Fire engulfed her vision. From left to right, all she saw were flames that loomed over her petite figure. Tiny legs brought her body closer to openings she squinted at. Yet, the heat waves, so strong in disturbing light's travel, made it hard for an eight year old to distinguish from hell and reality. "Brother," she squeaked as her voice was absorbed into the crackles of flames. She took in a deep breath, coughing with sooty air. "Brother!"

The fire continued to cackle at the little blonde. When she knew there was not the slightest hope, she curled into herself.

Vision was all too vague. Mind was too packed with soot. Voice too hopeless to search for responses.

Before she was given the opportunity to find out whether heaven and hell were two existent places, in hell was where she knew death would greet her. In hell, she wept to death but to be reborn into a new.

Blue moonlight flooded her eyes. She jolted upright, panting very heavily. She was here, she thought. She was alive.

Sweaty fingers clawed the bed sheets as legs bent inwards. She curled into a ball like how she did when she was young. Prominent ribcages heaved in and out as the shivers died down. That must have been the most vivid nightmare for the longest of time.

It was always strange, Octavia thought, how she would wake up drenched in sweat as though she had just visited Hades' home. Yet, her body wouldn't stop shuddering at the thought.

"What on Earth…" she huffed against her knees. She groaned, annoyed. Then, pausing, she took a look around. She was on her bed and she was in nothing but a tunic.

Hopping out of her bed, she stretched her arms out until her spine cracked in pleasure. She had never felt so refreshed. Looking out of the window, she saw the stars twinkling around the moon. It was nighttime. Night. Dinner.

Frantic, she dashed to her closet, stripping all of her garments, to find something to drape over herself. "I'm bloody late!"

Wheezing down the footsteps, her eyes darted around the foyer. The crowd was massive. What was worse was not only Albion people were there but she found imperial people attending the occasion as well. They were all dressed in the best traditional clothing they had with jewellery donned on each limb. They stood, facing the stage where Emperor Nero and King Arthur had started their announcement. Lanterns draped over trees and tents with food stations bordered the huge foyer. This was impossible, she thought. She needed to find someone she knew and fast.

Not a moment after stepping foot into the outline of the gathering, a small hand gripped her by the wrist. "Milady! Thank heavens!"

"Claudia!" Octavia yelped in joy and pulled her into an embrace. They stayed in that position for a few seconds when the blonde pulled back to find Claudia agape.

"M-milady?" she stammered.

"The stage, Claudia," Octavia puffed in exasperation as she distanced herself. "Bring me to it,"

The dark haired nodded happily and resumed in grabbing Octavia's hand. "Right this way, milady!" Instead of going through the crowd, they exited the foyer to Octavia's surprise. She was about to question before thinking that this petite lady probably knew things better than she did it. So she silently followed.

"Claudia how is my gown?" Octavia nonchalantly queried when they hopped into a garden and ran across the grassy plain. There was a secret passage to the stage, Octavia realized. And of course, none other than Mark Antony and Morgan guarded it. Brilliant, she thought. The little woman stopped in her tracks and turned around. Her eyes eagerly ran over Octavia's dress from top to toe.

"Perfect, milady," she said with a smile. "Does this happen to be the dress that Lady Atia has presented to you?"

"Indeed," the blonde answered while peeking down to see her outfit once more. It wasn't anything special. The dress was a typical white cloth that raveled her body in two diagonal swoops. To fasten the loose fabric and emphasize on her feminine figure, a black leather belt riveted her small waist. With a swing of the red shawl around her arms, it gave the final touch to make both men and women drool in her direction, as she had just experienced in the split moment entering the crowd. "Thank you, Claudia,"

"My pleasure," she said in a rush as she continued to tug Octavia towards the passage. When they reached, Mark and Morgan took a full half a minute to study and identify Octavia.

"Dashing as always," Antony commented. He was wearing his usual uniform but this time with a cape made of fur. Octavia couldn't start to imagine how hot it must've been under all those layers.

Morgan, on the other hand and to Octavia's disbelief, was sporting a lovely tunic with intricate swirls of embroidery. Covering her protruding collarbones were gold and red fineries, in honor of the empire's loyalty. Nevertheless, her legs were still too revealing to an imperial lad's eyes. However, at the very least, her sandals were able to cover them to Albion's minimum level of decency.

Too surprised to see Morgan in formal attire, Octavia completely dismissed Antony. "And who are you?" she probed.

Morgan pouted with reddening cheeks. "Shut up," she gasped and corrected a stray chunk of hair with a puff.

"Hmph," Octavia sighed as she turned to her assistant. "Well?"

"Arawn and Atia are on the stage already, " he explained, opening the curtains that would lead straight to the stage. "Those four demand you to be there,"

"What?" Octavia croaked. She had to be on a stage? That was the least of what she anticipated for the announcement and dinner. With an anxious walk, she entered the darkened path. Shortly after, klutzy Rhiannon came running in, breathless. Octavia looked at her, trying to delay her need to go on stage. "Rhiannon?"

"Claudia! I have gotten the peach drinks ready," she panted with a tiresome smile. "Can you do me a favor and pour them out for everyone? Llyr and the other elves would be there," Claudia exclaimed an affirmative and immediately rushed to assist with a committed smile. Later, the brunet sluggishly turned to Octavia. "Ah, Octavia," Rhiannon exhaled as she sat on one of the many stools lining up the pathway. She took a deep breath. "Congratulations,"

"On what?" Octavia asked, baffled. Rhiannon voiced a confused tone. Slowly, the blonde turned to Antony and Morgan who fell utterly silent.

Antony jerked his head towards the stage. "You should go,"

Octavia frowned at them. Whatever she was gifted with was definitely not what she would enjoy. Nervous, she climbed the first step. At that moment, she heard her cousin doing the announcement.

"We would like to show our upmost gratitude towards your patience for these announcements. The King and I promise you that you need not worry no more once this issue has been solved and once our affiliations are proven to be that of virtue! For that, I have special news. To hopefully bridge our two nations, I hereby not only return my cousin, Octavia Minor of the Aurelian Lineage, her right to nobility but also appoint her as the next Imperial Strategist -"

"No…"

"-Under the supervision of our new ambassadors, Atia Balba Prima and Demon King Arawn, to lead us in eradicating the ferocious creature, and in our dreams, to also carve our kingdoms-"

"No…"

"-A path of victory. A path to wealth! A path to an era of peace and status!"

And the crowd deafened her with cheers and shouts of pride and joy. If she thought that what happened a decade ago was hell… At this very moment, she would have considered it heaven.

This.

Now, this was definitely hell.