Chapter 4

Brady sighed deeply, once again bringing his hands up to massage his temples. He'd arrived in Arcadia nearly 2 hours ago, and the kings had been in meeting ever since. The meeting was unfortunately going just like last nights meeting in Nero, the only difference being the difference in topic. Though Jason was the ally which had brought King David to the meeting, the two had been bickering over one thing or another ever since the meeting began. At current, they were arguing over the cons of uniting the countries, with David's daughter Miriam standing awkwardly against the wall behind them, looking back and forth between her father and the man who held her heart. Shawn was just as frustrated as Brady, sitting directly across from Jason and David.

"...But don't you see, Jason, a union between the countries against Mucche may not be enough! It is no secret that the Mucchean army is strong. Though a union would make us more equal in number, it might only result in further angering the Mucchean people!" David argued.

"What are you saying, David? What else is there to do? Try to talk PEACE with those butchers? Ha! That'll be the day when pigs fly!" Jason returned stubbornly. Shawn shook his head disapprovingly, catching Brady's eye. For such great friends, given only through Miriam and Jason's affection for her, David and Jason sure as hell couldn't agree on anything. Brady shrugged at Shawn's "what are we going to do about them?" look; Brady could easily handle his council members, but 2 hotheaded Kings were quite a different story.

"Jason, you know I despise them as much as you do. But at this point, Arcadia is not in any danger. Perhaps if we were to try and talk peace..."

"You would find yourself in an early grave, David," Brady interjected. "There is not a single person, man woman or child, who can be trusted to keep their word in Mucche. And that goes double for King Philip and his men. You go there, and you'll not only be surrendering your country, but your life." David had been doing some thinking since Shawn summoned Brady to the meeting, and at this point believed that a more peaceful approach was the only answer.

"Father, you know he's right. Please reconsider going to that dreadful place," Miriam pleaded, finally speaking up from her place pressed nervously against the wall. David had gone so far as to arrange for travel, which had outraged Jason to no end.

"Miriam, you were not asked to speak..."

"Then you shouldn't have asked her to attend the meeting!" Jason snapped.

"Would you both just shut up?" Brady demanded, finally growing weary of their constant bickering. "Look, David... I understand your fears, and you're need to protect your own people. But Jason is right. There is no peaceful way to approach King Philip. Believe me, if there were, I would be all for it, as I am just as sick of this war as the rest of you. But there isn't. A union between us is our only option. I know you want to believe that there is a way to avoid Mucche going after Arcadia, but that is completely false hope. Deep down, you know that if Mucche succeeds in capturing Rubino, Supervisore and Arcadia are next." David seemed to want to argue, but paused, before sighing in defeat, lowering his head to look at his hands on the table.

"I know you are right, Brady, but I can not help but feel perhaps this was a rash decision," David stated.

"We understand your concerns, David. Uniting our countries is a huge step, and shouldn't we taken lightly. But I'm afraid we do not have any other option. You must see this from Brady and my point of view. David, our people's rights are being violated. Neutral townspeople were being taken from their homes and sold into slavery, within the walls of Nero no less! That has been handled, but if we do not take action now, there is no telling what could happen in the future, not only in Rubino and Nero, but Arcadia and Supervisore," Shawn argued. David nodded, as if in agreement.

"I know, Shawn, I know. I suppose I still believe in my father's words, that no good can come from fighting. But, we have no other choice. I know that, I just don't want to have to accept it," David stated. "What do you plan to do if we do unite the countries?"

"The only thing we can, David. Attack Mucche full force," Brady answered, sitting up slightly in his chair. "We would need to move the armies into the Neroean mountains, on the border between Nero and Mucche. Jason, Shawn, and I agree, the best approached is a surprise attack, just before dawn when the day is at it's darkest. My men could attack from the east, while Shawn's men would file in from the south. Jason's would travel by river to attack from the west, and your men would take the northern front."

"But wouldn't that leave our men far too spread out? Mucche will have the advantage if we go into their territory; they'll have their home ground to attack from. If we spread out like you have suggested, wouldn't that leave us at far too great a disadvantage?" David questioned. That of course had been the main issue between Jason, Shawn, and Brady since the plan was formed.

"It might, but it leaves the Muccheans with no path for escape. If we spread the men equally between only 3 sides, or even 2, they could retreat if need be. Our best chance is to surround them without being noticed." Brady answered.

"My only problem with this plan, David, is that the land west of Mucche is uncharted. But I think my men could handle it. Attacking from the northern front would leave you with the river to use to your advantage," Jason stated.

"How would you coordinate the attack, Jason?" Miriam asked quietly. She was a very curious young woman, asking as many questions as her father. She so often feared for her father's life; he was not as young as he used to be after all. Miriam felt it her duty to learn all she could about ruling a kingdom, should her father ever become unable to rule. Connor was still to young to take his father's place, and as much as Miriam hated to consider it, her mother, Queen Maureen Lockhart, was growing far too old herself.

"Shawn over there suggested using trained birds to communicate," Jason smirked in reply.

"Hey! It has worked in the past you know..." Shawn protested.

"Don't you two start," Brady stated. "That's something we're just going to have to take as it comes to us, Miriam. Signaling one another might tip off the Muccheans as to what we're doing, so I'm afraid we'll just have to go blindly, specifying an exact time for attack and just hoping that everyone is ready and in position. We can coordinate using riders on horseback if there is time. It's risky, but unfortunately it's the best we can do," Brady explained.

"Don't worry, Meems, the battle isn't going to be half as tricky as getting all of us to agree on the same issue," Jason reassured. Jason was perhaps the only person on the face of the earth who could get away with calling her Meems. She even hated it when her parents called her that. But not Jason... it was like the ultimate compliment from Jason for some strange reason.

"Now that I agree with," Shawn scoffed. Brady rolled his eyes at his friends arrogant tone, moving a quill off a parchment that lay in front of him.

"I sometimes wonder why our kingdoms are so prosperous, considering children are running them," Brady murmured under his breath. "Here, David, this is our official declaration of unity against Mucche. Jason, Shawn and I have all agreed to the terms, now all it needs are our signatures." Brady stated, placing the parchment in front of David. David nodded, retrieving a pair of looking glasses from within his robe and putting them on so he could read. He picked the document off the table, bringing it closer to his eyes.

"Father, why do you even bother with those old things? You see worse when you put them on," Miriam commented. David merely waved her off, as her stubborn father often did.

"Well, I can certainly tell you wrote this yourself, young Black. Most your age wouldn't comprehend half the words in this damn thing," David stated, which of course was meant as a compliment. Though David favored Jason when it came to marrying off his daughter, he had always held Brady in his highest opinion, as well as his father John before him. But John had allowed his grief to swallow up all the good he could have accomplished. David only hoped such a fate did not befall Brady.

"Am I to take that to mean you agree to these terms King David?" Brady questioned.

"Hmmm... on one condition," David answered.

"And what is that?" Brady asked curiously. David peered over his old reading glasses at him, reaching for the quill next to Brady's hand.

"You let the old man sign first," David answered, causing all uneasy faces in the meeting hall to spread into grins at David's attempt had humor. Brady chuckled, scooting an ink well over to David.

"You think we'd have it any other way?" Brady commented. David was first to sign the document, followed by Jason, Shawn, and finally, Brady himself scrawled his name across the bottom corner. "So, we're finally in agreement." Brady stated, finishing off the decree with his signature.

"For once," Jason added, flashing his famous grin, which Princess Miriam secretly found irresistible.

"What are your plans now, Brady? Such an event as this... won't be kept secret for long." David pointed out.

"Unfortunately, you're right. I have no doubt that some of King Philip's more intelligent leaders will catch wind of the union and report back to Philip. We'll need to strike quickly. How quickly, is up to the rest of you." Brady answered.

"It'll take at least half a day if not more to get my entire army into the western mountains by river," Jason pointed out.

"Yes, getting your men into position will be trickiest, you have the farthest to travel. What I'm most concerned about is... well, it's just a rumor I've heard, but I'm concerned that Michael, Philip's Head General, might have guards posted as watch along the river bank further west. Why he would, I don't know. I sure as hell know it wouldn't be Philip's doing. Philip wouldn't suspect an attack from the west. But Michael is very well trained in the arts of war. He might be a difficult challenge to face," Brady stated.

"Where did you hear that Michael has men posted along the riverside? You said it was just rumor, can you assure us the source is reliable?" Shawn questioned. Brady nodded.

"Yes, Shawn, I can assure you of the reliability of my sources. Though it's just a rumor, it is one that we should take with extreme caution. If there are guards posted along the riverside, and so much as one manages to make it back into the city to report to Philip, then the plan will be completely crushed. Jason won't have time to get into position before Philip's men are alerted, let alone time to report back to us that our cover has been blown," Brady answered.

"Perhaps we shouldn't take the chance of being seen. Jason's men could travel by land though Rubino and cross the river after they've passed the Mucchean border..."

"No, Shawn, that would take much longer. We'll already be pressed for time, taking his men by way of the river will take long enough as it is," David interrupted.

"David's right, we'll just have to take the chance, Shawn. Don't worry, I'll be on the lookout. If there are guards posted, my men will make sure not a one of them lives to report back to their precious, moronic king," Jason stated proudly.

"Jason..." Miriam warned, placing a hand on his shoulder. It was apparent to everyone that had ever met the two, that Miriam Lockhart already had Jason Masters completely and 100 percent whipped.

"I know, I know... I shouldn't say such things about people of much lower intelligence..." Jason muttered. Shawn chuckled, unable to contain the laugh.

"Jason, you are without a doubt already whipped," Shawn stated. Acting very unkingly, as Jason often did when around his closest friends, he stuck out his tongue in reply, tossing the quill in his direction.

"Yeah yeah, and you'll be just as whipped when you find yourself a girl, so shut up Shawnie Boy," Jason returned. Shawn's grin faded, and Jason immediately regretted it. As was often the case, Jason was left to feel like a complete jack ass. "Shawn, I didn't mean..." David cleared his throat, interrupting Jason's plea for forgiveness.

"Well, I believe we have almost everything settled. Accept when to carry out this plan, of course." David stated.

"It should be as quickly as possible. David, how soon can you have your men rallied and prepared for departure?" Brady asked.

"Well, it is our Summer Solstice, so most of the men have been allowed to return home from the training camps for the holiday. But it won't take long to have them all recalled into duty. They could be ready to depart as quickly as we need them to be" David answered.

"Good. Shawn, Jason, what about you? How soon can you be ready?"

"No longer then it would take David to rally his men," Shawn answered for them both. "Jason and I could leave Arcadia this afternoon, take tomorrow to get the men prepared, and we could put the plan into action the following day."

"Excellent. But I want to give Jason plenty of time. Shawn, why don't you have your men meet mine in the mountains along the eastern border the morning after tomorrow. They could set up camp there that day, then the following day your men would move to the south. That gives Jason more then plenty of time to get his men safely to the western border, and more then enough time for David to get his men off holiday leave," Brady stated.

"That sounds fair, but why not do it as Shawn said and attack the day after tomorrow instead of waiting? Waiting might give Philip time to learn of our plans," David pointed out. Brady paused, pondering his answer. He had been all for the quickest departure before. But now... he got a feeling... he couldn't describe it. It's like, somehow deep down, he knew there was now a way around attacking Mucche. It's almost as if he knew there would never be any fight at all.

"I honestly don't think Philip will learn of our attack before it's too late. But as to why I wish to wait... I can't answer that, David. I know I was pulling for a quick, night attack, but... something is telling me that we need to wait," Brady answered.

"Are you beginning to believe there is some way around this war? Because if you have any other ideas, Brady, let us know. Whether we win or lose this one blow, all of us are going to lose many of our men. There is no way around that," David stated.

"I know. I don't know of any other way to do this. Not yet at least. But, will you all just trust me on this? We'll take tomorrow to prepare, and the next to get into position. We'll attack just before the dawn 2 days from now."

"We do trust you, Brady," Shawn replied, receiving a nod of agreement from both Jason and David.

"Well, now that that's all settled... Miriam, would you please alert the kitchen staff that we're to have a grand luncheon before out guests depart this afternoon," David instructed. Miriam nodded, bowing politely.

"Yes father," Miriam replied, quietly dismissing herself from the meeting hall. David stood, as did Shawn, Jason, and Brady.

"Shall we retire to the dining room then, men? In... early celebration, shall we say?"

"David, we haven't even left for battle yet," Brady pointed out, yet with a slight smile on his face.

"Ah yes, but deep down in these old bones, I know we'll win the day. We'll face lose yes, but we'll win the day," David stated.

"I hope you're right, David. I pray to God you're right..."

(A/N: on this scene, Chloe sings a song aloud to herself. I originally wanted to post it in a foreign language with the translation underneath, but Liberty found me a perfect song to describe the feelings of this story, so I'm using it. When you get to that part, just remember that it's being sung aloud in a language completely foreign to Nero and it's inhabitants, it will be explained when you get to it. And another quick thing, I have no idea if Chloe on the show ever draws or paints, but in this story, "Arciana" is very artistically inclined, both in music and visual arts.)

Arciana sighed heavily out of boredom, staring at the drawing below her. She'd been up in her room since Brady left, which had been early that morning. It was now afternoon. She had originally decided to explore the palace, but had immediately discarded the idea. For starters, the place was HUGE, and without someone with her she feared she might get lost. A silly fear, but a fear none the less. The "without someone to guide her" part was what really kept her alone in her room. And it was not just "someone" she wanted to show her around the palace. Exploring the vast beautiful palace would not be the same without Brady. So after watching Brady and Shawn depart that morning, Arciana had went straight to her room. She retrieved the quill and ink from the desk, as well as a papyrus scroll. After putting it on a wooden palette, she laid down on her bed, head facing the headboard, to draw. She used to constantly draw as a child; if she wasn't drawing or painting, she was singing, sleeping, or eating. That had all changed so many years ago. Truth was, she hadn't drawn, or sang for that matter, since the day she'd been sold into slavery. Arciana just hadn't had the passion for either, which distressed her considering art, even as a young child, was her life.

But now, she felt... revived somehow. She felt as if an old part of herself had risen from beneath all the pain and hurt she'd experienced in her short life time and was now shining through. Arciana had been amazed that she could still draw so well after many years. Her first drawing of the morning had been one of Brady. In very fine detail, Arciana had drawn him as she remembered seeing him from the stage at the slave auction. Truth was, at the time, she had not really acknowledge him. But after meeting him, knowing him, she remembered every detail of his face when she first laid eyes on him. After finishing that one, Arciana started on another. This one she had been trying to finish for over an hour and couldn't. It was a drawing of herself as a young child, playing in the courtyard with her twin brother. She had been able to draw the courtyard as she remembered it, but when she went to draw in herself and her brother, the details become sketchy. They were there, on that piece of parchment. And yet they were so different now from what they used to be. Arciana knew she was completely different from that child she had once been. Philip probably was as well. Though she hadn't seen him since she was 8, she knew he'd changed. She could feel it. She just had no idea what he might have changed into. So, when she tried to finish the details on both herself and Philip, nothing came. It was as if she was not meant to finish such a drawing; they were too different to be recognized for what they used to be.

Arciana shook her head, putting the drawing on her bedside table next to the one of Brady, and turned over on her back to look up at the ceiling. It didn't surprise her that she could not finish a drawing of her brother and herself as a child. They would forever be left unfinished, whether it be in a painting or in real life. Arciana would never see Philip again. Truth was, she didn't know if she wanted to. She could feel that he had changed so much, and all the rumors she'd heard about him proved her beliefs to be correct. She didn't even know why she had started that drawing of herself and her brother. She didn't even know she remember what she was like so long ago. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she was carefree and happy, throwing rocks in the fountains in the courtyard with her beloved twin brother. It seemed ages ago that she was happily skipping down the hallways singing a new song she'd learned while completely oblivious to the turmoil and bloody war around her. What she wouldn't give to be so blissfully unaware again. But no, she would not wish to be back there in that place with her family. Philip would have changed with or without her, and she would not have been able to stand seeing him become just like their father. And had she stayed, she might have changed as well. Arciana turned on her stomach once again, placing the unfinished drawing back in front of her.

"Of course you would have changed. You would be Queen now if not for John Black," Arciana murmured aloud to herself, studying the drawing intently. Years ago, such a thought would have seemed laughable. But if her statement was true, then she had a lot to thank John for. Her life in slavery had been a torturous hell, but as Brady had proven, it was one she could escape from. Her family, on the other hand, was inescapable. If she hadn't been kidnaped, she would be Queen at her brother's side. There's no telling how she would have turned out; like her parents perhaps. To her, that would have been a fate worse then death. No amount of power, riches, or any title could make up for living a life of pure evil. No matter how many times Arciana tried to convince herself they weren't, that was exactly what any Kiriakis was; evil to the core. Perhaps they'd been born that way. Or perhaps, they merely let their money and power corrupt them. Who knew? All she knew was that she wanted no part of it. And though she'd lived a hellish life, she was thankful she had escaped life as a Mucchean Princess. Besides... there would be NO way she could handle being Queen. The responsibilities would be too overwhelming. Arciana put the drawing aside again, retrieving the one of Brady.

"What would it be like to be a queen?" Arciana asked herself out loud. She picked up her quill and was about to draw a little more detail into the drawing when she noticed she was out of ink. She sat up to go over to the desk, still thinking aloud. "Well, there'd be the parties, the luncheons, the public announcements," she named off to herself, retrieving the second bottle of ink from her desk. "And the council meetings, court trials, debates, treaty signing." Arciana continued, reclaiming her position laying on her stomach. "But then, there would be the wars, and the famine, droughts, natural disasters, rebellions... the list goes on," Arciana murmured aloud, picking up her quill and dipping it into her ink. "I'll take being a mere peasant any day," Arciana stated, shading in lines to give the other faces around Brady more detail. Since Brady's face was the only one she could really remember, she just drew in general shapes for the people she remember were around Brady. "Being Queen of Mucche would be more of a hell then slavery was. But then, what would being Queen of Nero be like?" Arciana asked herself. Immediately she shook her head, scolding herself, and put the quill down in frustration.

"Don't go there. You know it'll never happen. You can't let it happen," Arciana scolded herself. "I mean... even if he did have any feelings for me... that would all change once he found out I'm really Chloe Kiriakis. And, anyway, he'd never really love me... He's just... he's hurting and needs someone. And it's not like I feel anything really serious towards him." Truth was, she was trying to convince herself of that, not state a fact. Had she already fallen in love with him? Would it even matter if she had? And could Brady love her? Did he already? Arciana shook her head sadly, picking her quill back up. "What difference does it make? For starters, Brady's probably just being nice to me because he feels sorry for me. And maybe, in a way, we connect. Even if there were deeper feelings there... I can't change who my family is. Or who his family is," Arciana stated sadly, beginning to put more detail into her drawing. She sighed deeply, turning her head to the side as she drew, and began to sing a song she'd learned years and years ago.

When he passes me by

He's a ray of light

Like the first drop of sun

From the sky

And I know he's a king

Who deserves a queen

But I'm not a queen

And he doesn't see me

When he dances

He moves me to a smile

And I see everything

Near him shine

There's a grace in his ways

That I can't contain

I haven't that grace

Oh, I haven't that grace

And the closer he gets

I can't help but hide

So ashamed

Of my body and voice

There are boundaries

We pass in spite of the war

But our own

We can't seem to cross

She has a way that surrounds her

So delicate

With a glory that reigns in her life

She is also so much that she is not

These things I can't see

'Cause he doesn't see me

Oh-oh-oh ...

And he doesn't see me

There are things we can change

If we just choose to fight

But the walls of injustice are high

When he passes me by

He's a ray of light

Like the first drop of sun

From the sky

And I know he's a king

Who deserves a queen

Someone other than me

So different from me

Oh-oh-oh ...

He doesn't see me

Oh-oh-oh ...

He doesn't see me

He doesn't see me

While she was singing, Arciana didn't hear the door, which she'd mistakenly left ajar, open a bit more, allowing another figure to creep silently into her room, not wishing to disturb her music. When she finished her song, she was about to reach over to her inkwell when she heard someone speak.

"That was beautiful." The sound made Arciana literally jump, nearly knocking her inkwell over, which would have spilled ink all over her unfinished drawing of Philip and herself. Arciana turned quickly around, sitting straight up, to find Harold standing at the foot of her bed. "Oh my, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to frighten you. I was walking down the hallway when I heard your singing. The door was ajar so I just came quietly in. I didn't want to interrupt your beautiful song." Harold explained.

"Oh, Harold... it's... it's alright. I just, didn't remember leaving the door open," Arciana breathed.

"What was that song you were singing?" Harold ask curiously.

"What?"

"That song. It's not in a language I've ever heard before. Where did you learn it?" Harold asked. Arciana set her drawing of Brady aside, intentionally placing it under that of herself and Philip.

"Oh um... that..." Arciana stammered. "My father, he taught me that song." Fine, so it was a lie. She had learned part of the language from her father, and mother. It was not traditionally spoken in Mucche in present day, but was the original Mucchean language. A nanny had taught her that song, when she was 6 or so.

"Ah, I see. What language is it? Maybe I have heard of it... some of the words sounded vaguely familiar." Arciana hesitated, turning away to straighten her bedside table.

"It's Mucchean," Arciana answered truthfully.

"You're Mucchean?" Harold asked. Not in a horrified or disgusted manner, as she would expect from a Neroean. But in a generally curious tone.

"No, uh... my father... traveled a lot," Arciana answered. Well, it wasn't exactly a lie. Victor did travel a lot... Harold sensed she was lying, and Arciana just knew he knew. "Would you hate to even look at me if I were?" Arciana asked. Just as Harold's question, it was one of curiosity.

"No, I would not," Harold answered truthfully. "Like Brady... well at least how he usually really feels, I don't think anyone is born bad or evil. That's just something a child is taught as they grow up. Although most Muccheans I have crossed paths with were the lowest of low-lifes, I would not automatically think that about someone just because of where they came from. You've already show me, and Brady and Shawn, that you're definitely not evil. So, if you're trying to hint that you are and just are afraid of telling me, whether it be because you fear I'll hate you or I'll tell Brady, I would reconsider that thought if I were you. All I ask, is that you're honest with me when I ask a question, and I'll be as honest with you and your questions." Harold stated. "Tell me really. Are you Mucchean?"

"Not anymore. I haven't been for a very long time," Arciana answered truthfully. She could not, would not, refer to herself as either Mucchean, or a Kiriakis. That wasn't her. Harold nodded, satisfied with her answer. "I truthfully don't know what I am. What I do know, is that I will not let where I'm from decide who I am." Of course, that didn't mean others would decide who she was based on where she was from.

"Then I greatly respect you for that," Harold stated. "So, now... just to humor my curiosity, what were you singing about?"

"Oh, nothing. I just... I've recently felt like doing the things I used to enjoy. Singing was one of them," Arciana stated. Harold nodded towards the drawings on her bedside.

"And drawing another?" Harold asked. "May I see them? I'm a big fan of the arts. If you'd rather I not, I understand..."

"No no, it's alright. You can see them. They aren't really that good. I haven't so much as picked up a quill or paint brush since I was 8," Arciana said. She grabbed one of the drawings, which happened to be the one of Brady, and handed it to Harold, who'd retrieved his ridiculous looking reading glasses. The funniest part about Harold's glasses, were not the fact that they were huge and made his eyes look extremely big, but that he didn't need them. He had perfect vision.

"Why on earth would you say this is no good? The detail is amazing! For someone who hasn't picked up a quill in so long, you're damn good," Harold praised. Of course, the fact that it was a drawing of Brady did not surprise him, nor did the fact that only Brady could be recognized. All the other figures were like faceless shadows, there only because they stood in her view of Brady.

"Thank you," Arciana managed, through a slight blush.

"Is this the town square?" Harold asked. His real question was, of course, being was this from the slave auction. Arciana nodded, retrieving the second drawing. She was not hesitant to show it; who would recognize an unfinished drawing of 2 children? Harold handed back the drawing of Brady, taking the second. "An equally detailed piece. But, it looks unfinished." Harold pointed out.

"You noticed too, huh? I can't seem to finish it. It just doesn't come to me," Arciana said.

"If I may ask, who is it of?" Harold asked quietly, studying the drawing.

"My brother and I," Arciana answered honestly. What really did she have left for Harold to find out, except who her family was? That she would never tell, but she could at least be honest with the people she was becoming to call her friends. Friends... something she'd never really ever had before.

"You have a brother?"

"Yes, I had a brother. A twin brother," Arciana answered, setting back down on her bed and gesturing for Harold to take a seat if he wanted.

"Had? You mean he died? Oh, or you mean, before you..."

"Before I was sold into slavery," Arciana finished. "Yes, that's what I mean. I suppose he's still alive, somewhere."

"And your parents?"

"You know, you ask a lot of questions Harold," Arciana teased. "I'm not sure. I don't imagine they are. I haven't seen them since I was sold into slavery. They were fairly old then, I don't believe they are still living now." She of course knew Victor was dead. Kate, on the other hand, she was not sure of. Some rumors said she was alive. Other said she was long dead. More elaborate tales said she killed herself after Victor's death, and Philip has been keeping her body in her room pretending she was alive ever since. That one she easily ruled out. Philip may have loved his mother because she was his mother, but not enough to keep her after she was gone.

"I know I have been asking many questions I have no business asking, but... have you ever looked for them?"

"No. And as far as I know, they have not for me. And I didn't want to," Arciana answered honestly. Harold nodded, sensing that he'd reached his limit in this game of 20 questions.

"I'm very sorry to hear that you wish not to see them. But you know you're always welcome here," Harold stated, handing back the drawing of Philip and herself as children. Arciana placed them both back on her bedside table. "Which brings me to why I came. King Brady informed me that you will be staying with us for some time, and that I am to pick you out a new wardrobe."

"That one I didn't agree on," Arciana pointed out.

"He said you'd say such a thing. Now, Miss Arciana, there is no way you can stay here without letting me pick you out a whole new wardrobe! I am a complete and utter clothing maniac. Please, you must agree to let me pick our your clothes! You're enjoying that dress, are you not?" Harold asked. Arciana smiled as his begging tone, running a hand over the soft fabric. She'd removed the rose Brady gave her, setting it in a small bowl of water until she could dry it and press it in a book.

"I certainly am. You do have fine taste in clothing, Harold." Arciana answered.

"So is that a yes?" Harold asked hopefully.

"Well..." Arciana prolonged. She wondered if Harold were so desperate that he'd get on his knees and plead. Such a sight would have been hilarious.

"Miss Arciana! Don't play those games with me, young lady. I understand women better then you know," Harold stated. Arciana shook her head, laughing slightly.

"Alright, alright. I suppose I'll go along with it," Arciana said. Harold was about to literally jump for joy, which his usual squeal of excitement, when Arciana continued. "But..."

"Uh oh. There's always a 'but' with your kind..." Harold murmured. Arciana smiled.

"It's not that bad. My only condition is that, you buy some fabric, of your choice if you wish, for me to make my own dress. Just 1. You can pick out any other things you wish. But I want to make one dress myself," Arciana said.

"Deal," Harold stated, thrusting out his hand for her to shake, sealing the agreement. Arciana laughed at his childish face, grasping his hand and shaking it. "Oh, but I forgot! I have things to attend to this afternoon while King Brady is in Arcadia. I won't have time to go to the market place."

"I'll go!" Arciana said, a little more enthusiastically then she would have liked. Anything to escape her boredom.

"Oh, wonderful! Do you think you could pick up a few other things for me as well? I made a list, I just haven't had the time to go shopping." Harold said, retrieving a small piece of papyrus from his pocket. "All you need do is tell the shop owners that Harold sent you, and they'll charge the amount to my account," Arciana nodded, taking the piece of papyrus. "If you should need someone to help you bring the things back here, just ask. Believe me, they'll be more then happy to oblige," Harold stated. "Are sure it's no trouble? I can go, after I get Lord Jack off my back about his stupid lame-brained ideas long enough to attend to every other little thing that needs done around here."

"Believe me, it's no trouble. I'm dying of boredom here alone, drawing in my room," Arciana stated with a grin, which made Harold's smile broaden.

"Alright then. Dinner is usually served at sundown, but of course the kitchen is open to you at any time you wish." Harold stated.

"Thank you, Harold. I won't be long. Good luck with Lord Jack," Arciana said. She had not met him, but had heard enough to know that he could be quite annoying and persistent. She stood from her bed, checking her hair in the mirror before turning towards the door.

"Oh, and Arciana?" Harold called, stopping her just as she reached the door. She turned to face him, waiting for what he had left to say. "Just out of curiosity, what was the name of that song?"

"He Doesn't See Me," Arciana answered quietly, before opening the door and leaving her room, leaving Harold with a knowing frown on his face...

Philip nervously approached the large, sparsely decorated wooden door which separated him from his elderly mother's room. It had been well over a month since he had visited his mother. He usually just left the many servants to attend to her, and only visited when he needed her advice. She might be far too old to know where she was. And it was true, she was usually either asleep or babbling nonsense. But despite the lose of a daughter she never appreciated until she was gone, good ole Crazy Queen Katherine was still, and would always be with her dying breathe, the best queen Mucche would ever have. Which, to anyone that ever had to stand through even 5 minutes of Kate's endless drabble about nothing, would explain just why Mucche could never win the ageless war with Nero. Yet still, it was all too well known, at least among those closest to him, that King Philip depended upon Kate's advice, least his kingdom fall to pieces.

It was, however, a wonder he could completely understand his mother's meaning. Ever hear the term "great minds think alike"? Rumor in Mucche speculates that the same must go for insanity. As a general rule, Philip now hated visiting his mother. It was not that he didn't love her. That was never the problem; loving his insane mother was about all Philip had the mental capacity for. Truth be told, to Queen Kate, it was like her son was not even there. If she was awake, she would acknowledge him kindly at first. But then, it did not take more then 1 minute for her to be asking Philip if Chloe was with him, or if she would be coming by later. Before young Chloe Kiriakis had disappeared, her mother could not be bothered to pay much attention to a mere girl. Her pride was always in her son. Though they were betrothed to rule the throne solely together, whether they choose to marry another down the line or not, Kate had never seen little Princess Chloe as the Queen type.

It took her daughter's disappearance to make Queen Katherine realize her affections had been misplaced. Her son had returned to her- spinning wild tales of events that could not possibly have happened within the Black Castle- to grow into a young man who was just incapable of holding his own. But her daughter, an innocent little girl who'd countless times shown signs, which were as countlessly ignored, that she was the stronger twin, had been taken away, into the harsh, cruel life of slavery. Unknown to any but those closest to the Kiriakis family, for the first time in her life, Queen Katherine Kiriakis grew a heart. She quite literally pleaded for her daughter's life, but Katherine's pleas fell upon deaf ears. John Black no longer had it in him to care for anyone, except his dear children.
Victor had been so embarrassed to see his once strong wife crumble so at the lose of a mere girl child, he'd nearly divorced her. But divorce, especially within a royal family, was frowned upon in Mucche. So for the sake of keeping both a well liked King and Queen on the throne, Victor kept Katherine beside him. But after Chloe's capture, Kate usually kept herself locked away, in the very room which Philip had moved her in upon Victor's death. Such solitary confinement had inevitably driven Kate insane. Perhaps she always was. The lose of her daughter had left her unable to hide it with her crafty, manipulative mind. Either way, Katherine had long since outlived her husband, and though old, weak, and practically blind, had many times kept her son from losing the age old battle with Nero. Maybe even after her death, which most foretold could not be too far away, she would live on through Philip. It was doubtful her manipulative, crafty ways would rub off on the ignorant boy, not truly old enough, neither physically or mentally, to be King. God knew she'd have to for Mucche to keep from totally crumbling to ruins. General Michael Horton sure as hell couldn't keep Philip's kingdom together all by himself. He could win battles with ease, but Mike was in no way capable of convincing Philip to do anything the stubborn King wished not to do.
Now, when Philip came to visit, he would deal with his mother's constant questioning. Old age had left Queen Katherine completely incapable of remembering that her daughter was kidnaped so many years ago, and would not be returning to her. Or perhaps it was not old age, but merely a memory the Queen did not wish to remember if only to keep what little sanity she had left. Whichever the case, Philip never could convince her that Chloe was not with him, and was never going to come see her. He usually had to give up, and feed her fancy, telling his elderly mother that Chloe was out breaking all rules of royal hierarchy, absorbing tips and battle tactics, or any other knowledge of war she could from Mike. Queen Kate seemed to like the idea of her daughter taking command, and never listening to what others told her she should do. That was, after all, the way Kate had treated her daughter, just as Victor had. Little Princess Chloe was little more then a female, put only on the earth to be pleasing to the eye, and bear male heirs to the Kiriakis throne. Katherine hadn't allowed herself to be looked upon that way, so it always made the old woman's day to hear Philip's make up tales that her precious daughter was following in her footsteps. Philip always become so frustrated when he visited his mother, even though he was grateful for her guidance. Chloe was gone! Dead more then likely, knowing the slave traders. She wasn't going to be coming back. So why should he have to live in the shadow of a girl who'd disappeared over 13 years ago? Even Philip knew that answer deep down, really. It's what saddened him the most. Even a missing child Princess was more of an asset to Mucche then he was. Philip sighed deeply, shaking off all doubt. No wonder he made such a lousy King. He was no braver today then he was 13 years ago, hiding in fear behind his twin sister. Without bothering to knock, Philip creaked the door open, peeking his head inside.
"Mother? Are you awake?" Philip asked into the dark room. His mother rarely bothered to ask the servants to light candles. It was light outside, but since Chloe's disappearance, the room had been completely cloaked in black, as if someone had died and the family was left in mourning all this time. The servants had long since learned never to light the candles if Queen Katherine had not ordered it so, as she was known to throw the lit candles at the poor servants in disgust. "Mother?"
"Chloe?" came the soft, hoarse reply. Philip sighed, shaking his head as he entered the room. Kate must have been awake thinking of Chloe again. She usually at least waited for him to come instead before calling for his long lost sister. Philip walked over to the window, drawing back the black curtains which blocked the sun from entering the room.
"No, mother. It's Philip," Philip replied, in much the same bored, almost hurt tone he'd used for years when addressing his mother. Philip saw Kate wince at the sudden light; she never set foot outside the castle. Hell, these days, she didn't technically set foot on even her bedroom floor.
"Oh, Philip! How nice it is to see you dear," Kate said, shielding her eyes from the light. "Son, be a good dear and close that blind for me will you? My old eyes can't take the bright mid-day sun anymore." Philip rolled his eyes, reaching for a candle. She was on one of her sugary sweet "I'm just an old, sweet, dying lady" kicks. Sometimes she was rather irritable, still talking as if she were a Queen demanding service from her subjects. Sometimes, she would go from sweet and kind to sharp and shrill in a mere instant. It was all a matter of what state of mind you happened to catch her in.
"May I at least light a candle Mother? It is so very hard to see in this room with the blinds drawn closed," Philip stated, mocking her own polite tone.
"That will be fine, Philip," Kate replied. Taking up a little ingenious item his inventors had rigged up, the only ingenious thing those clowns had accomplished, which was basically a sort of hand-held flint stone that one could strike with just one hand, Philip lit the candle, closing the blinds and placing the it on the bedside table. Before Philip could even bring up a chair to sit beside her bed, Kate was sitting up, asking the inevitable question. "Philip, when is your sister Chloe coming to see me? It has been so long. I've been waiting for her so patiently, is she coming to me today?" It was days like this Philip hated lying most. Although he knew better then to think so, when his mother was like this, she seemed so lost and helpless. It was the smile upon his mother's lips at the hope her precious daughter would visit her that hurt most.
"No, mother, Chloe will not be coming today," Philip answered quietly. Kate's smile immediately melted, replaced with a forlorn frown. Such a change his mother had undergone in merely 13 years. It was true, she was old, but she looked 10 times older then she should be now. Grief had not been kind to her. Her once beautiful, flawless face was now tainted by wrinkles which came well before their time. Kate turned her head away from her son, as if to keep him from seeing her pain.
"Why does she never visit, Philip? Am I not good enough for my own daughter anymore? It has been so long..."
"Mother, do not think anything of the sort. Of course you are good enough for Chloe." Sometimes... he believed Chloe was not good enough for their mother's love. It was a thought he cursed himself for afterwards. He loved his dear twin sister, and missed her as much as their mother did. Just not quite so... severely. "Mother, I've come to ask for your assistance, in an urgent matter." Kate nodded, as if she'd known that was the case. Queen Katherine often knew things she shouldn't. It was the one of the only gifts which had not been taken from her in her grief.
"Yes, I know. But first, answer me this? Why does Chloe not come? The truth, my son. She never liked Michael as a child. She'd never spend so much time with him..." Kate muttered. Philip sighed, taking his mother's old, wrinkled yet still elegant hand in his much larger hands.
"Mother, you know the truth. You've always known. You just refuse to acknowledge it," Philip replied. "Chloe is gone, Mother. She has been gone for over 13 years, and she is not going to be coming back."
"No. No you don't know what you're talking about, fool boy!" Kate swore, pushing her son's hand away. As was often the case, any time he tried to reason with his mother about Chloe, Kate would yell at him, pushing him away and denying a truth she'd been avoiding for 13 years. Philip shook his head, unable to allow his mother to push him away this time.
"Mother, please, don't do this again. I need your help now Mother. Deep down, you have always known that Chloe is gone. You must accept that now, and help me get revenge on the people that took Chloe from you. Mother please, will you help me? Help me avenge Chloe?" Philip pleaded. But this time, Kate would be giving no advice. Her head shot up, towards the window... but it was not the window she was looking at. She was just... looking straight ahead, at something Philip could neither see nor understand.
"Chloe?" Kate whispered.
"Mother, I told you, Chloe's not..."
"He has my baby! That monster has my baby!" Kate screamed, cutting Philip off. Philip jumped back slightly in shock as his mother lashed out at him. Not at him, really, but at the unseen force. Kate flailed her arms, as if she were being attacked by someone and was fending herself off. "No! Get your hands off my baby! Get away from her!" Kate was completely out of control, kicking and screaming like a young child having a temper tantrum. Philip, not knowing what else to do, grasped his mother by the shoulders, trying to calm her down. Never in his life had she done something like this. It was as if she had finally gone completely mad.
"Mother, stop it! Stop this at once! She's gone Mother! Chloe's not coming back!" Philip yelled, trying in vain to contain his mothers desperate attempts to fight off the evil only she could see. With strength Philip never knew was left in Queen Katherine's weak body, she turned her attention onto him, not seeing her son in him anymore. Pushing with all her might, Kate fought against her son's strong grasp, shoving his face and trying to kick him though her legs were still, at least partially so, under her thick covers.
"No! Get away from me! Stay away from my daughter, you monster! Let go!" Kate screamed, thrashing wildly with each screeched command.
"Mother, STOP! You're going to kill yourself if you don't stop this! Nadine! Charles! Someone, help! Queen Katherine needs you!" Philip screamed for two of Kate's keepers whom he knew were near by that he'd passed them in the hallway, telling them to stay close but out of the room until he left. Kate did not hear his pleas for her to cease, least she hurt herself. She did not see her young, now only child in front of her any more. All she saw was that he was keeping her from her daughter. Her daughter, who was calling out for her. No one but Kate could hear her poor Chloe's cries. She had to stop him... she had to stop that monster from taking her daughter away! With strength that only a mother can summon when protecting it's young, Kate shoved Philip hard in the chest, knocking not only the wind out of him, but knocking him and his chair to the floor. Too stunned to react, Philip did not see his mother literally lunge up off her bed, after so long without so much as setting foot on the floor, and take up the chair. Raising it as high above her head as her arms could manage, Kate crashed the chair down upon her son.
"Stay away from her! You stay away from my little girl, you monster! You can't take her from me!" Kate screamed, bringing the chair, now missing one leg, back up again. Philip tried to scramble away, but only managed to back himself up against the wall, giving Kate the opportunity to bring the chair crashing down upon his form again.
"Stop it! Stop it Mother!" Philip screamed in vain. His mother could not hear him. This was the kind of thing he always had feared his father would do to him, but NEVER his beloved mother. Kate brought the battered chair up again, determined to defeat her "daughter's capture."
"You'll never have her! She'll never be yours! NEVER! Do you hear me! She'll never be yours!"
"Mother! Mother stop it, please!" Philip yelled, bringing his arms up to block another blow from the hateful chair.
"Mistress Katherine! Stop that at once!" It was Charles, who had, along with Nadine, ran to the doorway upon first hearing Philip yell for them. Charles advanced, thinking he could easily over-power the frail woman-- he was after all more then twice her size. But he thought wrong. Kate slammed the cursed chair into his chest, knocking him away.
"Stay way from her! Stay away from my little girl!" Kate screamed. The split second Kate had turned her attention away from Philip to take on Charles gave Philip enough time to pull himself together. When Kate turned to bring the chair down upon him again, he grabbed the remaining front leg. Without thinking, Philip pushed against his mother with all his might, sending the old woman backwards. Kate tumbled, hitting the back of her head hard on the side of the bed before crashing down on the floor on her back. Charles had recovered, but had been unable to catch the Queen before she fell. Philip stared in shock at his mother, once so quite and weak, now lying bleeding on the floor after attacking him.
"No. Oh God, please no..." Philip whispered, throwing the chair aside in his hurry to reach his mother's side. Philip fell to his knees beside his fallen mother, gently cradling her head in his lap, as a small child might have done with a broken toy or wounded pet. "Mother, please. I'm so sorry. Please, please don't leave me." Kate moaned, already beginning to slip into an unconsciousness she already knew she would never awaken from.
"My baby... don't take my baby... please, please bring her to me...please bring... her..." With those final words, the once strong Queen Katherine of Mucche's old, wise eyes fluttered closed for a final time. Her chest rose one last time for a meek ragged breath, then she was gone.
"No! Mother, no! Please don't leave me!" Philip cried. That child within him, which had never left him since the tragic lose of his twin sister, would die with his mother. He had no one now. And he had only one man which he could blame. Forcing back tears he knew were too childish for a grown man such as he to be shedding, Philip leaned down, kissing his mother's forehead in respect. "I will avenge her, Mother. I swear it," Philip vowed, before he laid her head down on the floor, unaware of the large pool of his mother's blood which had began to form around the bedside. Unaware of that same blood, now covering his royal garments. Standing up, he motioned for Charles and Nadine to take care of his mother, never saying a word. His face, once boyish, showing the signs of his immaturity, was twisted in pure angst. Pure angst at the one living man whom he could blame for his lose. Pure angst, focused solely on Brady Black. Philip would not mourn his mother's death. He had not truly mourned his father, and he would not mourn for his mother. Philip's only care now, was avenging the lose of his sister, and bringing honor back to his family name.

His sister, no matter where she was, would have peace once the Black family finally paid for their crimes against the Kiriakis family. If Philip could not get Chloe back, then he would honor her memory with the utmost revenge; he would rid the world of the last remaining Black. If only Philip knew... if only he knew what his mother had known, what his mother had tried to tell him. She had not been reaching out to just Chloe. She had wanted to reach out to Chloe, through Philip. If only Philip had seen what his mother had seen. Then he would have caught sight of a beautiful, raven haired young woman with the finest skin and most elegant grace, walking through a crowded Neroean marketplace, a tall blond haired young man with the most regal stance walking beside her. If only Katherine had been able to make Philip see, then maybe, just maybe... Katherine could have finally reached her long lost daughter. She could have finally unmasked her baby, and brought her home as who she really was; Chloe Kiriakis...

Arciana replaced the melon in her hand back onto the fruit stand, picking up what had to be her 20th try. Harold had mentioned before she left the palace that he was very picky with his food, especially when it came to fruit. It had taken her damn near 2 hours just to get barely half the things on Harold's list! But of course, she didn't mind. Shopping for Harold would give her something to do. And, once she got all of Harold's chores done, she could buy some fabric and start sewing a new dress. Moving her half full basket up her wrist to free her other hand, Arciana grabbed another melon, to compare the two.
"Nice melons," came a masculine voice from behind. Arciana was caught off guard by the stranger, so off guard in fact she dropped both of the green melons. Whoever it was that had spoken was very quick. He caught both of them, quickly placing them back on the cart. "Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you."

"Brandon!" Arciana breathed in surprise. "Brandon, what are you doing here?"

"What, no 'hello, so glad to see you again'? Geez Arci, these last few years have made you a hell of a lot more rude," Brandon joked. Arciana smiled despite herself, laying down her basket to give her old friend a hug.

"You haven't changed a bit, Brandon," Arciana murmured in reply. Brandon laughed slightly, hugging Arciana back tightly.

"I can say the same for you, Arciana... aside from the clothes that is," Brandon replied, pulling back to admire Arciana's new dress, picked out especially by Harold. He couldn't help but notice also the rare rose, once again pinned to Arciana's dress, and wonder just who had captured his old friend's broken heart. "You're looking good."
"Yeah... well, it's amazing what clothing that isn't tattered and torn will do for a girl's figure," Arciana stated, only half joking. She did like looking in the mirror now, after all. Before, while with Paul... facing a mirror was more harsh then any beating. Unseen by either Brandon or Arciana, Cynthia had spotted them, and was lurking around the other side of the large fruit cart, keeping herself out of sight but still very much within ear shot. Cynthia had been taking to a rebel associate when she'd spotted Arciana with some muscular hunk. And of course, Cynthia couldn't pass up the opportunity to dig up a little dirt on Brady's new whore.

"No, I'm serious here. You do look amazing, Arciana," Brandon stated, causing her to somewhat blush. She'd long since become use to Brandon's affectionate manner. She'd rather be around someone affectionate the way Brandon was, then someone with Paul's sense of affection. "You look... almost royal even. Where does a former slave get such fine clothes? And this rose..." Brandon asked, pointing to the rare purple rose Arciana had retrieved from the bowl of water to wear again so that she could at least feel as though Brady was accompanying her to the Market Place. "You must have captured the heart of a very romantic rich guy. Not that that surprises me, given the fact that we are talking about the ever beautiful Arciana here." Cynthia leaned in a bit closer at the "former slave" part. So the new tramp Brady brought in was a Neroean slave?

"I haven't captured the heart of anyone Brandon," Arciana lied. "I did meet someone new, yes... but I'm not the kind of woman a guy falls in love with." Cynthia scoffed behind the orange crate. Get back to the slave part for Gods sake! I can't stand to listen to this bull for long. She thought to herself.

"Why do you always do that? You know you can't lie to me. I've known you since we were both kids. And don't give me any of that "No good guy can fall for me" stuff. Have you looked in a mirror lately? Your looks alone could attract every guy within a 100 mile radius." Brandon stated.

"Yeah, right. And pigs can fly," Arciana retorted, turning back to grab another melon without inspecting it to see if it met Harold's specifications.

"Yes, I am right." Brandon stated. "Look... I know it's none of my business. You're a free woman now, and if you want nothing more to do with me or my family because of what my father has done to you... then I understand. But you can't blame my curiosity. I never thought you'd come back to Nero after Paul died." Paul? As in Paul Mendez? Cynthia smiled evilly. Having heard all she needed, Cynthia quietly snuck away. She now had an old friend who she needed to talk to in the Neroean Jail...

"I didn't exactly come here by choice," Arciana murmured, ignoring Brandon and grabbing an apple that looked perfectly ripe.

"What's that suppose to mean?" Brandon asked curiously. Arciana sighed in frustration, turning back to face Brandon.

"I was living in Rubino, Brandon. I'm one of the captives that got taken from the marketplace in Rubino yesterday," Arciana answered. It took a moment for the knowledge to sink in, but finally he connected the dots, remembering the public announcement made that morning.

"Wait a minute. It was you King Brady was talking about this morning at the announcement?" Brandon asked.

"So you went to that..."

"Of course I did. My sister was one of those to get arrested after all. Besides, everyone in town went... but that doesn't answer my question."

"Alright already. Yes, Brandon, I am the woman Brady was talking about this morning. I'm the slave he bought at the auction last night. There, got enough info out of me now? Because you know I hate it when you play 20 questions," Arciana snapped.

"You're clothes aren't all that's changed... never remembered you having an attitude," Brandon stated, although not seriously. "So, have you fallen in love with him yet?" Arciana's hand paused in mid air, as she had been reaching for another apple.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, he is the King of Nero after all. And from a woman's perspective, he's got to be the most handsome eligible bachelor in all of Salem. Excluding yours truly of course." Arciana shook her head, turning back to the fruit.

"Brandon, it makes no difference if I did have feelings for him, which I don't." Arciana denied, picking up the last item she needed from the fruit cart and telling the cart tender to charge them to Harold. "Brady is a King, while I'm nothing more then a mere ex-slave. I won't even be staying here that long. I'll be leaving soon, so more likely then not, Brady and I will never see each other again. Now if you'll excuse me, I still have a lot more shopping to do," Arciana said, turning away from her old friend. She had thought a meeting with him would be more pleasant, more comfortable... but she had forgotten how easily Brandon could pry into ones personal life. He meant well with all his worrying and questioning, but it just wasn't what Arciana needed right now. Arciana had only gotten a few feet away before Brandon spoke again.

"He won't turn you away because of who your family is you know," Brandon called out to her, stopping her in her tracks. Arciana turned around to face him, standing in the middle of the crowded lane with a dumbfounded "what the hell?" look on her face. "Oh come on, do you really think I knew you all those years without knowing where you really came from? Father did always have a tendency to talk too much when he got drunk. I knew from the beginning who you really were."

"You...you knew? And you never said anything?"

"Of course I never said anything. If you wanted me to know... then you would have told me. So I just let it go. I didn't care where you came from, or who your family was. And I honestly believe that anyone who has the honor of getting to know you will automatically feel the same," Brandon said honestly. Again pushing her basket up her wrist to free her hands, Arciana walked forward, taking both of Brandon's hands into hers.
"Look, Brandon... please, promise me you will never tell anyone what you know about me."
"But..."

"Shhh. No buts Brandon. Regardless of what you may feel about me... others may not feel the same way. This is Nero, a place where my kind has never and will never be welcomed. They would especially not welcome me if they were to find out that I am not just from the land of their enemies, but I am from the very family that is responsible for this war. I don't want that Brandon. I don't want all these people to hate me based upon who my family is. So, you can not let anyone find out who I am. Please Brandon, promise me you won't tell anyone. It's hard enough knowing you and your mother and sister know. Please don't tell anyone else," Arciana pleaded. Brandon sighed, reluctantly nodding his head.

"Alright, I promise. I won't tell anyone." Arciana smiled, before the inevitable "but..." was spoken. "But... you know if you do stay much longer, the truth will surface, whether your ready for it too or not." Arciana lowered her head, knowing he was right. All the more reason she should have left this morning.
"I know. That is why I must leave soon. But that's something I'll have to deal with. Just keep your promise, and never tell a soul who I really am, ok?"

"I said I would, and I always keep my promises."

"Thank you, Brandon. I really appreciate you not telling anyone. And honestly... I'm really touched you don't hate me, even though you know... who I am," Arciana said honestly. Brandon smiled, squeezing her hands in reassurance.

"Hey, you know me. I never judge people like that. You know you can always turn to me, for anything. We got a new place, at the base of a hillside on the outer rim of town, so it wouldn't bring back any... you know, unwanted memories to come visit. Mom would love to see you again. She always did like you. Sometimes, I think she liked you more then Nicole," Brandon stated jokingly, causing Arciana to smile as well.

"I'll think about it. It wouldn't be so bad coming by now that Nicole is in jail. Oh, not that I'm glad she's been arrested, I just meant..."

"Don't worry about it. I know you didn't mean it in a bad way. I don't want Nicole in jail, but neither mother nor I agreed with what she was doing with our other relatives. Maybe some time in jail will learn her a lesson. And you do more then think about coming by, alright? 'Cause if I tell mom your back, and you don't come by, she'll blame me. Probably stop talking to me for weeks," Brandon joked.

"Oh, well we wouldn't want that now would we? Alright then, if that's going to be the case... then I'll be sure to pay Faye a visit before I leave town."

"That a promise?"

"That's a promise," Arciana replied, releasing Brandon's hands. She was still a bit uneasy, knowing Brandon knew who she was. But she knew she could trust him. He was perhaps the only person she had ever really trusted as a child, aside from of course his mother. Arciana stepped forward, giving Brandon another hug. "It really is good seeing you again, Brandon. You and your mother are the only things about this place I missed."

"Likewise. I hope it won't be years before we see each other this time around."

"I promise, it won't." Arciana promised, stepping back again. "Ok, now I really do have to get going. I've been here over 2 hours and still have only gotten half the things on Harold's list."

"Harold? Don't tell me you have 2 men after your heart," Arciana laughed at this, shaking her head.

"Nope, can't say that I do. But I'm sure Harold would be very interested in you," Arciana replied. Brandon gave a strange look, not catching her meaning at first.

"Oh," Brandon said, her meaning finally dawning on him. "Oh. I see... well, remind me not to visit you at the palace then," Brandon said, only half joking. Arciana shook her head, laughing.

"Goodbye, Brandon." Arciana called, turning once again to walk down the pathway to the vegetable stand near by.

"Goodbye, Chloe..."

Brady breathed in the fresh, crisp afternoon Arcadian air. The scent, roses with just a hint of fresh apples, no doubt coming from Arcadia's own orchard, reminded him of Arciana. Of course, with the exception of the mornings meeting, everything had reminded him of Arciana since he left her side back in Nero. After lunch, Brady, Shawn, and Jason had each decided to go their separate ways and explore Arcadia. Only Jason had really spent much time there, so Shawn and Brady had wished to see the sights, while Jason spent some "quality time" with Princess Miriam. Shawn had headed for the docks. Just as his father before him, Shawn felt drawn to the water, and loved going out in a boat any time he was given the opportunity. Brady had decided to wander through the marketplace. He could do so with a little more freedom here in Arcadia, since the King of Nero would not be as recognizable.

Of course he hadn't planned on it, but upon arrival in the vast marketplace, Brady quickly started wandering "would Arciana like this?" about everything he came across. Brady didn't feel as if he had to get Arciana a gift or anything... but he did wish to surprise her with something that might be more meaningful to her then any kind of flashy, expensive gift. He'd wandered around all the jewelry shops, quickly dismissing them. Buying a woman expensive jewelry to impress them or get their "affections" in return was a trick he would leave to womanizers like King Philip. Arciana was the kind of woman who deserved a present from the heart, like the rose he'd given her earlier. It was a beautiful gift, but not one which demanded something in return. And the glass butterfly had been a gift from the heart, not a meaningless trinket. Why Brady felt so drawn to Arciana, and why he wished only to give her all the happiness he believed she deserved, even through the smallest actions, he did not know. That was what scared him the most about his feelings for Arciana; they came from no where.

After his precious sister Isabella was murdered, Brady locked himself away completely, unwilling to allow anyone close to him, least they abandon him as well. But within but an instant, Arciana, a young woman he really knew nothing about, had changed all of that. It scared him to think that he could fall so easily in love with a stranger, a stranger who could easily, and willingly, leave him. But this time... Brady would not run from it. After all, he had nothing left to lose, right? So, he would embrace these feelings he was having, pushing aside all fears. Brady truly wished to fill all the empty holes inside Arciana's heart, left by what had to have been a very unfulfilling childhood. Everything he did seemed to be for her. He wanted to be the thing she needed most in life; someone to treat her like a real person, and love and care for her for who she was. Brady only wished he knew more about her. Truthfully, he wanted to know everything about her. But he could be patient; he only prayed she did not leave before he got the chance to show her who much he cared.

Brady had wondered around the market for a half hour, passing over gifts like paints, quills, all types of drawing and writing utensils, as well as many musical items, such as sheet music. For some reason, those things felt as if they somewhat important to Arciana. But... he did not feel like paints, or music, were something she truly desired. After half an hour, he'd almost given up, decided that he was never meant to show Arciana what he felt, but simply tell her. Until he past a small toy shop he had not noticed before. There, sitting in a small wooden box tilted upwards to display its contents, was a purple, fuzzy teddy bear with a pink bow around it's neck and a small, pink rose embroidered on it's chest, over where ones heart would normally be. Teddy bears were not so popular in Nero. Most little girls preferred rag dolls or wooden animals. The few that were sold in Neroean shops were very plain, usually brown with rather course fur. Upon picking up the purple teddy, Brady found it's fur to be fuzzy and soft, the perfect present for any child. Brady smiled to himself when he saw it; he knew he'd found the perfect present for Arciana.

"I'll take it," Brady had said, paying the cart tender for the bear, and for the wooden box with it's matching lid to carry it with him back to Nero. Now, sitting on some crates on the edge of the dock, Brady had the bear out of it's box, twirling it in his hands. He didn't have to be told to know that Arciana had never been given a real childhood. Unfortunately, that loss was not something he could restore. But he could try to help fill that hole in her heart, even if it were just a simple childish gift. No matter how childish it was, Brady felt his gift could symbolize somewhat of a new beginning for Arciana. Hopefully, a new beginning... with him. But that, he would wait for; he would wait for her.

"Thinking about her again?" Shawn had come up beside Brady without being noticed, since Brady's mind was on Arciana, and how much he hoped his gift brought her joy.

"Shawn! I didn't see you there," Brady said, quickly putting the teddy bear away into it's wooden box. Of course, Shawn had already seen it. The sight brought both happiness, and sadness to him. Although he was worried whether Arciana would be what Brady needed, he was happy to see his friend finally open up his heart to someone again. But, such a thing, was also quite sad for him to see. A simple gift such as a teddy bear, or some other type of child's toy, would have been something Shawn would have given to his beloved Isabella as a surprise.

"I can only imagine why," Shawn said sarcastically, seating himself on a crate besides Brady.

"I thought we were suppose to meet at the palace in another half hour."

"We were, but Jason thought it would be best if we all head out now. He said we've spent far too much leisure time eating and "gawking about like simpleton tourists." Those are his words, not mine by the way," Shawn stated. Brady laughed, nodding his head.

"Sounds like a Jason comment to me, for sure. So, we're all ready to set out then?" Brady asked. Shawn nodded.

"Yes. Jason has already departed for Supervisore, and two separate carriages are waiting to take us back home to prepare for the attack," Shawn replied.

"Alright then, lets be off shall we?" Brady said, taking the wooden box up in his hands and preparing to stand. But Shawn reached out a hand, grabbing a hold of Brady before he could get up.

"Hey Brade?" Shawn started, using an old nickname no one had used since long before John died and Brady become King of Nero. "Don't let her hurt you, ok? I know what you feel for her, and you know we all hope and pray it works out for you two, but... just don't let her hurt you, alright? I can't stand to see you hurt again," Shawn said honestly. Brady knew that Shawn spoke from his own pain as well right now. Belle had been a great lose for the both of them. Brady merely nodded, not needing to say anything else. "Alright, well, why don't we get going now? The sooner we get back home, the better."

"Yeah, the sooner the better..." Brady returned, now greatly distracted as he and Shawn stood and began the trek back to the palace towards their awaiting transportation. What if Shawn were right? What if he should be more on guard with Arciana. Perhaps he did have something left to lose after all...