To Superdani4Ever:

I'm so sorry to keep you waiting. This was a hard chapter!

And thank you so much! Happy Birthday- late as it is- I'm sorry!

I thought about Cyrus and drunk as he is, I think he's laying a little too idle. After all, he's the one who suggested Veruca marry him again. No, we don't see Liam and Len hanging out with other royals at parties and stuff. Sure, there's Ashok and Gemma who are heirs to wealthy fortunes and Beck who's an aristocrat, and ordinary people like Ophelia and Willow but no. Penelope and Maribel… Alas, who knows? They'll have to smarten up, though. Sadly, it's going to take some time!

I don't think he would have known until somewhat late in their relationship- because she might have forgotten about it- sort of- and yes, he was really relieved. I can't imagine what they would think watching these movies- no doubt they'll be really embarrassed- but thankful there were no intimate moments!

Yes, that's one of the reasons Anastasia is scared stiff to let Aglaia out of her sight and I think she's happy that Len sees another life instead of being trapped in a palace full of endless protocol and pretences.

Oh, Veruca will still try and fight like the devil. And now that she has a new ally, who'll have a few tricks up her sleeve.

As for that scene- please, don't expect me to write a real lemon. I don't think I have the stomach for it to be honest. But yes, I can imagine, as Robert's definitely not keen on sharing her with anybody else- that he was over the moon.

Please bear with me on this one. This chapter is a bit slow, but it's definitely got some drama promised for later on. And something else... MORE SINISTER! :o

Now it is the time of night That the graves, all gaping wide...

Marriage. It was something she'd never thought her brother would consider of the utmost importance.

But obviously Alexios had found someone he loved. And wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

The boys were quiet that morning. Selena as cooing and waving her tiny hands about, her big smile spread across her baby face with its soft rosy cheeks.

She cooed and wiggled her little rag doll around. Aglaia finished feeding, burping and changing the boys. She had made sure the boys ate their small servings of sweet potato and carrot purée (which they liked) and formula milk. It was Selena's turn to be fed.

"So how do you know when babies are ready to start eating solids?" Len asked curiously.

"When they're able to hold their heads upright, sit without support and they start to try to stuff their toys and anything into their mouths. Also when they begin to be interested in what you're eating. Then you should consult your doctor." She scooped up some mashed sweet potato and a little carrot purée on top and began teasingly waving it around, like a little fighter jet going this way and that, until Selena's eyes went massive and her mouth dropped in awe and amazement. That was when her mother placed the spoon right in.

Selena blinked and recognising and liking the taste, she moved it around in her mouth a little, before swallowing. She gave a barely-toothed grin at her mother and aunt that made them go aww. Selena started waving her hands up and down like, 'Again, again, again!' liking this game that was fun and ended up with something tasty in her mouth.

"It's usually somewhere between four and six months that they start eating." Aglaia ate some of her cereal and scooped up another spoonful for the baby. Selena gurgled, cooed and giggled, waving her hands excitedly.

"They still need formula, of course. And we feed them puréed meats, iron-fortified cereal and vegetable and potato purées like these." Aglaia ate her own cereal.

"My brother's getting married," Aglaia said, putting down her spoon, sighing at the thought. "He's invited us- Robert and me, and the babies." She frowned. "I don't know if they're ready but it's their uncle's wedding they want to be there. Of course, if they start… Well… There are numerous heads of state." She winced.

"Don't worry, they'll be fine." Len took a turn spooning some food in the baby's mouth. She cooed and giggled at her aunt, waving and beaming.

"What about you?" She asked. "You do realise I'm leaving you here with Cyrus unless you want to come."

"Nah, that's okay," Len said. "I think there are things I want to do?"

"Jasper, or your designs?"

"Both." Len agreed. Aglaia gave a knowing smile.

"And of course, he's going to be on the lookout," Aglaia turned, smiling as said bodyguard walked into the room. "Oh, Jasper. Would you like some-" she gestured to the food. "No thank you- your majesty." Jasper excused.

"Aglaia." Aglaia smiled. "We're in private, you can call me that plus, you're going to be staying with Len while we're away at my brother's wedding in Greece. He wanted to do it at Sparta, you know but they wouldn't have it." She laughed softly. "Always the Spartan my brother. And now they're having it in Athens. Willow's coming too."

"Willow?" Len sounded confused. Aglaia nodded. "My brother Dimitri invited her." She looked amused. "I think he really, really likes her. He's been with a lot of girls, but this time." She looked bewildered. "I think it's getting serious." She fed Selena another spoonful.

The boys were playing quietly in the playpen Aglaia had set up so she could eat with them nearby and keep an eye on them until their nannies arrived.

"They're quiet today," Aglaia murmured. "I wonder how they'll be when the wedding comes." She grimaced. "How in the world am I supposed to wear a nice dress and sit or stand during a long ceremony while holding three babies?" She asked, nearly groaning. "I'll need help. That they didn't disagree on."

Jasper silently but gratefully thanked God and his lucky stars that the nannies were going to be leaving with the royal couple.

"Right well, I'll get to it," She cheerfully waved to Baby Selena who smiled and cooed back at her. "Bye," she cooed. She waved at the boys.

Jasper followed her out. Robert arrived not long afterwards.

"What's gotten you so riled up?" Aglaia asked, as Selena laughed and glowed at her father's arrival.

Robert looked up with a smile. "Oh, not much. The presents have been sent to the Netherlands. The baby's name has yet to be announced."

"Mother and child are healthy?" Aglaia asked. "How's Penelope taking to her new motherhood role? And Adriaan?"

Robert grimaced. "Seriously?" He cringed. "Well, you never know," Aglaia defended them as Robert grabbed a coffee and toast and sat down.

"Do they love their child?" Robert sighed. "I think they do. But she doesn't have the slightest clue what to do with her baby."

Aglaia's beautiful face darkened. "And Veruca?" She asked in a deadly-silent voice. "Have you tracked her down yet?"

"The last I heard she was in South Africa. Apparently the Queen Mother of Swaziland was enraged at her arrival and kicked her out threatening todeport her. But then she disappeared."

Aglaia's eyes darkened further. "She can't have done this on her own. Someone who didn't think on her plan to get her daughters pregnant out of wedlock can't plan an escape from some of the best intelligence agencies in the world." She frowned. "The South Africans?"

"Are aiding us along with Interpol," Robert assured her. He scooped a spoonful to baby Selena's mouth.

The baby chuckled. Robert gave her a smile and kissed the top of her head. "What if there are more reasons to be concerned than we think?" She asked. "She was in Swaziland. Did she see Maribel?"

"No, apparently. The queen mother refused." Robert stated.

"I think we underestimated her." Aglaia's eyes flashed.

"I think we're still onto her," Robert said steadily.

"DADA!" Selena shouted to the world, arms spread out. They stared at her. She grinned cutely. "DADA!" She said looking at Robert who gaped at her in astonishment. It was the first time she ever said that.

Alexios was patient when he wanted and needed to be. Right at that moment he was fastening his tie, surveying himself in the mirror.

Alexios was taller than Dimitri and no less handsome.

But there was a hardness in his eyes that couldn't be denied. Unlike Dimitri, although he had had women, he had always limited himself, barely ever looking at one.

No one could be expected to understand his life, to even begin to comprehend his burdens, let alone share them. As a Crown Prince and the Prince of Sparta he was expected- and pressured- to marry and produce an heir. The royal line desperately needed heirs, needed assurances that their monarchy would continue.

But it wasn't fair. How could it be when he was expected to not only have a child but share his entire life with someone? Someone he might not give his whole heart and soul too? Someone who had little or no understanding of what royal life and duty really was like, or what it was like to be married not only to a future king but a soldier. A soldier who fought the most difficult battles, who faced the greatest dangers, who put himself always in the heart of every danger of every struggle, so that his comrades would not only be inspired, but not take the worst of it.

Alexios wasn't born to be a king. He was the son of a son of a younger brother of a king. The younger brother- his grandfather- was the second son of a king. No one could ever imagine that Alexios would take the title of Crown Prince and Prince of Sparta.

He remembered the holiday in Crete, where they all loved. The assassination attempts, his mother's screams, the violent shooting and the screams of the injured, dying and grieving. Alexios' bedroom had been at the top floor of the villa in Crete, sharing it with Dimitri who was three years younger and white-faced.

Alexios had grabbed a lamp- not an ideal weapon- and proceeded to drag Dimitri to the window. He'd shoved the window open and went out, pulling his little brother with him when the traitorous reserve army soldiers began setting fire to the villa while Alexios and Dimitri quickly and quietly ran across the roof and onto a nearby tree.

He could still smell the smoke of the burning villa. Hear the coarse yells and bellows of the soldiers, his mother's pleas and desperate screams. His father had snuck behind with two loyal bodyguards and killed the men and set his mother free. Alexios and Dimitri saw it all, just as they had witnessed the men murder a cook who had been there since they were babies, cooking their meals and sneaking them sweets and cut-offs of pastries behind their parents' backs with winks. They clubbed her with the butt of their rifles and shot her repeatedly until she was dead.

The family had escaped- taking a dingy little ferry back to the mainland where they had believed they would be safe. They were wrong but they had no idea what had happened and they didn't know where and who else on the island was a part of the plot. On the way there, on the Mediterranean, Aglaia had been born. Alexios had been handed his sister just seconds after the birth, and he was silent for a long time, watching the baby sleep. Just thinking how soft, sweet, innocent and vulnerable she was and just how much in danger. He had been so enraged at the thought of someone trying to harm a strand of her hair. After all the reason they burnt the villa down was to kill the boys. They wouldn't spare an innocent baby. He loved her so enormously and was determined to protect her from death. He remembered the first man he killed.

He was thirteen at that time. Separated from his mother and new-born sister, with no way of knowing if they were safe or even still alive.

His father had tried to keep him safe, prevent him from being a child-soldier, but he often snuck out and trained and even fought with the resistance fighters, holding it out until his grandfather came. His father had been furious, but there was nothing he could do.

Alexios ground his teeth as he looked at his reflection in the mirror.

Sometimes he barely saw a man.

But he relaxed his breathing.

"Hey," Someone's soft voice said quietly.

Alexios turned. It was his bride-to-be.

She smiled at him.

"Alexios," her smile faded. Alexios forced a smile. He went to kiss her. He loved her. He never imagined he would ever find someone like her, or could, but he did.

He loved her more than he could know. And of course he understood what Robert and his sister felt for each other.

The fear was dragging her into the mess that now spread from the Henstridges, by association.

The wedding was coming up soon. Aglaia bit her lip. She wasn't sure about whether she should promote British or honour her original homeland with fond memories and reminders that she was still one of them, even though she fully embraced Britain.

So she decided to go for her own designs.

She had drawn up her own sketches as well as buying British design (and the occasional Greek) and wearing Len's outfits. Clothing was not a mere thing to cover her up or a way of people to look admiringly at her. It carried meaning, messages. None of it was meaningless. Everyone will look at her clothing and interpret it. She was feeling this today. Or that. She had sympathies for this group's cause if she brought some stuff from a group of people that were fundraising for a group of refugees fleeing a civil war. Or a terrible earthquake. Or maybe the designer had certain sympathies for a socio-political movement. Aglaia couldn't risk making a single mistake.

She groaned.

So for her arrival in Greece, she was wearing something made by a member of the Greek community born in Britain. Hopefully that would make everybody happy.

The one she chose was a gorgeous double-breasted navy-blue coat with a rich, darker blue velvet panelling, almost black. It covered her shoulders and was seen at the front of the coat, with cut-outs so that the navy blue material beneath the velvet would always be more dominant. But there were pleats and tucks of folded and sewn velvet and a pleated bottom made of velvet. She liked it very much.

"That's number one," she decided.

To the pre-wedding prayers and church ceremonies, she would wear a burgundy wrap-around knee-length coat with three quarter sleeves, belted with darker maroon sash. She would wear burgundy or maroon gloves, she hadn't decided. Another dress was green, with a coat also with three-quarter sleeves and knee-length and stylish flared asymmetrical lapels.

The church ceremony and reception was undecided.

Aglaia nearly groaned out loud. But her mother-in-law came into the room.

"Hey," she greeted. She frowned. "Are you sure you don't want to come along?"

"I'm sure." Helena assured her. Definitely certain. No way was she walking into any of their territory. They loathed her guts.

"But Cyrus will still be here… Can you-" she hesitated.

"Keep an eye out for him?" Helena scoffed. "He's impotent. Not literally, although, yes actually, he is, partly now that's he's lost one testicle."

Aglaia winced. "Still," she looked uneasy.

"We'll be fine."

"Sure about that?" Robert came into the room. He looked dubious.

Helena scoffed. "Darling, I've been putting up with Cyrus ever since we lost your father." She said quietly.

That's what I'm afraid of, they both thought simultaneously.

Even Robert looked uneasy. Going to Greece… What would they find when they came back?

Best case scenario? The palace in flames or burnt to ashes on the ground. Or totally trashed because of the remnants of someone's drunken orgy. Worst case scenario? Monarchy destroyed, the throne taken by Cyrus, or the military in a coup.

With this family anything is possible, Robert admitted.

"It'll be fine," Helena said brightly, oblivious to the looks of unease, doubt, disbelief and maybe even fear on their faces. "Besides, Liam, Len and everyone else is staying."

Robert and Aglaia winced.

Just then Liam walked into the room.

"So you're not coming?" Aglaia had asked him.

"It's fine," Liam assured her. Like his mother, he knew the rest of Aglaia's family- and the cream of European royalty as it turned out- didn't like him, or any of them except Robert, Aglaia and the children who were seen as a symbol of hope for a new future. And Simon. He was definitely not on the invite, he thought. And they would only tolerate him because Aglaia had invited him along.

"Alright then." Aglaia sighed. "Willow's going to be there, you know," she put in, matter-of-factly.

Liam froze. "What?!" His mouth dropped open in astonishment.

"Dimitri invited her." She sighed. She looked amused. "Looks like my brother is getting real serious with a girl at last. Taking her to our brother's wedding, in front of the whole world…" Liam gaped.

No. No way!

"In any case," Aglaia said, curious but deciding not to investigate on it, there are things I would like to discuss with you before we take the babies and the nannies to Athens."

Eleanor was nervous. Heck, she was terrified.

The endless parade of jewelled costumes and glittering accessories, luscious fabrics and so forth did nothing to ease her.

Sitting opposite her on the other side of the catwalk, on the front row, was the heartbreakingly gorgeous and glamorous Thai princess.

She was smiling.

Len swallowed.

The Thai princess smiled sweetly as the fashion show went on. She seemed to mock Len, telling her that she would never get to where she was.

But Len was determined.

The wedding's pre-festivities were about to begin.

Aglaia stepped down onto Athens with a crazy cheer louder than any she had experienced- and that was saying something- from onlookers.

Smiling, Aglaia waved, carrying Baby Will in one arm, with Andrew- squirming as usual- in Nanny Pam's arms and Selena carried by Robert.

The cheers were deafening. This was the first time people had seen the babies in Greece.

Will blinked, but otherwise remained calm. Selena gurgled at the sight of the bright sun.

"Your Majesties, and your royal highnesses," someone she recognised very well from the King's Estate- a butler- bowed and smiled. "Welcome back."

Aglaia smiled wider. "Thank you, Nikko." She sighed. "Well, how are the babies?" She asked. "I think Will needs a change."

She was right, she was about to head off but Nanny Marge appeared out of nowhere and took Will. "The rest of them are fine, your majesty," Nanny Stacy assured her.

Aglaia breathed out.

Being in this palace… Made her feel jumpy, even uneasy.

She remembered being taken out of the King's Estate just before her father's coronation. The walls, the floors and corridors, the rooms and halls, all of them felt icy, forbidding and terrifying to her. She was in alien terrain where many things were covered in shadow. The palace's royal quarters and wing were rarely used by the royal family all of whom did not enjoy being inside the royal palace.

Aglaia closed her eyes. This place held hostile, cold and terrifying memories from her childhood. She never wanted to see this place again.

Shortly after her grandfather died and her father became king, Aglaia's parents set off on a tour. Her brother Alexios had been sent to boarding school at this time, and so was Dimitri- some sort of academy for military or intelligence officers (that explained a lot about them) and Aglaia too young, too coddled by not only her parents but her much older brothers, was left, not at home, but the cold, vast, forbidding palace as hostile as a haunted mansion to her.

The governess' beatings also did not help. Whipping Aglaia, making her stand or sit tied to a chair for hours on end, screamed and verbally abused at and shoved inside a closet stuffed with nails and bits of broken glass at the door and walls or left with no food or drink, Aglaia had no fond memories at all. Of course someone found out: her cousin the Danish Crown Prince. He'd seen a rather nasty bruise swelling on the back of Aglaia's neck, long and slender even for her young age and despite the governess' attempts, unable to be concealed by the high-necked dress she wore. It was him that broke the news. Needless to say the scandal that swept throughout the country and the continent was like wildfire, and her family, the staff and more found excuses to smother her and not let her out of their sights. She had to battle like mad to be allowed to study in England where she would not be recognised.

Needless to say, Aglaia wanted nothing more than to be in the King's Estate- what a home really was- at that moment. Even the palace in London with Cyrus. Anything but here.

Sensing her thoughts, Robert moved forwards and gently touched her arm. She couldn't conceal her loathing of this place from him.

His eyes looked at her in knowing. "Come on," he gently nudged her.

Cyrus prepared to down another bottle- only to find out it had run out. Scowling, he tossed the decanter to one side, and stalked back to the couch, prepared to sulk.

But something stopped him.

He scowled more.

Veruca was gone. Goodness knows where his wife-turned-ex-wife-turned-wife had gone off to now. The last he had heard was that after his elder idiot of a daughter Penelope had married the insipid brat of a Dutch prince, Maribel, the younger of the two dimwits had married that Prince… Something-or-Other.

Well, actually, he admitted to himself, he did know where his wife was. Just not exactly precisely where or what she was doing there.

Or rather, he knew what she wanted, but how in the world could she possibly get it?

Cyrus snorted. Veruca always depended on people to do her dirty work for her. The first time she didn't was when she went to find that Chinese doctor and obtained the medicine for the girls. And that had been a stupid plan. No, she was bound to have someone to help her.

Cyrus was silent.

He knew Robert had the strong, firm alliance of Aglaia's family in Greece and her Danish relatives to back him up in case anything ever happened to his position on the throne. Plus, everyone liked Robert and his beautiful bride. And their remarkably attractive children who had more brains than Cyrus' girls.

And nobody liked him.

Now Cyrus needed a drink.

But what was this? How long did he just sit there, quietly disappearing in the corner, drinking himself to oblivion? What had it all been for? His plans and schemes, his lost love, his lost son, his estrangement with his only family, his own two daughters- idiots as they were- who were forcibly impregnated by their scheming bitch of a mother and then married off and banished to faraway nations as if they were diseases people couldn't wait to be rid of?

Or maybe… It could be worth something.

After all, he knew Prince… Whatever his name was from Swaziland was not his father's firstborn. However, the Swazi chose their next kings. All the kings were chosen. Not by those people, not with democracy. Cyrus grimaced. No, but some behind the scenes manipulations no doubt. Maribel could be a queen. He then frowned. Or rather, she could be one of many queens. But Maribel could become a future king's mother- and rule as joint head of state. Cyrus had heard that from people whispering about. The ones Robert or the Greeks had sent to keep a close eye on him.

Penelope was closer in the Netherlands, but he knew that in countries like those in Europe, the monarchy was far more… Rigid. Maribel would have the power.

Cyrus smiled, slowly smiled, as he felt a fire rising within him which he thought long-quenched and a plan began to formulate in his mind.

Maribel and Penelope would be queens. And he would regain his throne if it was the last thing he did.

"Damn it," Len nearly growled.

"What's wrong?" Jasper muttered, leaning forwards.

"I can't do this," Len nearly broke out in a nervous sweat. "I've… Um… Spent too much time partying… Wasted." She nearly laughed out loud as she swallowed the alcohol, letting it burn down her throat. "I'm not like her."

"Yes, you're not like her," Jasper insisted. "Does that mean it's a bad thing?"

"No, but she's clearly had more experience and more time to get things started before I did," Len argued. She shook her head.

Jasper sighed. "Well… Perrine Bruyere received your sketches," Jasper stated. "He's going to make his decision soon."

Len put the glass down hard on the counter. "Right. He's not going to pick me. He's never going to pick me." She got up and started to walk away. Jasper opened his mouth about to argue when Len called back: "No one in their right mind is ever going to pick me."

At the car however, Jasper frowned when he saw someone running.

Someone who looked eager and excited, clutching the brown manila envelope full of Len's sketches. And a smaller white envelope.

Len's eyes bugged as she read the invitation.

"So who is she?" Princess Arinya of Thailand asked Perrine Bruyere.

The French designer was one of her favourites and closest friends.

"Who is who?" Ms. Bruyere asked curiously.

"This… Unnamed talent." Arinya said, tapping her long, immaculately manicured fingernail on the table. She sipped her cocktail. She was dressed glamorously, as usual, in one of her own designs. A red lustrous mini-dress with a gold filigree embroidery motif glittering jewels like garnets and topazes artfully and tastefully placed here and there and on her fuchsia handbag adorned with the faint outline of a peacock. Her shine of long black hair was swept over one shoulder, softly waving with a curl at the end. She had big beautiful brown eyes, warm as coffee, high cheekbones, a tanned complexion and full reddish-pink lips. She was gorgeous and the world knew it.

They also knew she was smart, successful, talented and more.

Like Aglaia's brothers and Aglaia herself she had had to fight to be known as more than just a princess and a pretty face wearing tiaras and living in a palace. She had gotten this far. She wasn't about to let that hard-won prize go.

"You'll be surprised," Perrine replied. The Thai princess tilted her head. "It's Princess Eleanor of the UK."

To say that Arinya was shocked was an understatement. "What?" She sat stunned.

"Princess Eleanor Henstridge." Perrine calmly replied.

Arinya opened her mouth and closed it. She cleared her throat and tried to speak to her shock. "Are you sure?" She managed to do more than squeak.

"I'm certain. And I've just spoke to her. She's coming right now."

"What?" Arinya stood. "You invited her?" She gaped in frank astonishment and something close to outrage.

"What's wrong?" Perrine asked.

Arinya looked aghast. "If any photographer or journalist sees us together," she hissed. "They'll start assuming that I'm a drug addict." She fumed. "Then my sales will fall. My boutiques shut down, my label will be defunct before I know it and even my new fragrance…" She was enraged.

"That party girl," she hissed. "Eleanor Henstridge. Really?" She looked almost disgusted. "If anyone hears a tiny whisper of my name connected with being anywhere near her vague location- that's it!" She nearly snarled.

Perrine looked disturbed. "Arinya, maybe she's not as bad as you think." Arinya narrowed her eyes.

Arinya had had to work hard in order to prove her own worth. Not just to her people but to her father. The granddaughter of the much-loved and adored Thai king, her father his son was so unlike his father they had been compared to Marcus Aurelius (the wise, successful general and philosopher) and his son Commodus (who began to destroy the Roman Empire with his excess, vanity and sadism). His father had divorced his first wife, less than a year, stolen another man's wife who gave birth to several children all the while abusing her too. Arinya had come from that second marriage, the youngest child. When her mother couldn't take it anymore, she fled the country with her children. Her diplomatic passport like Veruca's, was stripped from her and Arinya's older siblings. As was their titles. But- out of spite not the goodness of his own heart or love of her- Arinya's father had kidnapped her and took her back to Thailand. He proceeded to marry and discard another wife and live with numerous women, a number of whom were escorts or something like that. Arinya had had to work hard to prove herself.

On the other hand there was Eleanor Henstridge, loved by her father- even with that paternity test fiasco- never had to worry about money a day in her life (Arinya's father had often neglected her, she had outgrown most of her clothes by the time she began puberty, that was when her nanny started teaching her to make them), and yet she partied like mad, did drugs and basically shamed herself, her country and her family the way Arinya's own father did.

A chord struck home, Arinya felt that. And she felt disgust.

Arinya narrowed her eyes. "Is she doing this out of a hobby she wants to discard a few minutes later and forget about before moving to something else? Is she bored? Not enough drugs for the English princess?" She nearly snapped.

"Arinya," Perrine warned her.

Perrine had taken Arinya under her wing too.

"You're mad if you think she's ever going to work hard enough or even try to." Arinya informed her point-blanc. "I doubt she even knows how to sew. She's a spoiled brat, a drug addict and forgive me, a bitch."

"Arinya," Perrine said sternly. "People change."

Arinya narrowed her eyes. "I thought the same thing about my father once," she said in a dangerously quiet voice. "But forgive me, he's as spoiled and overgrown a brat as this princess. And he's addicted to sex and drugs just like her. He hasn't changed and he's over fifty. Do you really think this young woman can or even wants to?"

"Why don't you just see," Perrine closed her eyes wearily. She knew why Arinya was acting this way.

Arinya sighed.

"We'll see." She stated bluntly.

Aglaia hated the Royal Palace in Athens.

It had taken a while for her to tell Robert the story but when she did he was undoubtedly horrified.

It didn't make her feel any better.

And she didn't know how to begin to tell him about her other memories. She didn't want to remember him.

But somehow, she knew she might not have a choice.

Aglaia got up from the bed.

"I can't sleep," she admitted.

Robert sighed. "Neither can I." He looked at her. "You really hate this place, don't you?"

Aglaia winced. "Sorry. I shouldn't keep you from resting."

"Hey, don't be sorry." He turned round and held her close. "You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about."

Aglaia shifted and sat up. She got up from the bed and sat down on a sofa, Robert followed her and he pulled her backwards so that she was leaning on him.

She sighed. "There are too many ghosts." She admitted.

Robert knew what she was haunted by. He suddenly wondered what happened to Leonidas Dimitriou. But he didn't want his good mood tainted.

Robert kissed her. "No matter what happened, no matter what comes after," he breathed.

"I'll always love you." She whispered, completing the vow they both made.

Both of them were haunted and disturbed. They had both gone through too much in their lives.

The royal wedding began as soon as the guests and wedding party arrived.

Alexios stood at the front of the altar with Dimitri by his side. Aglaia watched as Artemisia glided up the aisle on the arm of her father.

She remembered the Greek Orthodox ceremony she and Robert undertook in privacy in order to get their marriage recognised by her faith. The same thing happened here; the same elaborate, beautiful rituals.

Unlike in other Christian weddings, there were no vows. Why? Because Orthodox Christians believed that their presence before Christ through the priest and the congregation signifies that they wish to be joined and therefore God recognised the union as such. It was enough.

Aglaia watched as the Service of Betrothal- the first part of the ceremony, commenced.

The bishop offered prayers up to Heaven on behalf of the couple. The rings were brought out to him on a silver tray on a square of linen. He proceeded to pray for God's blessings on the rings and bless the bride and groom three times for the Father, Son and Holy Spirit first on the groom then the bride using weaving motions that represented their lives entwining henceforth.

Aglaia studied her new sister-in-law intently. She looked nervous. Artemisia was a beautiful dark-haired girl. She was pale, but she drew herself straight and proud. She looked delicate but Aglaia could easily tell she was tough. Aglaia approved of her and thought her good for her brother. And she would welcome this girl into her family as warmly and as accepting as if she had been born into it. The bride and groom outstretched their right hands and the bishop placed their rings on the ring fingers. Not the left hand. In truth Aglaia had worn the same ring used for both the Greek Orthodox and Anglican ceremonies she just moved it from right hand to left. She was sure it confused royal watchers but that was the reason behind her 'wedding ring rotations'.

Aglaia's part in the ceremony began. She exchanged the rings on the bride and groom three times, symbolising the Holy Trinity and the couple's union. The prayer to seal the placement of rings began and she made her way back to her seat.

Much to her relief, the babies- one on her mother's lap, one being sitting on her cousin's knee minding it for her before being moved to her father's, and another with Robert- did not fuss or make the slightest noises. Of course royal watchers would question the wisdom of bringing three babies to such a long service in church but their uncle and new aunt insisted on them being there. No one had a right to dispute that. They appeared more fascinated then anything as to the lady in the long white lace dress and veil, the rings being moved around by their mother and more. Aglaia looked at Robert and they both exchanged wistful glances remembering both ceremonies, one which they did quietly and the other publicly, for their marriage.

God was beseeched to give this couple a long, happy and loving union, before three prayers were read. Aglaia fell silent as she looked at her mother and father, and then at her babies. One day, hopefully- though not for a long time- she would witness each of her children getting married.

She wondered at the joy and pain her parents must have felt. More pain than anything, she thought with an inner grimace as she remembered her parents' reaction and the country's, to her marrying a Henstridge, even the best of a rotten bunch in their eyes. The media had a smear campaign against them for weeks.

Aglaia nearly scowled. This wasn't fair. Who were they to judge? She was sure that there were plenty of people who had affairs outside of their marriage (not that that was any excuse) schemed to get an inheritance (not an excuse again, though) and that there were children who went wild in parties (again). What was so fair about her union being looked down upon? Was it because in Greece and nearly everywhere else it was because you married into the whole family? And therefore they had to be a good one? People had been angry for months in Athens…

Banishing these thoughts from her mind, Aglaia mentally scolded herself for being so petty and selfish when by all means, she should have been rejoicing at her dear, beloved brother's wedding. She watched as the priest took the crowns and blessing the bride and groom placed them on their heads, beseeching, "O Lord our God, crown them with glory and honour," God gave His blessings on the couple in the form of crowns which also signified that the couple would be beginning a new kingdom reigning under God's authority. It fell to Dimitri to exchange the crowns over the couple's heads to seal the union before the readings were carried out. By this time Aglaia was still feeling shameful and berating herself for her selfish resentfulness- perhaps a sign that she wasn't really accepting of her family's authority as a whole- a sin, she knew. She accepted Andrew and began to gently cradle him as his eyes drooped- a good sign, she thought. She knew this was all pushing his patience.

The bride and groom drank from a shared cup of wine before he led them around the altar, as they took their first steps of husband and wife. Good luck, Aglaia thought to her new sister-in-law. She had no idea, surely, what she was getting herself into. She hoped that at least here in Greece, things would be calmer, a lot less hectic, and not so overwhelming. They would be living in their own estate.

After the benediction the couple departed for their horse-drawn carriage ride throughout the city and then to the royal palace for the reception.

What's wrong with me? Aglaia thought.

Surely she didn't resent her parents' and brothers' interference in her marriage? Or the Ministerial Council? After all, they only wanted to prevent another civil war, no one- no one could blame them for that!

And she shouldn't be so selfish! Her parents and brothers gave without a single thought for themselves towards her! So really, she shouldn't be thinking about herself at all on this day!

Aglaia was getting angry with herself when she entered her quarters to change into something for the evening dinner and ball.

Unpinning the fascinator from her head and placing her clutch down on the table, Aglaia had the dress prepared. A full, floor-length ball gown in creamy white with tiers of simple ruffles and underneath the close-fitting bodice and lace trim. She was about to pick it up when something made her freeze.

On the bed next to the gown sat a rose, sculpted out of cast sugar and tinted with rosewater.

She dropped the dress.

There was no possible way the staff could have come inside with that… Could they? And she was sure as hell that Robert did not leave it there.

Only one person ever did such a thing- a habit of his. And in her mind, she could see the mocking flash of white teeth, the shine of his auburn hair and the gleam in his grey-blue eyes.

It can't be. He was dead. There was no possible way. He couldn't be alive.

She gasped, turning wildly, checking for any secret doors.

"Where are you?" She whispered in terror.