A/N: Origin story time! So, I've been getting a lot of inquiries on Castea's background and past with a lot of people wanting to know how she became evil or what motivates her to do these horrible things to Hope and company. Therefore the next two chapters are all about Castea's history. I have made them completely skippable for those of you that don't care to read any of it. Chapter 30 should be up within the next two weeks (I emphasize the word should) which gets right back to our main gang.

For those of you that do read this, I hope you enjoy and review :)

Reviewers:

NightwyngN52 –Yes, it was extremely satisfying to finally have Castea take a real hit. Thank you so much and glad to still have you here.

Deflow – Wow, you put a lot of thought into that. I'm pleased. The magic here doesn't really come from good or evil. It all pretty much derives from holy magic, just different variations of it.

Daaku Urufu – So happy to see you're still reading. They will have some down time, from the crystals at least…

Prince Fiend – Thank you so much!

Amelia – It would probably be different if Hope and Lightning weren't already fighting, but even if he believes what Castea told him, that doesn't mean that he trusts her more. Thanks for reviewing!

Valhalla – Um, okay? I suppose that's all true and that's fine. Lightning doesn't need a love interest, and I respect that, I do. It was cool having a final fantasy that didn't cling to a romance aspect for the main character, but I'm still a hardcore Hopurai fan whether they're canon or not. As far as Lightning and Raines are concerned, well, let's just say to each their own.


The light breeze drifted through her snow white tresses, causing the strands to dance in the wind. Her radiant smile shown in the sunlight along with her glimmering grey irises and glowing skin, reflecting her innocence and youth. The girl of fourteen years stood proudly before her audience of two, her posture regal as a crown of thornberry sat perched atop her head.

"All hail her royal majesty, Lady Mythnea Vil Castea!" announced one of the grand audience members before her. The young boy grinned toothily as the girl bowed in response. The thirteen year old began clapping eagerly as a small girl beside him gave a loud cheer.

"Go, sissy!" she yelled, her excitement echoing around the fields surrounding them.

The princess giggled before shaking her head at the two, a light blush staining her skin. "Oh, Cecily, I don't think that will do at my actual crowning ceremony. We have to be very formal as the proud royal family," she stated in a matter-of-fact tone. She then turned to her friend, giving him a wink. "Your announcement was perfect, Sebastian. I think I'll make you my royal herald."

Sebastian laughed. "Really?"

"Of course." She walked up to him and brushed his unruly auburn bangs from his eyes, assuring eye contact. "Are you doubting your future queen?"

"I would never."

"Good. Now, get up. Both of you. Enough of this." She extended her hand to the young boy, yanking him up from his place in the dry grass. Then reaching for her sister, she brought Cecily up and gave her a hug. "I will not be queen for many, many years. Father's going to be around for eons, right, sis?"

Cecily's smile grew as she latched onto her elder sister's hand. "Yup."

Castea then began to climb the tree they had gathered beneath. It was their favorite spot, out in the fields nearby Sebastian's family's land. They felt themselves at peace there. Their own little area to do what they wanted. The girl climbed and climbed up into the large tree, having little difficulty despite the gown she was wearing.

Sebastian climbed up after her, Cecily hanging on his back. With one final yank up by Castea, they all sat in the confines of their precious tree. Their own little castle, they called it. It had just been Castea and Sebastian's until Cecily had been old enough to tag along with her sister.

They let the quiet air lay around them, Castea laying on a large branch with Cecily cuddled up in her lap and Sebastian on a neighboring branch beside her. "She fell asleep," Castea whispered after a good deal of time passed. The eldest princess tucked a piece of golden hair behind her sister's ear and gave her a soft kiss on the forehead. Castea never really minded when Cecily would want to play with her and Sebastian. She adored her baby sister and since their mother had passed during Cecily's birth, she was usually left in Castea's care seeing as their father had a kingdom to run.

Sebastian gave the two a look of fondness. His eyes wandered over Castea's form, admiring her beauty. A grim smile took his features as he thought of the coming arrival of a certain prince. "I don't want him to come."

Castea knew of whom he was speaking and rose a delicate brow, but otherwise did not reply. She was unsure of how she would handle the coming days of the prince's visit. She grabbed Sebastian's hand, trying to cheer him up with an assuring smile, but his eyes wouldn't meet hers.

"Things will change once Arturia's second son arrives." Everything was changing already. He hardly got to spend any time with Castea anymore. She was becoming a lady and learning to be a proper princess in order to become a proper queen when the time arrived, or so he was told. In truth, he wished Castea hadn't been born of the royal family. He knew she was going to be a fine ruler one day, but her status only separated them. "Do you want to marry him?"

A pondering hum came from the fair blonde as she considered his question. She'd known almost her whole life who she was going to marry. What she wanted wasn't a factor. "I've never really been asked that before..." Sebastian's hand squeezed hers in a reassuring gesture. "I have met him only a handful of times. He was always polite and kind. Other than that, I'm not sure what I think of him or whether I want to marry him."

Sebastian nodded, only somewhat satisfied with the answer. "Well, come on, your highness. It's nearly time for supper and we wouldn't want the entire kingdom to send out a search party."

Castea rolled her eyes and thumped him on the head. "Call me by my name, Sebastian. We're best friends, after all."


"Cecily," Castea gasped again, her voice taking on a tenor of intense trepidation. "You can't be here. You can't… You're-"

"And why ever not?" Cecily cocked her head to the side, a bright smile lightning up her face. Castea knew it too well. "It's been so long, my dear sister. Haven't you missed me?"

Shaking her head, Castea backed away from the woman before her. Fear lit up her gaze before it sparked into a familiar anger. "Why are you here? What do you want from me?!"

"What do I want from you…? You're the one who sent for me."

Castea's brows furrowed, but she didn't dare respond.

"You needed to remember, didn't you? Remember everything that made you who you are now." Cecily walked forward, her light blue gown and golden curls bouncing with every step. For every step she took, Castea took a step back, her limbs shaking with emotions she'd long ago thought she'd lost. "That's what I'm here for. To help you remember." Castea's back hit the wall, but Cecily kept coming forward until they were but three feet from each other. She lifted her hand, moving it as if to caress her cheek, but stopped just shy of the action. "So remember."


She couldn't stop fussing with her appearance. She'd been standing in front of the mirror for the better part of an hour. She had already changed gowns three times, tried on four different pairs of gloves before deciding to rid herself of them entirely, and had readjusted the bow around her abdomen until it was creased with disappointment.

By the time she made it to her jewelry she was an indecisive mess. Her hand hovered over the selection before her, but by the time she managed to make a decision, another necklace caught her eye. Why is this so hard? I've never had a problem dressing myself before? She huffed and was ready to just hide under her bedclothes until dawn when a soft knock drew her attention. "Yes?"

Her father stepped in, his eyes kind with a knowing gleam in their depths. "The prince has arrived."

Castea gave a whine and threw herself down on her bed, her body bouncing on the plush comforter. "Oh, father, I don't know what's wrong with me. It's like I've completely lost the ability to dress myself. Maybe I'm ill? If I'm ill do I still have to attend, father?"

The man gave a warm laugh. "It's just nerves, darling. It's a good sign."

"And how, pray tell, can my incompetence possibly be a good sign?" She watched her father shut the door behind himself as he settled against the wall.

Mythnea Vil Epsian was a wise man who ruled his kingdom with firm, but fair principles. He wasn't a large man, but for what he lacked in stature, he made up for with trained strength and honed skill. He had always shown great strength in times of conflict, but he was known for his kindness to all, no matter their rank. Beneath his own roof, though, he showed a gentleness no one but his two daughters and his late wife had ever seen. He may have been the ruler of one of the grandest kingdoms on Pulse, but his family was what he lived for.

"It means that you're beginning to care what the young prince thinks of you."

Castea's face scrunched up as she sat propped up on her elbows. "But I never cared before…" She'd always felt very indifferent to the prince's presence. Her eventual marriage to him had always seemed so far away, and she'd never really cared to get to know the boy. Their age difference hardly helped. He always treated her like a child. But now…

"Your union is coming, Castea. It's best you two get close before you have to join together. The fact that you are already feeling nervous at meeting with him again is more than I could have hoped for."

"If you say so. Can you at least help me pick out a neck piece? I have no idea which one suits me."

"They all suit you perfectly."

"Dad," she groaned.

"Right." He gave a sigh, his eyes perusing the contents of her jewelry. "It's times like these that I do so wish your mother was still around to counsel you."

Castea stayed quiet for a moment, watching her father and the gloom that had befallen the usually cheery man. "Do you think mother would have approved of him now?"

"Oh yes, dear. She would have adored him. He'll do right by you, I shall see to that." He turned with his pick in hand before placing it around Castea's neck. "Rubies always suited you well."

Castea glanced up at herself in the mirror, watching as her father placed a steady hand on her shoulder. It was warm and strong and easily gave her the confidence to finally go down to meet with her betrothed.

They were to have dinner out on the terrace. It was a lovely setting. The servants and the gardeners had done a wonderful job of setting it all up for them. The food was delicious, prepared well by one of their finest chefs. Everything was quite perfect, if she could get herself to speak, of course.

She peeked at him from beneath her long bangs as he ate quietly, his eyes staring out wistfully across the terrace. She'd always thought Barsilisk to be plain in appearance, but it was odd how time had changed her opinion of him. His features just seemed all the more striking, his dark hair and eyes giving him a mysterious allure she'd never considered. His growth had done him well, it seemed, as he had developed into a very handsome man.

This only made her more self-conscious of her own appearance as she fidgeted in her chair. She had to mentally scold herself for the action. Ladies don't squirm. She'd had that drilled into her head enough times during her lessons growing up.

"The stars are quite beautiful tonight, aren't they?"

Caught off guard by the abrupt question, Castea quickly grew flustered. "A-as always, your highness."

Chuckling lowly, the seventeen-year old turned to face her fully. "There's no need for the title, darling. We are of the same station, are we not? Besides, we are due to be wed soon. I think that calls for some familiarity."

"I suppose, Barsilisk."

"Much better." His eyes sparkled with amusement as he gently took her hand and brought it to his lips, brushing them lightly over her fingers. "I must say you have grown into a fine young woman since we last shared a meal. I can't imagine you becoming any more stunning. The next couple of years will give you some more time to grow into those ears, though."

She instantly drew her hand back, quickly covering her ears with the front strands of her hair as shame rose to her cheeks. "I apologize. I-I usually keep them hidden…"

"It's nothing to be too ashamed of. As I said, you'll grow into them, I'm sure. My brother, however," his tone darkened as he glanced back out into the night, "those fish lips of his will always remain." He laughed, but it was a bitter sound, harsh in his throat. "Serves him right. First born, arrogant waste."

"You don't like your brother?" It wasn't a serious question, his dislike for his brother was obvious, and she could guess why. She knew many were envious of the kingdoms' first borns, including their very siblings. A first born to a king and queen was always chosen as the successor for the throne. Any following children could only lead if they married the first born of another kingdom, or if anything happened to the eldest sibling, though that didn't occur often.

Barsilisk was the second son of Arturia. By birth, he could not inherit the crown and would instead watch his brother take over his kingdom. She could understand some resentment for that, but Barsilisk still got to rule. He would be marrying her. He would be king of Mythnea. Didn't that make him any happier?

His eyes flicked over to her, the slightest amount of loathing etched into the rims of his midnight irises, before it instantly warmed and he let out a light laugh. "He is of no concern. Let's not talk of such matters." He drew in a breath, the new air seeming to calm him some. "Your father just announced your sister's betrothal, if I'm not mistaken. She'll be marrying into the fourth kingdom."

"Your ears have not betrayed you," Castea replied as she regained her bearings bit by bit. "She is due to marry their third son."

"Ah, I have met Erevet. He is a good kid. Much too meek to lead, but I suppose that won't be a problem for either of them." Castea deflated at his words, which didn't go unnoticed by him. "This troubles you?"

"No, no. I'm glad. I fear such a task as ruling a kingdom would tire my sister. Her spirit doesn't belong on a throne."

"But yours does?"

A small fire ignited within her gaze as she detected the challenge within his question. She sat up, squaring her shoulders with the utmost confidence. "I am Mythnea Vil Castea, the first child of Mythnea Vil Epsian and Falto Ryn Montronae, and the next ruler of this kingdom. Do not question my loyalty nor my commitment here. When the time comes, I will inherit what is rightfully mine. Will you?"

His lips drew into a frown as he sat back, crossing his legs as he leant his jaw down to rest within the palm of his hand. "Interesting. Insulting your betrothed? That is hardly nice."

Her eyes widened and she ducked her head down, embarrassed at her outburst. "I didn't mean to offend you, I was just…" He waved her off, but she could tell by the stiffness of his limbs that he still wasn't pleased with her. She mentally berated herself for her actions. He had been nothing but a gentlemen to her all night and here she was spitting in his face. Why did she always let her mouth ruin things?

"Why don't we have a walk around the terrace? I hear it is lovely here during the harvest..."


"But I don't agree with your decision. We need this treaty, Barsilisk. It's the only way we'll be able to make peace with the people of Cortone and the rest of the Nazreal nations." Castea stopped as Barsilisk spun around so fast that his tail of hair smacked against his back like the crack of a whip.

"A king handles matters, not a queen." His voice was low, but the threatening tones threaded through it captured Castea's attention all the same. He smirked as she shrunk back minutely. "I do not require nor desire your presence, but the king insists his daughter take chair. What a foolish man."

Castea felt her insides burn at his words, but she knew better by now to keep her tongue dull. Her husband didn't appreciate her back talk any more than he did her insights. She'd learned over the past couple years that she wasn't to spurn his pride with any of her 'womanly nonsense', but this was her kingdom, as well. She couldn't allow Barsilisk to ruin relations with any of the other kingdoms or nations. She had to speak, if only to stand for her people. She was used to stepping back to allow Barsilisk to take charge, but this was too much. "You are not a king, yet. And I won't allow this. You are wrong, Barsilisk. I will share my thoughts with the council. I have a duty to uphold, just as you do."

Frighteningly cold eyes glowered down at her. "You will stay silent. You are there to support me, that is all." His hand wrapped around her upper arm, his hold tightening uncomfortably with his next words. "You will respect my wishes or so help me-"

The council room doors opened and Barsilisk instantly ripped his hand away as the king and his most trusted advisors came into view. They all sat around the conference table, attentive eyes glancing towards the two newcomers.

"Took you both long enough. I feared the trees would relinquish their leaves before you were to grace us with your presence."

"Oh, let them be, Lasseter," spoke her father. "Come, join us. We were just about to get into the thick of the discussion." The king gestured with an open palm to the last two seats beside him.

Barsilisk bowed and joined him at his right as Castea gave a quick curtsey, soon following behind. Barsilisk was practically beaming as he took the seat right beside the king, just as he did at every council. His happiness wasn't surprising; it was an honorable spot. The king's right and left chairs were reserved for the most trusted advisors at the table. She could understand the pride that came with such privilege. She sat beside her husband, a gracious smile curving her lips even as tendrils of envy traced her heart.

The king cleared his throat, smiling lightly at his daughter before speaking. "Now that we are all here, I think it would be wise to flesh out everyone's opinion of the treaty that's been waiting in the wings. The Nazreal have been kind enough to give us until the end of the harvest to reach an agreement on our answer."

Lasseter, Castea's father's left hand advisor, huffed in obvious displeasure. "I think it's ludicrous. Why should we have to sign a formal trade agreement simply because the Cortone tribe has changed heads? Those barbarians should know their place."

Another advisor, the second youngest of their group and the most idealistic of them all, Jordane, spoke up in response. "Barbarians? They live in less luxury and you see fit to call them barbarians? You speak ill of people you don't understand."

"And you understand them so much more, eh? When was the last time you served them a visit? You've never met them. How can you so easily refute my claim?"

Before Jordane could speak in protest, Holsted stood up from the opposite end of the table. "Neither of you know what you are talking about. As the head of our trade commission, I have met and spoken with those of the Nations many times. They are far more intelligent and worthy of our time than Lasseter gives them credit for. Even so, I have yet to form an opinion on this treaty."

The rest at the table kept talking. Castea's eyes widened as she took in the men's words, most in complete opposition towards any sort of formal deal being made with those that were considered beneath them. Was she really the only one that thought well of the agreement?

"Barsilisk," the king turned his eyes over to the prince, "what are your thoughts on this matter?"

"Their social status aside," the dark haired man began, "I do not believe that a treaty with any of the Nazreal is necessary, and certainly not the demands they have listed within it. We shouldn't have to expand our trade routes or provide more incentives for their men to fight for us. No, certainly not. If we even entertain such notions, just imagine what the other nations will think? Will they be changing our current agreements in order to make such outlandish demands? I also vote to reject the treaty."

The king hummed as he rested his chin against the palm of his hand. His amber eyes flickered from his new son to his daughter. "And you, Castea."

The blonde's head snapped up, her wide eyes meeting her father's inquisitive gaze. She opened her mouth to speak only to instantly snap it back shut. What was she to say? Was she to play her part as the supportive wife as she had always been taught, or was she to speak her mind as the queen of Mythnea? As the ruler she was born to be? "I think-" A forceful hand squeezing her knee halted her words.

"I think Castea agrees with the majority rule. Right, dear? You said so in the hall, yes?"

A coldness nestled within her chest as she looked towards her husband. The man's eyes were lit with an oppressive fire, silently urging her to share his opinion. When she kept silent, his grip tightened on her leg until it was almost painful.

"Right, Castea?"

A silent battle went on in her mind in those moments as midnight irises bore into troubled gray. Am I a queen or a wife? Am I not both? But if I speak…

"Castea?" her father inquired.

In the end, she chose to ignore his attempts at coercion. The whole of Mythnea was more important than avoiding a small domestic quarrel. "Actually, I believe that such a treaty would help our kingdom, rather than hinder it."

Barsilisk's expression reflected his shock at her proclamation. "Cas-"

"I see.." The king gave her his full attention as he placed his chin upon steepled fingers. "And what is your reasoning?"

She pushed Barsilisk's hand, now limp in his stun, from her lap as she stood, soon coming around the table to stand beside her father. Turning, she met the eyes of his council, addressing the table with firm resolution.


"I'd say, my dear, you were incredibly impressive up there. You are a queen already."

Castea flushed at the compliment from the large man before her. "Oh, Holsted, I just said what I thought, is all. There is nothing to be impressed by, least of all my meager knowledge of your trade." But even as she said that she couldn't help but feel proud of herself. She'd managed, with the help of a few of the more reserved council members, to sway the tide into agreeing to the treaty. They had yet to set the terms and articles of the agreement, but that was a hurdle for a different day. For now, she could be satisfied with the outcome of the first time she stood up like the queen she would be.

"Wondrous words, Castea!" exclaimed the king as he strode up to her side. The rest of the council chambers had cleared out, leaving the two of them alone. "Simply marvelous. I thought I was going to have to undergo the task of taking them all on by myself, but you took over and I hardly had to say a word."

"I am sure you would have said it with much more eloquence and authority, father. I hope I didn't wander over too many toes."

"Nonsense! My council loves you, and you nearly managed to persuade them all. The rest will lick their wounds in due time."

The two continued talking as they made their way out of the room and through the halls. After some time, the king stopped, features pensive. Castea halted her steps as she noticed his contemplation. "What is it, father?"

"I would like to ask something of you. I know it would be breaking tradition, but I cannot see a way around it." Taking a breath, Lord Epsian smiled down at his daughter, putting his hands on her shoulders and gripping them gently. "Barsilisk is a smart man, but he is still learning to lead. I think you should take his place by my side at the table, for now."

She gaped as she took in his words, unable to believe her ears. It had been her dream for so many years to sit beside her father, to council him during his most important decisions, to be one of his most trusted, and to learn directly from his side. She couldn't believe her father was allowing her such a privilege. She couldn't even speak.

"In the future you will have to guide him. Take charge. Pulse knows where we would all be if I hadn't had your mother at my side in the beginning of my rule." Her father pulled her in for a hug and in her shock she nearly forgot to reciprocate the embrace. When they pulled apart, they were interrupted, one of the king's advisors requiring his attention. He gave her a broad smile before heading off.

Castea turned away, her father's smile reflected on her lips as she felt as if she were higher than the clouds. That is, until she turned the corner. Her feet slid to an abrupt halt as her eyes met that all-too-familiar and all-too-furious midnight gaze.


Barsilisk's anger was always strong and swift. In merely seconds she would be on the floor, pleading with him to stop. His eyes were cold and cruel, and no matter how much she begged, he wouldn't stop until his frustrations had been released upon her.

As per his instructions, she made herself small. She didn't speak at the table unless she was spoken to, her replies meek and always in agreement with her husband. The marks and bruises laid hidden beneath long sleeves and silk skirts. He never struck her face, as committed to their secret as she was. She didn't say anything, despite the desire to run to her father whispering in the back of her mind.

He would only be disappointed in her, and she wouldn't dare disappoint her father. Cecily was her next choice, but she was too young, too innocent. And as her protector, the last thing she wanted was to get her little sister involved. So she chose to go to someone else, the last person she could trust. She could find solace in his presence, in that little barn on that small farm on the outskirts of their kingdom.

It still smelled of that same blend of hay and pine as she stepped through the heavy doors. The rays of bright sunlight shone through the rafters, the only light to speak of in the quiet space. Castea stared up at the rafters and could almost hear their laughter ringing down from above, as if they were still children, still wild and free. She'd received many splinters and cuts playing above the barn floor, but she never regretted any injuries she sustained with her best friend. Her time with him was much too valuable to regret.

The sharp thwack of an axe cutting into wood turned her attention to the back of the barn and she made her way further in. Sebastian's large form was turned away from her, his axe poised to strike its prey once more. She watched him from a distance, thinking back to the days when she thought she needed nothing else. Just that young boy and the creaky, old barn.

As the warm sunlight glimmered across her face, she let her eyelids flutter shut and succumbed to the feeling of safety and security. She sank into her mind as she allowed her thoughts to wander through scenarios and daydreams, through secret wishes and desires. She thought of stolen kisses and twilight meetings. Of hushed confessions and feelings turning into memories. Of a bond built on love, not on royal match making.

But such silly thoughts should never be allowed to remain.

"Castea?"

She opened her eyes to find Sebastian before her, wiping the sweat from his confused brow with an old cloth. The axe now laid silent against the wall.

"What are you doing here?"

"I just came for a visit." She didn't miss the flicker of agitation that crossed his face. "Is this a bad time?"

"Actually, it is…"

"Something the matter…?" His gaze fell away from her, but she saw the hollow sadness lingering within his sage irises. "Is it your father? Is the farm okay?" He didn't speak, but he didn't have to. Her eyes travelled along the distance he purposefully kept between them. "It's me, is it not? You don't want me here." He still failed to answer her, though his muscles tensed in response to her statement. She gasped as she recognized his tell. "Why are you pushing me away?"

"I can't do this." He went to walk past her, but she stepped in his way. Putting a firm hand on his broad chest, she met his uncertain gaze.

"Is it why you didn't come to my wedding?"

He scoffed, but didn't deny it. Instead he just looked down at her, as if the answer was obvious.

She quickly pulled her hand away, protecting it against her chest. Her eyes flickered with a realization that hurt more than any physical blow Barsilisk could have ever inflicted; Sebastian was pulling away from her. It only dawned on her then, though she should have known. She should have seen it. He'd been distancing himself from her for quite a while. He'd stopped visiting, and every time she visited him, he was either gone or too preoccupied to see her. She'd thought that it was just him becoming busier as his responsibilities with the farm grew, but now she could see that he was actively avoiding her.

"I couldn't," he said, voice strained. "I just couldn't go."

The day of her union was supposed to have been one of her happiest, but it wasn't. Even with her beloved father and sister there to support her, all she could think of was that lone spot that sat silent and empty. "Out of everyone, I wanted you there. You were supposed to be there!" she yelled as her eyes watered. "You're always supposed to be there."

"I'm sorry-"

She shook off his apology. This wasn't why she came. "I wanted to talk to you." Her bruises ached beneath her clothing, demanding attention. She wondered if Sebastian could see them, all of her wounds, her pain and sorrow. The old Sebastian always could. "I trust you-"

"I'm getting married."

Her first tear fell swiftly down her cheek before she could stop it. She tried to keep her face still and the devastation from becoming visible, though there was a slight shake to her limbs that she couldn't control. She watched as he ran a frustrated hand through his messy strands, fingers ripping through curly, auburn locks. He looked back at her stock still form and tried to reach out to her, but she stepped back out of his reach. She didn't want his comfort. Not then. Not when he was so keen on ripping out her heart.

"She's a teacher down in the village," he said, expression withdrawn, but his tone fond. "All of her students love her and the villagers all think highly of her. Giselle and I met at the last…" He trailed off as Castea spun herself around, the woman unable to look at him any longer. "Ma thinks she'll be good for the family and the farm. I'll be taking over sooner than we thought, since Pa took ill last winter. Giselle, she… I'll be lucky to have her."

Castea clenched her eyes shut and tried to will it all away. Maybe if she wished hard enough she could go back to the simple days. Back to when responsibility and duty were just words that had yet to have meaning. Back to when their eventual unions were just a formality in the face of their close bond.

"I can't do this," he repeated, determined even as she could hear the hesitation in his voice. "Whatever 'this' is."

"We're friends, Sebastian. Always."

"No, we're not." Castea choked on an audible sob, but he kept going. "You should leave. And never come back."

She ran from the barn, nearly tripping on her skirts in her haste to retreat. She didn't dare look back, not wanting to see his expression. The one of affection for his new bride, nor the one of disdain for her. She got that look enough from her husband. Instead she kept running with no real destination in mind. Her feet worked beneath her, carrying her off into a forest several miles away.

She finally stopped at a small pond and came down to her knees. She could hear her own quick, heavy breaths, but she could hardly feel anything past the devastation tearing at her heart. The thick forest howled and croaked and whistled around her, the night alight with life. Shards of the moon's light shone down through the trees, the water glistening a brilliant white. She stared down at the water, a lost look in her eyes as she tried to comprehend Sebastian's words.

He was resigning from their friendship. The one friend she valued, the one friend she'd always had, was leaving her. Or maybe she'd left him long ago… But what could she have done differently? She had a duty to her lineage, her kingdom, and her husband. She was bound by her royal heritage, a fate she had never thought to curse until the day she stood on that alter.

"The water shines like your hair."

Castea jolted in a reflex of panic, whipping her head around to face the newcomer. There stood an old man, face weathered by a long life and hair just as dirty and unruly as the cloth that hung from his bony frame. His expression was calm, smile kind as he leant against a long wooden staff.

"I didn't mean to startle you, child."

Letting out a small chuckle, she shook her head and wiped her eyes, relaxing back into the ground as she determined that he was no threat. "No, I apologize. I just failed to hear a tell of your approach, is all."

"When you make home of a place such as this, it is wise to keep your steps to yourself."

"You live here?"

"For now, yes."

Castea's eyes widened and she quickly stood from her spot. "I am sorry for treading on your land uninvited," she said, bowing in apology.

The man clicked his tongue as he brought two fingers beneath her chin and gently urged her head back up. "Do not be sorry, young one. This land belongs only to our maker. We are all trespassers here." She straitened up and he gave a nod of approval. "Now, what has brought you out to these old woods?"

Her eyes misted over as memories of the day came back to her in an unwelcome flood. "I just… needed to get away." She held herself, fingers tangled in her silken sleeves as she looked back out into the water.

"Away from what? Or is it whom?" The woman winced, and he made a small hum in acknowledgement. "Well, take all the time you need. For a stunning woman such as yourself, I'm sure the world will wait for you to return." The man began to step away to allow her privacy, but stopped as she seized the flimsy cloth at his shoulder.

"Will you just… stay a minute? I will leave soon. I have to, but… Can you just stay here for now? Please?"

Her words were hushed, her tone as fragile as that of a lost child. He could only smile in response and sat beside her in front of the pond. "As long as you like."

When she made it back to town, she was met with disorder and pandemonium. The people were in a frenzy as horns were being blown by the men in every guard tower around the kingdom. The warning blew the town into chaos and Castea was sure that they were either on the brink of war or a disaster of mother nature's bidding was on the horizon.

It turned out to be neither.

"Castea! Oh, gods, Castea, the entire castle has been searching for you."

The princess turned to meet the frantic gaze of the head servant of the castle. Marguerite was adorned in her night clothes, her curly brunette hair wild and her eyes brimming with exhaustion even in her panic, as if she had just been woken from deep sleep. She stumbled down the steps and brought Castea into a tight hug. "I was afraid we'd lost you. No one could find you and-"

"What is going on?" Castea pulled away, bewildered. She knew Marguerite cared a great deal for her, she had been like another mother to her after her own had passed and she felt much love for the woman in return, but to put the whole town into such a tizzy because she'd left for the night? That had never happened before. "Is all of this about me? I've left the castle unannounced to go to town many times before. Why this now?"

Sadness suddenly clouded the older woman's face. "Castea, there is… Something has happened."

The remorse and regret coloring Marguerite's gaze made Castea freeze up as her stomach knotted. She shook her head and pushed the woman away, though there was little strength behind the action. "No, not today. I can't- Please, nothing more today."

Marguerite swallowed heavily, dragging the girl back into her bosom as she wrapped her arms protectively around her. "We must get you to safety, Castea." The woman gripped her tightly as she fought her own tears. "The king has fallen."


She knew. The second she saw his face, the perverted glee in his eyes, she knew who killed her father.

The crowning ceremony took place only three days after they'd sent her father's body out to sea. She was still deeply in mourning, but a dignified smile remained in place as she looked out to her people. Her sister, who she had hoped to latch onto in this moment, was absent. She had locked herself in her room with only Marguerite to keep her company as she wept into her bed skirts. Castea stood there alone beside her husband, keeping her thoughts away from her father's death, from Sebastian's once again empty space. From her husband's betrayal.

It had been announced that Lasseter, her father's right hand advisor, had slain the king. His dagger, engraved with his initials, had been left in her father's chest and the portly man had absconded in the night. No one had seen hide nor hair of him since the morning prior to the murder. No one knew why he would have done it. The consensus was that it had been due to differing opinions and an argument that had gotten out of hand. It was true that the two had been arguing more often as of late. Lasseter was not fond of the treaty, nor many of the king's newest policies, but Castea knew it was all a sham.

He was loyal to her father. More so than anyone she had known. It hurt to see his good name be tarnished so her husband could go unsuspected. But it did not hurt nearly as much as the fact that she could do nothing about it. She could not clear Lasseter's good name. She could not seek justice for her father's death. For when she met Barsilisk's gaze, all she could see now was the blatant challenge in his eyes. She knew, and he knew she knew. But they also both knew what would happen if she spoke. If she chose to betray their union, he would not hesitate to kill her, too.

Festivities went on around her. Smiling faces danced to the music that rang out to celebrate the momentous occasion of the crowning of the new King and Queen. Castea could only watch as a silent fury boiled beneath her skin. An anger sank its poison deep into her veins and all she could see were traitors. Blind, ignorant fools celebrating a murderer. Didn't they know? Couldn't they see? Her hands balled up into tight fists as they all laughed. She hated them, every single one of them. Most of all, she hated him. He who had taken her sweet father from her. He who would reap the most rewards from his death. He who would pay.

Castea gasped as she loosened her fists. Her form trembled in the wake of such thoughts. How could I… I would never… She looked out into the sea of people, saw her husband's cheery face amongst all of his newly appointed advisors, and had to get out.

Again she ran from it all as she fought the urge to vomit. Castea ran out into the town, past all of the townspeople and their homes until she reached the outskirts. She had almost made it into the forest when she tripped on the lining of her dress. She braced herself for the fall, though it never came. Instead she fell into the arms of a familiar man.

"Nice to see you again, my dear."

Castea gave a watery smile before falling completely into the arms of the old man, crying into his robes. "It's you. Oh, thank goodness. It's you."

It took quite a bit of comforting, but as the moon made its way across the sky, he managed to calm her.

"I have never felt so angry before. I just-" She stared down at her palms, wondering how such rage could have gripped her heart so easily. "I just want him to pay for what he has done. He cannot be allowed to murder my father and get away with it!" she shouted, a cold fury slipping back into every word.

"So why not just kill him?"

Her eyes widened as she glanced back at the elder of the two, her brows creased in disbelief.

"Kill him before he can kill you."

"But I-"

"You can't, can you?" There was a touch of disappointment in his voice, but there was an odd note of acceptance accompanying it, too. "You fear that anger you feel. You fear what it might make you do."

She looked back down at her hands and watched as they shook. "I could never take a life. Especially not my own husband's. No matter what he has done, I-" She bit her lip, fighting back the words that were too hard to say. "But I can never forgive him. I fear I will harbor these feelings of ill will until I die."

"Then let those feelings drive you." The old man stood up from his spot on an old stump and came to grasp Castea's shoulders. "Do not fear such anger, such rage. Embrace it. Let that be what drives you towards your own happiness."

She let the weight of his hands ground her. It was comforting. His touch, that reminded her so much of her father's, put her at ease when nothing else could. "But I fear I will not last. What if he decides that I am just another obstacle? That I need to be cast away just as easily?"

"You have worth, my dear. He cannot toss you aside. Not yet. I may not know much of your royal customs, but he needs an heir, does he not? And one of royal blood, I assume."

She nodded, though that didn't make her feel much better. He would keep her around, but only so she could bear him a new ruler.

"You just need to endure. Endure, Castea, and let your feelings grow until you can one day reclaim what you have lost and strive for so much more."

She sniffed before looking back up into his eyes. They glimmered brilliantly with a passion so foreign to her, and she desired to share such conviction. "How do you know? How can it be so simple as to just keep moving forward? How can you be so certain?"

"Because I was just like you" he replied as he planted a soft kiss upon her forehead. He pulled back as he cupped her face, staring into it as pain clouded his gaze. "Lost, abandoned by the only beings I ever cared for. Trust me, Castea. Your day will come. The day when you will learn of the true power you hold within."

The man held out his palm as a dazzling white light shone out from his skin. Castea stared into it and could see herself within it. Held within that vivid glow were all of her aspirations turned reality, a peaceful kingdom, a glowing family, a smile that never wilted. Everything she'd ever dreamt about was right in front of her. She just had to endure.

"You do trust me, don't you?" he asked as the light faded away.

"Yes. I trust you, Belphegor."


She sat in her chair by the window, her gaze lazily watching the townsfolk go about their work. Marguerite stood behind her, brushing her long white hair out in slow strokes. It was a warm day as the summer sun streamed in from outside. In the cozy heat, Castea felt at peace.

Loud laughter pulled her out of her haze. She stared down at the commotion, watching as her husband strode away from the castle walls. He was arm and arm with another woman. Just another random girl she couldn't identify. Marguerite scoffed behind her.

"Off with his latest courtesan, I see."

"Watch your tongue, Marguerite. You mustn't let anyone hear you speak so lowly of him."

The brunette snorted. "I do not fear that man." She watched the two with scorn in her eyes until she could no longer stomach the sight. "How can you stand to watch as he makes light of your bed?"

"He makes it very easy," Castea said as she slipped her sleeve down to cover more of her arm.

Marguerite watched the action, noting how it slid over her most recent bruise so quietly. She reached down and gently patted her wrist, letting the woman know that she wasn't alone in her pain. Marguerite knew, and she wasn't abandoning her. Castea gave her a small, placating smile. She turned her attention back to the queen's hair as she attempted to free herself of those thoughts. "You have the most gorgeous locks, Castea. How I wish I had been graced with such fair hair. Instead of this frazzled mess." She ran her hand through her own hair with a laugh.

Castea chuckled. "I was never fond. I always thought my hair made me look like an old beggar woman."

"Nonsense."

"But… It has always reminded me of mother…"

"Yes. It is much like lady Montronae's. In fact, you are so much like her. I know she would be proud."

"Would she?" Castea looked back out, but her husband had long since left her sight.

"I have no doubt."

Castea warmed to the other woman's words. "You sound like Belphegor. He has such confidence in me. In my future."

Marguerite couldn't help the frown that pinched at her lips. "That mysterious old man, again, dear? You've spoken to him again?"

"Not since the half moon, but he'll be by again soon. He's always around when I need some encouragement."

"You've been speaking of him quite often, as of late."

"Have I?"

She gave a deep pause, contemplating her next words. "Are you sure you can trust him?"

Castea opened her eyes at that and looked back at the head servant with an expression that was surer than ever before. "More than anyone."

In the late afternoon sun, Castea went out on a walk. She casually greeted the rest of the townsfolk and bought some of their wares in the marketplace, as well as a trinket or two for Marguerite. Mostly, she just wanted to feel free, away from her world that had grown so small.

"Castea?"

She slowed to a stop and turned, seeing Sebastian for the first time in years. He looked so much older, wiser. There was a slight crinkle around his eyes that spoke of a weariness that hadn't been present in his youth. But there was a happiness to his gaze that was new, too. As she looked at him, even after all the time that had past, she still felt such fondness.

"It is you, Castea. I thought-"

"Watch how you speak to your queen," one of her guards called out from her side.

Castea glared over at the man. The guards had been an unwelcome addition to her life after she'd been crowned. It hadn't been her idea, and each of the men had been handpicked by Barsilisk. "Watch how you speak to my people." The man seemed taken aback and she watched in amusement as he apologized and bowed. "I would like to share some words with him. Surely you can give your queen some privacy."

"Certainly, your grace." They backed off, creating a small perimeter around her and Sebastian. It wasn't as much privacy as she would have liked, but it would do.

Finally she turned back to him, though his attention had strayed to the royal guard surrounding them. "Hello, Sebastian."

"You have guards?"

"Yes, I suspect they are more for keeping me in line than for my protection, but…" She caught herself from speaking out any further. "Is that all you wanted, Sebastian?" She didn't mean to sound so brusque, but their previous interaction still tormented her thoughts.

Guilt fell into his expression as he looked back at her. He stared, taking in all of her features. "How… How are you?"

"Does that really concern you?"

He flinched at the sting of her words. He deserved her anger, he supposed. He knew that he had abandoned her at a time when she needed him most. But there had to be some way he could make up for that. "I was wrong. We are friends. We always have been. I just… needed to realize that." He'd been a coward, and Castea had paid the price. He knew that now. He couldn't push her away anymore, even if it hurt more in the long run. "I am deeply sorry."

She had told herself that she wouldn't fall apart in front of anyone anymore, but this was Sebastian. The man that would always hold a piece of her heart. She found it increasingly difficult to keep her composure.

He went in to hug her, but a look from the nearest guard stopped him. "How have you been?"

"I'm fine," she said, and gave a smile that was about as hollow as her statement. "I'm always fine. A queen handles her struggles with dignity and grace. I just feel so…"

"Alone? You aren't alone."

She wanted to take comfort in those words, but how could he say that when he hadn't been there to support her?

"I'm sorry I haven't been here." He swallowed, green eyes misting over as he looked down at her. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you after Lord Epsian passed. That- The grief must be unbearable, even now."

"I'm fine."

"When was the last time you said that and meant it?!" he snapped.

She flinched back, her fingers unconsciously fiddling with the hem of her sleeve.

Sebastian traced the action with his eyes and saw the fear within her expression as she stared down at the ground. Slowly, so as not to startle her, he carefully took her wrist and gently tugged up the lace to reveal a deep, purpling bruise. "Tell me that isn't the king's handiwork." When Castea didn't speak, he glanced over at the guards, all now conveniently looking away and acting ignorant toward her plight. "It is, isn't it? Gods, Castea, why would you let him-"

"How is your wife, Sebastian?" She cut him off, reminding him that it wasn't his business. The state of her physical well-being was no longer his burden to bear. Her sleeve fell back into place as their conversation turned. "I heard…" The words caught in her throat and even clearing it didn't seem to be effective in dislodging them. "I heard… I heard that you are expecting your second. Congratulations."

Sensing that she didn't wish to speak of herself anymore, he indulged her question. He spoke about his wife and his daughter, and the new one on the way. He spoke about the farm and their troubles. About how his wife no longer taught, but had taken to motherhood just as well.

Happiness. That was all Castea could hear in his voice. She didn't need to pay attention to what he was saying to hear it. He was happy. She knew somewhere in her heart that she should share in his joy, but all she could see now was a happiness she could never attain.

"How about you?"

His question brought her back to their conversation and she shuttered her sorrow behind a mask of interest. "What did you say?"

"I asked about you. Are you two…?"

His cheeks appeared to flush and she suspected it was due to something other than embarrassment. "Trying. Barsilisk wishes for a boy, most avidly."

"Well, I know any child of yours, boy or girl, will be lovely. And will hopefully carry the tradition of your hair." He stepped into her space, ignoring the glaring eyes of the men surrounding them, and ran his large hand through her fair blonde locks.

"My sister's has always been better. Golden like sunshine."

Sebastian shook his head. "Yours is white and pure, like untouched snow."

She noted the affection within his voice. It hurt to pull away, but they couldn't continue on in that manner. Nothing good could come from it. "I best be off," she began as she stepped out of his reach. "I wish your family the best." She truly did, even if it killed her to do so.

"I'm here, Castea. Never forget that."

"I won't, Sebastian."

Her husband arrived at about the same time as nightfall. She still sat at the dining table, her supper untouched. She couldn't stomach it, not then. Not when her husband came waltzing in rife with the smell of illicit actions.

"You haven't eaten?"

"I thought I would wait for you…" She let her words drop off, her disgust and disappointment clear in her tone. He met that with a look that chilled her to her core, though she hardly cared anymore.

"I heard you went out into town today. Spoke with some commoners?"

"I'm surprised you could hear anything outside of whatever bed you were occupying this afternoon-"

Barsilisk slammed his hand down on the table. "That," he spat, "is enough."

He strode across the room, soon coming to her side as he glowered down at her. She only looked back up into his eyes. His frown softened into a slight smile as he bent down and kissed the crown of her head. "I don't wish to quarrel today." He stood back up as his palm slid down into her white locks.

Castea repressed the urge to pull away. She didn't want his touch. His fingers weren't like Marguerites, so careful and soothing, or like Sebastian's that spoke of years of past intimacy. They weren't like Belphegor's that brought her feelings of safety and the promise of a better tomorrow. No, they were as callous and harsh as their owner.

She yelped as he gripped her hair in one hand and yanked her head back. In that position, she was forced to meet his eyes, to watch as his smile lilted back into a sneer. "Yet you continue to try my patience." He pulled her up by her hair and dragged her into the next room. "I'm not sure this style is fitting for a queen of your stature. Maybe it's time for a cut."

"Barsilisk, please-" She stumbled after him as his grip tightened. After a few more strides, they were in front of the large, beveled mirror that decorated the sitting room. He held her there, both of them staring into their reflection as Castea fought off her renewed fear of her husband. He caressed her paling face with his free hand and she squirmed as she tried to move away from him. His face darkened, in response.

He grasped her chin, his fingertips digging into her jaw. "A queen should not cavort around with commoners, especially not someone like that Sebastian fellow."

A steel weight sank into her gut as realization dawned on her. This wasn't about her hair, or her speaking openly about his affairs. This was about how she chose to spend her afternoon, and who she chose to spend it with. A familiar fire lit within her and she readied her tongue to speak against such blatant hypocrisy. She fell silent as he drew his dagger from his side.

Bringing the knife up against her neck, he acted as if he were simply indicating the length that would be cut from her hair. "About there. It will be beautiful, yes?"

It took everything in her to stay still. The dagger was cold against her skin, its sharp edge serving to remind her who held the power between them. "Whatever you think is b-best, l-love."

"Well, then, what are we waiting for?"

With a swipe of his blade her snow white tresses fell. She shut her eyes against the image, her face scrunched up as she steadily felt her head getting lighter.

When he was done, she opened her eyes. There was almost nothing left. Her chopped up hair came down to just past her ears. She could only stare dully at her reflection, unfeeling as he embraced her from behind. "Much better than that horse hair you had. We'll have Marguerite trim it up better tomorrow. Now, why don't we retire early? Etro knows, maybe we'll finally conceive our son."

She watched as he put his hand against her stomach. She didn't feel it. She didn't feel much of anything for the rest of the night.