Unlike so many the woman who stood upon a mount to the south of Caesilinius still grieved and was wrapped in sorrow; her golden eyes were still damp with the tears that she had shed since the news that her once beloved Aroesus had been slain. Her tears made damp lines over her silver cheeks as they rolled down her achingly beautiful face. Somehow; even the deepest well of true grief was not enough to make her anything but heartstoppingly beautiful. 

Vaela wept where there was no one to see her weep; she had been strong when the news came to her; when the wave that signaled her brother’s death had swept across the world. She’d been strong in front of her highest priests and priestesses; strong even as the pulse hit her in the midst of the most intimate act that she presided over. 

Her silver gown fluttered in the wind as it gusted over the hilltop and blew through her hair too. She didn’t notice the chill that it held. Vaela had felt Sileon awaken and she had come here to call to her brother. She could have ascended to Krona but there was nothing there anymore; the whoring bitch who had stolen Aroesus from her still lived there and Vaela would never give Mysia the satisfaction of seeing her in her moment of grief. 

Aroesus had been a true leader, and he had sought her out after their father rejected her. He had shown her kindness and accepted her love in return; Vaela just knew that it was Mysia’s fault that Aroesus had changed. Even changed he had still been the brother she had embraced, the leader she had followed, and the lover she had once claimed; and even changed she had never doubted him until the very end.

“Brother” The Queen of Grace and Beauty said softly in a voice that would carry to Sileon alone; “I would speak with thee.” The message was simply but the grief and need came through clearly. 

Vaela knew he would come; she raised her eyes to the sky to watch for the streak of fire that had always been her brother’s herald. She did not fear Sileon’s wrath but as she conjured braziers from which fire and sweet smoke emerged to light the hill the shimmering of her bow and quiver on her back revealed that she did not think the world safe. 

She let herself grieve as she waited for when Sileon arrived she would need to act. The bitch who had stolen Aroesus had to be stopped; there was no doubt in her mind that Mysia had played a role in his death. And there was succession too; Vaela knew of truths that Sileon needed to know. Truths of Aroesus’ children.