In this grand, great hall, I'd danced with Hadrian and kissed him for the first time. In this great hall, I'd attended a grand party hours after my death, all in my honour. Now the hall has changed, and instead of a ballroom, a long banquet table is prepared for dinner.

A silver tablecloth sits atop a splendid oak table. Along the middle, small displays of flowers run up and down the length of the table. In total, only about fifteen place mats are set, but each seems like such a work of art.

As Sybella and I step through the double doors, we make little entrance. Already gathered at the table is a small group of men and women: I spot Hadrian immediately, in a smart midnight suit, in animated conversation with a young man I'd not seen before. My gaze rakes over Hadrian, the way his crisp collar amplifies his jawline, filled with a dark, rugged stubble, and the purple shadows beneath his eyes.

My attention is pulled back to the man next to him as he takes his turn to speak, gesturing wildly. His hair is a similar muddy colour to mine, and his expression is even grumpier than my husband's. As Hadrian speaks, the man rolls his eyes in an exaggerated manner, and I bristle at the rudeness from across the room.

Surrounding Hadrian are a few other older gentlemen, including Jefferson. I smirk as I realise that there's a familiar blond boy still stood among them, with an elfin face and bright green eyes that dart up to stare at me. Poor Quillan looks ready to fall asleep, and in desperate need of saving. I make a mental note not to sit down their end of the table, and look in the opposite direction, only to scowl at the familiar gaggle of women.

In this grand, great hall I'd first met Ginger and the other ladies surrounding her, on that first ball. In fact, it had been Hadrian's engagement party, technically, and yet she'd still been trying to steal him. My presence had not been appreciated then and I doubt that it will be any different now. If I'm ever Queen, I'd put money on things still not changing her attitude.

"Ginger" is a nickname-- I have no idea what her real name is, and I have no desire to know. However, something irks me even more than Jefferson's jokes, and that's Ginger, sitting opposite Hadrian and shooting glances at him coyly.

Thank hell, Hadrian seems oblivious.

One person spots us as soon as we enter, but doesn't make a sound. Quill. His eyes watch me, his expression neither angry nor hopeful. I can't even tell if he's pissed that I left him with Jefferson's bad puns.   

One by one, our steps towards the table draw attention. First, it's the boy I don't know, sat next to Hadrian and in deep conversation. His eyes flicker up, hovering over Sybella, and then resting on me. He pauses.

Then, Ginger glances up and narrows her eyes. She's frustratingly delicate, with porcelain skin and gentle red hair in waves. An emerald green dress robe wraps around her body, hugging against her breasts and over one shoulder.

The girls around her aren't recollectable; I don't recognise any of them as my eyes scan over them.  A young girl with a pixie cut of black, shiny hair drums her fingers on the table, bored. There's a roughness about her face that's fierce, and she's dressed in dark blue robes, cinched at the waist. On the opposite side sits the third girl; if Ginger is willowy and the dark-haired girl fierce, then this girl is cold. Her stare is distant, grey eyes looking straight through me. Her arms are folded. Her own uniform is red, and of similar material to the other two girls', but with a high-necked cut and long, tight sleeves. It cropped at her lower ribs, revealling a muscular, toned stomach.

The black haired girl is eerily still; her head cocks to one side, and she regards me like a predator planning how best to capture and kill its prey. The girl with the cold eyes tosses her long, thick brown hair.

Jefferson turns, following Quillan's stare, and lets out an exciteable noise. Quillan forgotten, he leaps from his chair to greet us.

Finally, Hadrian turns to look behind him to see what everyone's looking at.

I'm standing only a few metres from him when our eyes meet.

Drum drum drum. My heart throbs painfully as I'm reminded of our argument, the last time we'd looked at one another. My throat tightens, and I fight the urge to clutch at my arms. Hadrian's eyes quickly look down at my dress, and then he swallows, throat bobbing.

Does he like it? I think, forcing myself not to also look down at my attire. Then, I remember a time when I'd worn nothing but underwear in front of him, and still not given a damn what he thought.

Why can't I be that bold young woman now? I am not so cowed as to care only about my husband's opinion of me.

I tip up my chin, straighten my shoulders. I walked off a cliff, and never once looked back. I keep looking at Hadrian, keep letting the room watch our interaction. Especially Ginger. When he looks back up from admiring my dress, I give him a small smile.

Keep walking, I tell myself in silence. Each footstep I take is echoed by Sybella, a second behind me. It's only a few seconds until we're met by a flustered Jefferson, who is apologising over and over that we'd had to walk across the hall by ourselves. I bite back a comment about needing a map, instead patting his hand as though I care. He beams.

'You look radiant,' Jefferson says, glancing back towards his king with a knowing look. 'Does she not look stunning, your highness?'

There's a pause as Hadrian looks at me with enormous, wide eyes,  and his mouth opens and closes shut, then opens again. Not a sound comes out, and my teeth clench. Why in Hell's name isn't he saying anything?

Then, from the other side of the table, I hear a quiet but firm voice.

'She looks like the dawning of spring after a bitter winter,' Quillan murmurs. 'I don't think "radiant" quite does it justice.'

Everyone looks around in shock at the upstart, Jefferson included. I roll my eyes-- and pause, realising that the brown-haired man beside Hadrian is watching me, an eyebrow raised. Hadrian turns slowly, and the room becomes ever so slightly quieter as his gaze creeps onto Quill's.

'Thank you, dear guest,' Hadrian says, his voice low. 'I, however, do not think of my wife in terms of how she looks and dresses. Her soul itself is spring after my lifetime of winter. I pray you do not insult her again by saying she merely looks like it.'

My chest squeezes. Here is where I need to have a witty retort that makes the room explode in laughter. Here is where I make my point that I can speak for myself. But Hadrian's words are so eloquent, and seem so heartfelt, that I'm choked by his speech.

Seeing my flustered and shaky state, the old man beside me smiles the same knowing smile he'd shot at Hadrian.

'Let me show you to your seat,' Jefferson offers.

'Thank you,' I say, and I'm still stunned. Jefferson guides me to a seat far from Quillan, I notice, but close to Ginger and her two sidekicks. They shoot frustrated yet triumphant looks; for all that Hadrian spoke, I'm not sat next to him as a wife would be.

Sybella, at my side, whispers low. 'Command, and a Queen you shall be.'

I don't know if she's speaking in prophecy or as a friend. Nervous now, I halt with my hand on the chair, ready to sit down, and Jefferson giving me a look of innocent confusion.

'My seat should be beside my husband,' I say. 'Might I trouble you to swap seats?'

I aim this last question at the man I don't know, the one who'd pulled a face at Hadrian's words. If he's surprised by my request, he doesn't show it. Instead, he leans over his chair as he stands, extending a hand.

'My name is Char,' he says, shooting me a smile through a bristled beard. The smile is lopsided, although seems sincere.

I take his hand. 'Nerissa.'

'I'm the Captain of the Ferrymen,' Char continues, shaking my hand once before releasing it. He steps around the chair.

'Weren't the Ferrymen being attacked?' I asked, subconsicously glancing towards Hadrian. I don't need to; Char sighs and nods, pulling at the hair around his temples. I can see hairs of grey already starting to grow there.

'Yes,' he replies, 'I've lost a number of good souls.'

'I'm very sorry for your loss,' I say softly, and allowing the pause that filled the air to continue.

Char gives me a surprised look, as if condolences were the last thing he'd expected.

I shrug. 'Hecate killed your people, just as she manipulated and killed people I care about. I empathise with that.'

'Well, you're nothing like I expected,' the Ferryman declares. I don't notice the look he passes Hadrian. 'This man told me that you're stubborn, difficult and hard to get along with.'

I smile sweetly. 'Are you sure he wasn't talking about himself?'

The table snickers; Jefferson claps his hands. I don't look at Hadrian as I take a seat, Char laughing and swapping places. He sits next to Sybella, and the two begin discussing the new placements of the Ferrymen to best convey the souls.

As I sit, Ginger's face snaps into a smiling canvas as Hadrian turns to introduce me.

'Nerissa, this is Megara. She's a special...guardian of Minoa,' Hadrian says, his words selected carefully. I have to wonder what he means by "guardian" and whether it's as ominous as the look she's giving me.

Megara. Even her name is pretty. But it's not what I expected, although that's probably because I've been calling her Ginger.

Hadrian doesn't wait for us to get acquainted. 'This is Alec--' he gestures to the dark-haired girl, who nods solemnly, '-- and Tisi.' The girl with the cold stare blinks at me. Every cheekbone in her face is defined, making her look sour and unimpressed.

Not one of us says a word.

Under the table, Hadrian nudges me with his foot.

'My love, not here,' I giggle, placing a demonstrative hand on Hadrian's arm. Megara's eyes flash, and I can't help but smile.

Before Hadrian can curse, a dinner is served.

Servants flood from both doors, carrying in trays of steaming food. I stop falsely patting Hadrian and let my guard down. They place hot bowls of soup, bread rolls and other delicacies that I'd never seen before. Each new item has my head craning to see what it is, and with each addition my stomach rumbles. Nobody has started eating yet, so I force myself to sit and wait patiently.

'You look like a wide-eyed child,' Megara says. She's sat leaning towards Hadrian across the table, but her gaze is sharp on me. 'It's no wonder, you look half starved.'

I don't dignify her with an answer. As the last tureen is placed, and Hadrian picks up his spoon, I start tucking in with gusto. It tastes fantastic. I suppress a delighted shiver as I swallow my soup.

'Is it safe to be eating that whilst your pregnant?' Megara cuts over me. She waves hand towards my food.

I stare at her, mid-mouthful. She's loud enough that Jefferson turns, realising frantically that pregnant ladies shouldn't be eating shellfish.

'Unless you're not pregnant,' Megara continues. 'After all, you've no bump. And nobody has seen you with any pregnancy symptoms...in fact, what proof do you have that you're Hadrian's Queen?'

The table, once again, goes silent. Everybody is trying to inconspicuously eat their food whilst not drawing attention to themselves. I place my spoon back down, and make a very quick decision.

'I have none,' I say.

All eyes are on us now. Hadrian has gone very still, and I feel like he's waiting to hear how I answer this one. Jefferson's hands have risen to his mouth, and I can almost hear him trying to stutter out a pun to ease the tension.

'I have no proof that I am your Queen,' I continue, neatly placing my hands on my lap. Beneath my feet, I feel the cold stone of the castle. Through the veins of the stone, the chill rises up my toes. 'I am not pregnant.'

Megara's smirk grows, then falters as my expression remains determined.

'I, however, do not need such proof,' I continue. 'I know who I am. I know what I must do. A great and terrible force is out there, and we must unite against her or my world won't survive. That is why we are here today; to work out a way to defeat her.'

Beneath my chilled toes, I feel the ground. And within the ground, I feel the heartbeat of the Earth, slow and steady.

And, in front of the table of shocked faces, the flower displays on the table begin to grow, reaching out to one another. As one, they join together.

A/N: sorry for the reeeeeeeeaaally late update. I did 2 exams last week and have now 4 to go! What did you think of this chapter? Do you like Char? What about Megara, Tisi and Alec?

Any suggestions?

Lots of love

Larissa