The Palace was crumbling, degrading at a far faster rate than would have occurred on the mortal plain, with the passing of its master. Debris was no a threat to the previous Queen of the Gods, but soon it would not be able to shelter her, she had hoped that those events which she intended to hide could have concluded before such a time as she would have to lead, but the biological processes of the gods were not clear or even, she could carry this child for a single day or for the rest of her life. She highly doubted it would be the former, for her to be so fortunate, and would have to plan for the 'growth' to outlive the palace.

Mysia was loathe to hide, even from the ascendant mortal servants who could whisper themselves, it was not in her nature, in the North she was a goddess of bravery, of women unwilling to accept that the men had chose for them, in the civilized lands she was Queen, a purveyor of fashions and elegance, the centre of attention, or at least near. However, she was a mother to, and risking her children was further from her nature, she could sacrificial her ego for that. There would be many who would not be too pleased at the idea of a new trueborn child of the previous god-king, and others who would wish to use them for their own ends. That and the few gods born in the fashion of the mortals below were rarely inconsequential, especially of the King and Queen.

To the outside world she had appeared insane and drunk, turned mad by the grief of her loss. In reality, the passing of her husband was troubling, but not as saddening as it once would have been, before he had twisted deeper into his own monstrosity. She could not be sure whether her latest child would be the product of consent, or one of his forced takings of her, frequent as they had become, and part of her was relieved at his passing. There was still sorrow, mainly from the memory of the brighter days, but it was not enough for anything like the reaction the other gods believed. A few visits from a certain nephew, some mad and loud ramblings and they had been duped, even if they had seen nothing but shadows from her. But most had avoided the apartments of the palace in the first place. Now it would seem, such tranquility was over, with the hurried shouts from the gardens. Having been resting in her draconic form, her body twisted into her 'true' form, loose layers of the finest silk shrouding her form, billowing in a breeze of her own creation, keeping it from pressing into her fecund form. With a thought, she appeared at the steps leading down from the palace to the gardens. She was not entirely alone in the royal grounds anymore, and she could feel a familiar burning presence rushing towards the palace. He would be harder to hide from.

"Why are you here...there is nothing to be found." Her voice was powerful, almost as much force behind it as she had commanded during the life of her husband, although she remember, at the last moment, to tone down the force, replacing it with bitter rage. Her body still felt warm from the ambrosia the gods dined on, filling her form with divine rejuvenation, as did regularly since her pregnancy had began to show, rather than the drink most assumed she was partaking of, but she had to channel what negativity she could muster.