The pain of a death, particularly the death of a near relation hits deeply, and poisonously. So it was for Fiona who felt the stabs of knives in the deep trenches of her stomach, her throat, her eyes and her skin. The tears that streaked her face dripped like acid down her cheeks, pooling in a stain on the fabric of her black satin gown. Her dear brother, her only brother was now gone. The head of her house, the one who welcomed herself and her son home after the tragic death of her husband which occurred around the same time of the death of his wife. The two had grown far closer over the last several years then they had been throughout the earlier years of their lives. This death, this loss, this tragedy pulled her into an almost paralysing pain,  a pain hidden from the world as she lay still in her chambers receiving no guests, no servants and no cooks, the curtains pulled in leaving the room dark but for the small lines of sun peaking in below the long tapestries.

On the morning of the wake, her son Lorenzo forced himself into her room, said nothing only laid his head on her shoulder which instilled the life back in her. He nodded, leaving the room and Fiona on her own to collect herself. The fabric was drawn back from the large windows illuminating the illustrious room of the fair lady. The hand carved, highly decorated four poster bed frame with satin and silk sheets, blankets and fresh down pillows. Hand woven rugs splayed out on the floor, their color's vibrant and beautiful as Fiona was. With a deep, long and relieved sigh, Fiona began preparing for the day ahead.

In the large full length mirror, Fiona tied her long hair back into an elegant up-do, accompanied with silver adornments that lay with the waves of her hair. Her dress was changed into a similar gown also a black satin but mixed with silver embellishments that accented her figure and stature. She cleaned her face and decorated with colors and fragrances, accentuating her beauty and enhancing her light blue eyes. She now looked like a regal, like a royal where the only hints of her deep depression betrayed her in the slowly receding puffs around her eyes.

Fiona, in all her grace, exited her chambers and made her way towards the hall where the wake would be held, the sound of her shoes clicking lightly with her gentle steps down the halls decorated with portraits and statues, her own nearer to the entrance of the hall. The large doors were open as she approached them, as the room was still bustling with movement as servants rushed in and out, here and there trying to be ready in time for the gathering. Fiona nodded kindly to each as they rushed by her, each one quickly dipping into a courtesy or bow before rushing off again.

As she entered the room her caught herself looking for just a moment too long at the painting of the once happy couple before seeing Pieter and Otto. Her water filled eyes, though not shedding a tear, met theirs before she nodded graciously in at each of them and took her seat at the far end of the hall next to the place Leon typically sat where she had so comfortably sat many a time before enjoying conversation with her beloved brother. This was her place and she would not change that now.