

Lucius still stood awkwardly at the table. They were all so natural with each other. There seemed to be no rank or status here, even though everyone addressed his aunt with 'my lady'.

A bowl was placed on the table with some bread . A spoon followed after. "Please take a seat, Your Highness," Chloe told him kindly, "if the food is not to your liking, I will prepare something else."

Hesitantly, Lucius sat down and tried the food. It tasted great. It reminded him of the food that had been offered to him in the village of Dalós when they visited Vara's friends. "It's good," he said shyly, "thank you."

Chloe smiled. "You're welcome, Your Highness." She wasn't sure if it was a good idea for the prince to stay at Boncini. If it became known, rumors would spread again. It wasn't that she feared for the boy's safety, Boncini was well protected, but rumors could harm someone just the same. She hoped Vara knew what she was doing. "I'll go prepare the room for master Achaikos now," she said. She bowed at Lucius. "Your Highness. I hope you will enjoy your stay here. If you have need of anything, please ask."

Lucius gave a nod and watched her leave. Life here would be different indeed.

He started to look forward to it.

...

It was over. Iolaus could barely believe it when the message came. They had defeated Balor. Lord Cassius was rounding up his men to make a list of the fallen soldiers, but they would return to king Darius' camp soon. Iason had already gone that way a few days prior to deliver an urgent message. The men that had originally come from the fort would also return there soon, though there weren't many left.

Iolaus sat down behind a desk and pulled ink and paper towards him. There were plenty of letters to write, and they would all have to wait until his men had returned. But the most important one would be the letter to his wife. Ophelia must be eager to receive the news. He couldn't wait to tell her he was coming home. He longed to hold her and see how his daughter had grown. It couldn't be more than a couple of weeks. There were still some things to take care of here. Wages to be paid, families to be informed, and the king would need to appoint men to manage the fort. Even when the war was over, it was still a defense line, and needed to be manned at all times. These men had fulfilled their duties, now it was up to others to serve their term.

He wondered how many of his friends had survived and how things were in Auros. Word had come that Cyrus had rushed back home. It must be something extremely urgent for Cyrus to leave the battle without hesitation. Iolaus hoped he could return to Auros soon to support his friend. His wife too. Iolaus hadn't been able to be there for her when her cousin died in battle because he had been fighting himself. He would be there for her now.

With a loving smile on his lips, he started writing.

...

He woke up with a headache. That on its own was nothing new, he always had a headache after drinking, and he had been drinking ever since Ariane had died, but the pain was so severe that he couldn't focus on anything else. Every slight turn of his head made him nauseous. Even breathing hurt.

Light fell in through the open curtains, adding to his misery. He would have gotten up to close them if he hadn't been so certain his stomach would revolt.

Cyrus groaned when he turned his head. For a moment his entire room was spinning. When it settled again, his eyes locked on something on the nightstand. A cup of water stood next to a small dish. On the dish was a little pile of powder that was used for pain relief. Vara must have left it for him at some point, or at least had given instructions for it to be placed there.

Cyrus let out a long sigh and ran a hand across his face. His throat was parched and his tongue felt like leather. Gingerly, he reached for the cup and mixed a spoon full of the powder with the water before drinking it. It tasted fowl as ever, but he forced himself to drink it all, knowing it would take the edge off his headache.

Carefully he put his head back down against the pillows and closed his eyes. A vague recollection of an argument resurfaced in his mind. Vara had been angry about something. How long ago had that been? All the days seemed to have blended together and it was all a blur in his mind. She hadn't come back since. At least, he didn't think so. He had been quite out of it.

Once the worst of his pain had dulled to a light throbbing, Cyrus stumbled towards the door. He scowled at the mess in his room, and he could smell himself.

Still slightly nauseous, Cyrus opened the door and looked for a servant. "Clean up my room," he ordered, "I'm going to the bathhouse." He'd use the private baths in the inner section of the palace. He wasn't fool enough to show himself in public in his current state. "Have food and wine sent down."

The servant bowed nervously. "Yes, my prince," and he hurried away.

Cyrus scowled again as he headed for the baths. He didn't feel like seeing anyone. He'd wash himself, put on something clean and go back to his quarters. He wanted to go back to sleep and then wake up from this nightmare. When he'd open his eyes, he'd be back at the military camp. Ariane would still be alive and expecting their next child. Everything would be as it was supposed to be, not this half-misted state where he couldn't make sense of things.

When he entered the baths, only two girls were in attendance. They dipped into a low curtsy when they recognized him.

Cyrus didn't even look at them. He stripped off his clothes and stepped into the water. Immediately the rest of the fog around his mind cleared away and he felt slightly better.

With a few strokes he reached the other side of the pool and climbed out to move to the next, heated bath. Immediately, a servant girl approached him to offer assistance.

By the time he was scrubbed clean and into a fresh set of clothes, another servant had arrived with food and wine. Cyrus settled himself behind a small table and ate his breakfast, though judging by the stance of the sun that fell through the open doors, it was already somewhere in the afternoon.

Not that it mattered to him. Days had lost all meaning.

While he was still eating, another servant entered the baths and bowed to Cyrus. "Your Highness," he spoke, "His Majesty the king has received word you are on your feet again and wishes to speak with you."

Cyrus swallowed his food and took a gulp of wine. "I'm not in the mood to speak with him," he said, "I'll call on him when I'm feeling better."

"You're well enough to bathe and eat," a booming voice sounded from the doors. A second later, king Marcos walked in and motioned for the servants to leave. They didn't hesitate, and withing seconds it was just Cyrus and his father.

King Marcos set cold eyes on his son. "In that case, you should be well enough to speak with me." He scowled. "I knew you'd snap out of it if she tried hard enough."

Cyrus put down his goblet and glared at his father. "So you did send Vara to bend me to your will."

King Marcos glared right back. "You only ever listen to her. What else was I to do? We are at war, Cyrus. Personal matters need to be set aside. You can grieve later."

Cyrus tore his eyes away and picked up his goblet again. He shouldn't have come out of his room. He should have just stayed there and ask for a bath to be drawn in his chambers. At least that would have provided him with some peace and quiet, and he could have prevented this confrontation with his father. "I'm surprised you came here yourself," he commented dryly, "shouldn't you have sent Vara instead? Since you know she is the only one I listen to."

King Marcos narrowed his eyes. "This is not a joke, Cyrus," he growled, "it's a serious matter. The people are all looking at us to keep them safe. We can't appear weak now."

"Weak," Cyrus spat, "grieving for someone is not weakness. There are families out there that have lost loved ones in this war, a war they did not choose. Are they weak too?"

"That is different ," his father said, "they are not responsible for an entire nation. I told you. You can grieve. But do it private and concentrate on your duty towards your country, a country you will rule one day. What do you think will happen if the people lose faith in you? You think you'll sit safely on your throne? The people will rise up. Your council will turn against you. That is how traitors are born. Think about your future. Think about your son! Do you think he will be safe once the people turn against you?!"

Cyrus gritted his teeth. "No one will hurt my son," he hissed. He wouldn't allow it. Not Lucius. Not the last thing he had left of Ariane.

"No," king Marcos agreed, calmer now. "You're right about that. No one will hurt him. Because there is someone that will defend him with her life. An she's doing a better job than you have."

With that, he walked out of the bathing area, leaving his son to dwell on his words.