Disclaimer: I do not own the Mystic Knights, Saban does. I do not have the rights to the characters, settings, past plots, or any of it. The only things I have are my own characters, settings and plots in this story, as well as a love for Irish mythology. Please don't sue me!

…

Mere moments after her father's death, Princess Deirdre summoned a maid, left her father's bedside, and walked briskly to the throne-room. Her eyes were puffy and red, and her cheeks tear-stained, though she kept herself together for her kingdom. As she made her way down the dim castle hallways, guards peered around corners, silently observing their future queen. Deirdre took no notice of their glances. At this instant, nothing was important to her. The King of Kells, her father, was dead and nothing else mattered.

By the time Deirdre had arrived in the throne-room, she had grown very weak at the knees and felt a sudden urge to sit down. Her first impulse was to sit in her usual chair, placed next the majestic gold and red throne, but she then remembered that as Queen, it was her right to have the throne for herself. Deirdre paused, and then took a seat beside where her father might have been seated, had he still been alive and well. With her elbow on the arm of the chair, she rested her head in the palm of her hand and closed her eyes. No thoughts ran through her mind, no emotions. For the first time since the death of her mother, Deirdre felt nothing but emptiness.

Not long after Deirdre's arrival in the throne-room, a very somber Cathbad entered the throne-room with Princess Deirdre. With him, he brought Angus, Ivar, and Garrett, all of whom looked remorseful and solemn. All four of them stood just inside the doorway, their eyes downcast, but each stole the occasional glance at their friend and fellow Mystic Knight – now Queen of Kells.

After a few seconds of silence, Deirdre noticed the presence of her friends in the room and looked up. It was as if nobody knew what to say, so everyone just stayed put. Except for Ivar.

Crossing the throne-room with an air of purpose, Ivar strode towards Deirdre, who was now standing up. When he finally reached her, he held his arms out and embraced her in a firm hug. Without a word, Cathbad left the room, knowing that Deirdre had all the comfort she would need for the next while at least. Angus and Garrett approached the other two, stopping just short of where Deirdre and Ivar stood. After what seemed like an eternity, Deirdre stepped away from Ivar and looked at the other two. Garrett was the next to step forward.

"We are so sorry for your loss, Prin…" He stumbled over the word and instead chose a new one, "Milady. If there is anything I can do for you, please let me know." Deirdre smiled sadly at Garrett, knowing that he had been nothing but pleasant to Kells in the recent years.

"There is one thing you can do for me, Garrett." Garrett's eyes widened and he tilted his head downwards, indicating for her to continue. "I would like you to ask Rohan to return to Kells. For a few days at least. Please?"

Garrett bowed his head and took Deirdre's hand.

"As you wish, milady." With that, he kissed Deirdre's delicate palm and turned towards the door, walking quickly towards the exit of the castle.

Angus watched Garrett leave, but Ivar turned to join him.

"Prince Garrett should have company on this journey; these are trying times. I will go with him if you'll permit it, my Queen," Ivar said, bowing his head with respect to Deirdre.

"I am not your Queen, Ivar," Deirdre said firmly. Ivar looked up as Deirdre continued, "I am your equal. And please, go with him. Nobody should be alone tonight." Ivar nodded, brushed off his royal blue garments and left without another word. This left Deirdre and Angus alone in the throne-room.

Once again feeling weak in the knees, Deirdre sat back down in her chair, sitting up straight and crossing one leg over another. Her back was perfectly straight, as though she was to have a portrait painted. She looked exceptionally regal.

"There's no need to be proper, Deirdre. I won't tell," Angus grinned, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow at her.

Deirdre signed and rolled her eyes, letting her posture slump a little. Surprisingly enough, she felt more relaxed. She supposed it was because he didn't care if her image as a royal slipped here and there. Still, she wasn't prepared to say much. Angus took notice of her silence, sat on the step beside her chair and proceeded to speak again.

"For someone going through so much right now, ye look pretty good." Deirdre looked at him confused – he was never much for offering compliments.

"Really?" Angus smirked mischievously.

"Nah." Deirdre slapped him hard across the upper arm, causing Angus to yelp in pain and rub his sore shoulder. "Just kidding. Ye look beautiful, Deirdre."

Deirdre let out a sigh and sank from the seat of her chair down to the step so that she and Angus were at the same level. She drew her knees towards her chest and leaned on Angus. He instinctively put an arm around her and held her close. He could feel her breathing deeply; her breaths would choke up every-so-often and the occasional tear would fall, but she didn't say a word.

…

Through word of mouth, Rohan got the news of King Conchobar's death less than a day after his passing. He set for Kells at once, racing on horseback through the rocky terrain and forests along the kingdoms' borders. The sky was full of ominous-looking clouds, and Rohan could tell that a storm was fast approaching. He quickly scanned the skyline, creasing his brow. The impending storm had come in unnaturally quickly. Rohan felt uneasy as he continued his journey to the castle of Kells, he braced himself for a potential attack, but none came. Instead, he crossed paths with two of his old friends from Kells.

"Ivar! Garrett!"

The two princes heard Rohan calling, and reared their horses. Galloping towards him, the princes shouted Rohan's name in return, wide smiles on their handsome faces. The three hadn't seen each other in at least a month, but it felt as if it were much longer than that. Rohan motioned to the sky, his friends looking up at the gloomy clouds.

"We'd better get back to Kells before the storm hits, or we'll be in for quite the beating. The wind shows no mercy in this area."

Ivar nodded, kicking the side of his horse so that it started to run. Rohan and Garrett followed closely behind, all the while keeping a close eye on the clouds above them.

…

The minutes that Angus and Deirdre spent sitting on the floor of the throne-room turned into hours. Barely any words were exchanged, but Angus thought it best to stay with his friend until she was able to calm her spirits. Deirdre had fallen asleep on the thief turned Mystic Knight turned Captain of the Guard's shoulder once her crying had subsided, but Angus didn't dare move. He knew he had to be there for his friend in her time of grief, so left to his own thoughts, he also drifted into a shallow slumber.

Cathbad had been watching the two Mystic Knights from the peephole in his chamber. Despite her tear-stained cheeks and red eyes, Deirdre looked much the same as she always had, as if she hadn't aged a day. Her personality hadn't changed all that much either. She still took charge in every situation she could and refused to step away from any situation because she was a woman. Cathbad admired her for her bravery, but felt as though she needed to get moving with her life. As the Queen, she needed to find herself a suitable husband and produce an heir to the throne. Deirdre however, would never do this without love – yet another admirable quality of hers.

Though he felt no great fondness for the former thief, even Cathbad had to admit that the boy had matured into a respectable young man in the past few years. His looks had remained the same, though his hair was shorter and he had grown light stubble, making him seem slightly more distinguished. Along with the positive changes in his life, Angus had of course found himself more attractive to maidens in Kells, but refused to commit to more than a night with any of them. Cathbad particularly disliked this, along with Deirdre, Rohan and Ivar. Garrett on the other hand found Angus' new lifestyle particularly interesting, though he would never test it out himself.

But alas, Cathbad said kept his thoughts to himself. He had developed a sense of pride for the young men and woman, as they had all done better than Cathbad could have hoped – at least Angus had done better. The others were expected to do well and succeeded, and that was all the druid could ask for.

A sudden crack of thunder sounded. Cathbad hurried over to the window, gazing at the dark grey sky. The rain began to pour down with lightning striking every couple of seconds. Something was not right in Kells, especially now that the King was dead. He hoped that Ivar and Garrett would be returning to Kells with Rohan shortly.

…

Author's Note: This chapter was a little bit more lighthearted, considering the last, but it was still depressing my beyond belief. Fortunately, the humor in the story will be picking up, along with the plot. I hope you like it! R&R!