The next morning...
G'Kar watched Londo pacing back and forth in his office.
"You will need new floors before long if you keep this up," G'Kar told him, gesturing toward the marble floor.
Londo stopped at his wet bar and poured himself a shot of brivari, throwing it back before pouring another. "Would you like one?" he asked G'Kar.
"It's 10 a.m., Mollari," G'Kar sat back in an overstuffed Centauri chair.
"You sound like Timov," Mollari muttered.
"You look like you haven't slept all night," G'Kar's eyes moved back and forth as he watched the Emperor. Londo flung a hand out in dismissal of G'Kar's comment, but his ragged appearance confirmed G'Kar's suspicions.
"Papa," Senna burst into Londo's private study, "where is the Empress? I stopped by her quarters, and her bed hasn't been slept in, and no one servicing the royal suite has seen her this morning."
"Senna . . . ." Londo put up his palms, a stunned look on his face.
Senna glanced from Londo to G'Kar and back again. "Is she in the dungeon?" Senna asked suspiciously. "Papa, you cannot keep her there again! She was only trying to help – to help you. She didn't trust the Minister of Defense, so she was buying you time. You can't blame her for what happened. If anything, it was my fault. I'm the one who agreed to marry Toscaneli."
Mollari sputtered, unable to summon words.
"Papa," Senna stepped closer, "where is she?" She didn't like what she saw in Londo's anguished expression, and she paused, realization dawning. Pleading, she said, "Tell me, at least, that she is in the dungeon."
Mollari looked at the floor, a grim look on his face.
"How could you?" Senna whispered to him, horrified. "How could you do that to Timov – after everything she has done for you? Is this who you are?" Tears filled Senna's eyes and her chin trembled as she glanced at G'Kar. "It isn't the first time that you've had someone killed, though, is it? Is it as easy for you to command executions as it was for Cartagia - on a whim? Yesterday, you killed the President of the Centaurum. And years ago, you ordered my real father killed." She glanced at G'Kar. "Is this one of the Narn who helped you do it?"
Londo and G'Kar exchanged silent glances, but Senna saw it and she cried, "You did!"
"No, of course not. G'Kar had nothing to do with it," Londo lied, trying to calm her down. "It was a Narn mob that killed Refa."
Senna stepped backward, clapping a hand over her mouth in horror as anger bubbled in her chest. She let her hand fall, but rage blazed in her eyes, "You aren't fit to wear the white! You aren't fit to lead our people as emperor! I thought you had changed from the man who killed my father. I gave you the benefit of the doubt – for all these years. And now, you've done it all over again," she shuddered, brushing away the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. "You never deserved her. You don't deserve anyone." Senna turned for the door.
"Senna, wait!" Londo called out to her.
Senna did not turn or stop, and the two guards at the door stepped into her path, silently blocking her exit.
She spun on her heel, "Will you keep me as a prisoner here, too?"
"Senna, please, I would never—"
"—Just as you would never keep Timov prisoner? Never order her execution?"
Londo's mouth snapped and he frowned deeply. At last, he gestured to the guards to step aside. "Let her go," he said quietly, unable to meet her blazing eyes any further.
Senna stormed out of the room, her eyes red with tearful anger.
"Well," G'Kar called out to Londo with a frown, "that was awkward."
Londo slammed his fist into his desk and took the closest object – a handcrafted crystal seal of the Republic – and shattered it against the opposite wall. Londo dropped himself into his chair, breathing hard in frustration.
"I heard that you had adopted Refa's daughter, and I wondered how well that would—"
At the brisk sound of boots snapping together, the heads of Londo and G'Kar both turned, and standing at the door was Phylakios. In his hands, he held before him a small inlaid wooden box, and he offered it toward the Emperor as he bowed.
Londo pushed himself out of his chair, taking a moment to calm himself before he slowly approached the box. "This is the proof I asked for?" he asked.
Phylakios nodded once in agreement as Londo reticently came nearer.
Londo stared at the box for some time before he finally nodded. "All right," he said pensively.
Phylakios flipped the clasp and lifted the box's lid for the Emperor to see.
G'Kar stood nearby, craning his head to see what was in the box.
There, laid gently on the velvet was a ponytail of gray hair accompanied by a delicate pinky finger, a lady's signet ring depicting the House of Alghul still attached to it.
Londo immediately pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and placed it over his nose and mouth, trying to prevent himself from gagging. Finally, with his free hand, he gestured at Phylakios to close the box. Putting his handkerchief away, he looked ill, but he flipped a communication switch on his desk and sent for the Royal Physician.
The three men waited in grim silence until the Royal Physician arrived, holding a small device in his hand. Londo looked at the doctor and jerked his head toward the box. Once again, Phylakios opened the box, and G'Kar noticed that this time, Londo couldn't even look at the contents.
The physician scanned the severed finger, and a digital file appeared on a tiny monitor on his device. The physician frowned at the screen but returned to the Emperor, showing him the monitor. "There is no question – it is the Empress's DNA, Majesty."
Londo dismissed the doctor, telling him, "You will tell no one of this."
As the doctor departed, Phylakios closed and latched the lid, still holding it reverently in both hands.
"The deed is done, then," Londo said, his voice strained, "You may take the box to her unmarked grave. The Crown thanks you for your service these past years, Phylakios. I suppose you will return home and enjoy a well-deserved respite with your family?"
"Not quite yet, Your Majesty. I have duties elsewhere that will keep me busy," Phylakios gently emphasized the words.
The Emperor trembled, his knees suddenly weak, "Did you say duties elsewhere?" he murmured.
Phylakios nodded. "Yes, Majesty. "
Tears filled Londo's eyes, and he grasped Phylakios shoulder, speechless. When he recovered himself, he jerked his head toward the box and whispered, "Was it painless?"
"As painless as possible, Majesty," Phylakios replied tactfully.
Londo was lost for words, but he turned for his wet bar, regaining his voice. "I would like to have a drink with you," he said, suddenly determined.
"With apologies, Your Majesty, it would not reflect well on the royal guards to be inebriated at the palace," Phylakios replied.
"No," Londo frowned, letting go of the brivari decanter he had picked up reluctantly, "I suppose not."
Londo jerked his head toward the door, "I know I offered you a pension yesterday, Phylakios, but today I-I find I am still in need of your service."
Phylakios tugged his uniform into place. "It is my honor, Majesty. How may I serve the Crown?"
Londo had a haunted look in his eyes, "Senna is understandably angry with me. I think she is planning to leave the palace, and she could get into trouble very quickly. You still command her security detail as well as Vir's - and you must ensure she doesn't do anything rash. The Princess may come and go as she likes - as long as she takes her security detail with her if she leaves the palace grounds."
"Understood. I will see to it, Majesty."
Londo patted the soldier on the arm, his face falling as he glanced at the box again. "Thank you, Phylakios, for your service."
Phylakios tucked the box under his arm and snapped his heels together, bowing, before he disappeared out the door.
Inside the Princess's carriage, Phylakios sat stiffly next to the Princess, stoic and silent until they had left the gates.
"What are you carrying?" Senna turned to Phylakios, squinting at the box he had tucked under his arm. "May I?" she gestured to it.
"Your Highness," he turned to her, "I would not recommend—"
Senna had already taken the box from him and she ran her fingers over the ornate lid before she abruptly unlocked the clasp. As it opened, she gasped, staring at Phylakios. "Oh gods!"
Phylakios snatched the box back, closing it quickly. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, fumbling with the latch.
"Phylakios," she grasped his sleeve. "Where is she?"
"Her Majesty?" Phylakios asked.
"Yes," Senna said, "Where is her body? I would like to pay my respects."
"I-I . . . " he mumbled.
"I order you, Phylakios, to take me to see her body," Senna said, pleading. "I just want to say goodbye. Please . . . ."
Phylakios looked into Senna's pleading eyes. "I will take you to her place of rest," he said, bowing his head.
Senna instructed the carriage pilots to alter their course, and within a short time, they found themselves on the lawn of the Great House.
Senna walked slowly behind Phylakios, but when the door opened to the Great House and swung shut behind her, her tears turned to joy when she heard a familiar voice call out to her, "Oh, child!"
The previous night ...
The Empress debarked from the royal carriage with a grim but determined look on her face, and Phylakios dutifully escorted her into the dark of the Centauri countryside.
"I suppose you will do it here," Timov said, stopping abruptly as they left the sight of the carriage.
"Yes, I'm sorry about all of this," Phylakios told her.
She turned and faced the royal soldier. "There are a few things I need to tell you before you fulfill your duty." She launched into the story of the Drakh, filling Phylakios in on the details so he could pass them along to the rest of the Resistance, their only hope for defeating the Drakh.
Phylakios gasped at the admission that the Drakh had infiltrated their planet and taken their Emperor as a pawn, "At last we know what has been behind Emperor Mollari's madness – and his orders make more sense now."
"You mean why he ordered you to kill me? Yes, that is why." Timov shook her head in disgust at the thought of the Drakh.
"His Majesty never ordered me to kill you," Phylakios revealed.
Timov's sharp blue eyes tried to read his meaning as she briskly addressed him, "I'm not going senile, Phylakios, I was standing there in the throne room, just as you were."
"His Majesty's instructions were not as clear cut as he made them seem," Phylakios replied. "He was engaged in two conversations - the first was for my ears alone, and the second for everyone else."
"Don't be absurd," Timov sputtered.
"Let me recount the meeting with the Emperor from my perspective, Majesty, and then you may judge for yourself," he told her quietly.
"Go on, then." Although she questioned the sanity of his words, Timov respected Phylakios, and she listened intently.
"His Majesty made it clear that he wanted his wishes followed, subject to no one else, and he ripped up my contract," Phylakios said.
"Yes," Timov agreed, "he made his wishes on that topic clear enough."
Phylakios stretched out his gloved hand toward the direction of Porto in the distances. "Years ago, when he sent you, the Princess, and the Royal Adjutant from the palace, he placed your well-being in my care. I remember how extraordinary his order was because he authorized me to act independently of the palace – it meant, of course, that I was to operate independently of him - to ensure your safety. He told me your safety was my primary mission, even if it meant contradicting his orders. So, when he asked me if I remembered my mission from so many years ago now - how could I forget it?"
Taken aback at Phylakios' words, Timov murmured, "Of course, an emperor's commands continue until he rescinds them."
"Yes," Phylakios continued. "And during the meeting in the palace, once he had reminded me of it, His Majesty said that it was still my duty to carry out that mission."
"You never told me about this order before," Timov glanced at Phylakios.
Phylakios clasped his hands behind him. "As Emperor Mollari said – it is difficult to serve two masters."
"But he threatened your family," Timov added pointedly.
"Then he mentioned that every Centauri's family is important to them," Phylakios interjected. "I think by saying every Centauri's family was important that he was trying to emphasize that his family was as important to him as mine is to me."
Timov pointed at Phylakios's chest, "But I clearly heard him tell you to kill—"
"—No, he told you, Majesty, what would happen to you. He never directed an order to kill you to me or the other royal guards. He ordered us to keep a secret concerning your whereabouts. And then, he merely said he required evidence that you had been killed."
Timov stared, stunned. The resolution and bravery she had shown at the prospect of her own death crumbled away, and she brought her hands to her face as she sobbed at last, a wave of emotion overwhelming her.
"Even after everything that has happened," she whispered, "he is still fighting - he hasn't given up."
Phylakios stood quietly as Timov's tears fell into the grass, and finally, he put his arms gently around the diminutive empress, allowing her to stain his uniform with her tears.
"Great Maker," Timov pulled back and brushed away her tears with embarrassment. "I—I thought it was to be my last night on Centauri Prime, and I thought I could hold it together. But it appears I am reduced to a leaking wreck."
"The gods did not have you fated to leave us so soon," Phylakios offered. "Besides, His Majesty gave you orders as well," Phylakios told her.
"I don't know what you are talking about," Timov tipped her chin up.
"His Majesty told you – 'Oureiariouro re eusaulo.' He wants you to lead the Resistance against the Drakh. He knows that everyone has competing allegiances and interests, but the Crown is the one thing that binds all Centauri together. You and Princess Senna have been the only reasons we have been able to organize the South and beyond to support resistance efforts. You are critical to our success. If we must fight the Drakh, we need someone – a symbol – to unite us – just as you united us against the unknown madness seizing the emperor, now you must unite us against the known darkness of the Drakh."
Timov shook her head, trying to clear away the remaining tears. "Phylakios, enough of this talk, you could be putting your family in jeopardy if you do not take him my head, and I won't be a party to it."
"I thank you for that, Empress Timov, but as clear as his message was to everyone else in the room, his message to me was equally clear. His Majesty has shown, repeatedly, that he cares very much for you, and I suspect anyone who lifts a blade against you will be subject to His Majesty's wrath – and he would probably find his head sitting on a pike next to the President of the Centaurum. I will wager my life on what I believe His Majesty ordered me to do – and what not to do – in the throne room."
Timov bit her lip, "But how can you deliver the evidence that I've died?"
Phylakios stared at the ground, "That is where things get difficult. The only evidence that would convince the Drakh that you are dead is a body part. But which body part, I leave to you. I'm afraid there is no alternative to that."
Timov clasped her hands and closed her eyes in thought. "I prefer my hair shorn short, but some years ago, Senna talked me into growing a ponytail in the style of other Centauri women. If we cut it," she ran her hand over her smooth head to the Centauri ponytail gathered at the back of her skull, "he will know it is mine."
"A good idea and a perfect finishing touch," Phylakios offered gently, "but that will not convince the Drakh of your death. You must provide something you would could not part with so easily."
Timov glanced at her hands. "But I am actually attached to all of my limbs," she said dreading losing any of them. She thought a moment, turning toward the practicalities of the situation. "They say you need your toes for balance, and I'd rather not lose anything larger - not an ear or a head - so I suppose a finger will do." For the first time in a long while, she smiled as she turned to Phylakios, "Do you think Londo would get the message if I sent him a middle finger?"
Phylakios chuckled, "I think you would place His Majesty in a difficult position – how could he contain his reaction to such a gesture?"
"Oh, all right," Timov said, her smile fading. "You will cut my ponytail first and then we'll get on with it and sever a finger. Better than my head, I suppose. I just need a moment to compose myself."
After a few minutes, Phylakios glanced at the time, knowing he needed to make the long journey back before nightfall. "Your Majesty, it is time. I am truly sorry for what I must do."
"It is your duty," she replied. "And I would not put your family at risk. It must be done – let there be no more apologies. I am ready for what is to come."
Phylakios unsheathed his coutari. "The cut will be easier if you extend your head."
Timov complied, and for a brief moment, the moonlight danced off the polished silver of Phylakios's coutari before it sliced through the evening air, severing the gray pony tail.
Phylakios retrieved the ponytail, arranging it in the box her had brought.
"Quickly," Timov told him, extending her pinky, "before I lose my nerve."
She looked away, and the coutari swiftly fell again, a perfectly placed strike that severed her pinky from her hand.
Phylakios immediately wound a bandage around her palm to help stop the bleeding. "The other guards," he told her, "will take you wherever you would like to go. They are my hand-picked men. But we must find a safe place for you. You are the most recognizable women on Centauri Prime, and we must keep you hidden to ensure your life."
Timov squeezed her bloody hand, trying not to think of the pain throbbing where her pinky used to be. "Take me to the Great House of House Mollari."
"Not the residence of House Alghul?"
"Absolutely not," Timov said, determined. "I prefer an empty Great House to House Alghul. Imagine me trying to keep that lot in some semblance of order after all these years – it is almost too much to imagine! And anyway, Londo hasn't visited the Great House in years, and I know I can count on the allegiance of everyone there. It is guarded like a fortress in case Londo decides, on a whim, to return, which he won't," she said matter-of-factly. "The Great House will be far more secure than my family's estate. And my presence there will be aided by Londo's cover story that I am receiving treatment for my illness. If our neighbors find out that I have returned, I can confide in them that I am ill and request their assistance in keeping my whereabouts private from the press, and they will keep my secret - the neighbors have tangled with me in the past and lost. And I suspect, given what has happened over the past few years and in particular the past few weeks, it would not be as safe at Vir's estate."
"It is true that you acted as Emperor, and many of the aliens, telepaths, and resistance fighters may be disappointed you did not make more changes in your brief tenure, but they understand the role you have played these many years. I can assure you that all of them will follow your orders, and I will ensure wherever you go is safe, Majesty."
Timov inclined her head, "Thank you, Phylakios. I think, for now, the best place will be at the Great House."
Phylakios bowed low, "As you wish."
Timov stopped him with a hand, "Please – I understand we must maintain the fiction that I am dead – but if you have the chance to tell Londo . . . ."
"He can never know, Majesty," Phylakios said resolutely. "It would mean your life, his life, and my life."
Timov looked up, unable to meet Phylakios in the eye. "I know, but it isn't quite fair, is it? After all these years and all that he has been through - to let him think that you didn't get his covert message – to let him think there is a chance that I am dead . . . ."
Phylakio's face was the image of stone, "It is the way it must be, Majesty. He cannot know."
"But if the opportunity arises—"
"If the opportunity presents itself," Phylakios reassured her, "I will try to inform him. But my foremost duty is to ensure your safety, not to inform His Majesty when the mere act of telling him could put you in danger."
Timov tightened her grip around her injured hand, "No, of course not," she said, sniffing. "I suppose I had better get going. Now that we know about the Drakh, there is no time for idleness and a great deal of work to be done."
From the tone of her voice, Phylakios knew that the firm hand at the helm of the Centauri resistance had returned, more determined than ever.