The Prime stayed silent for a long time when he'd finished his tale. I poked him in the arm to see if he was still alive. His eyes opened with a start, as red as the puddle he was sitting in.
He grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and shoved a small bag in my hand as I fought his grip. "Find the Lady and give her these. They belong to her." His chest heaved. "Tell her my son is now Prime. Tell her, I'm not sorr—"
His head lolled to the side. The pressure on my neck eased, and I wrenched myself free of his dead hand. I ran from room to room searching for the Lady. The soldiers had gone, ransacking some rooms and leaving others to the fire now engulfing parts of the palace.
I found my mistress walking up the grand staircase leading to the West wing. Fat trails of smoke billowed from under the heavy curtains lining the walls on the landing.
"My Lady", I called. "The Prime is dead. Long live the new Prime," and I did a little dance at the bottom of the steps, I am ashamed to say now.
She turned her head, and let out a bitter laugh. "There are no more Primes, child." She opened her fingers and her phaser bounced all the way down to my feet. "Save yourself. Run away from this place," she added before continuing up the stairs into the shimmering haze waiting for her at the top.
"But I've got a gift for you, from the Prime," I shouted, stepping over the weapon. Before I even grabbed the handrail, the curtains ignited one after the other with a deep rumble. Waves of heat rushed down the staircase, and I was driven back, weeping and sputtering.
When I glanced back, the Lady had reached the top step. A tide of flames rose around her and raced up her dress with a roar. Without uttering a sound, she walked into the roiling depths of the fire.
I never saw her again.
I fled to the garden and into a small raucous crowd dragging the corpse of the Prince by his feet, his lifeless body bouncing on the pavers. Laughing and screaming, they strung him up from one of the giant statues of the Prime, before returning to loot what they could carry. Flies were already buzzing around a single phaser hole on the left of his chest armour, like sharks rushing at a carcass. His eyes were open wide, as if in disbelief as to whom had meted his end.
The fall of the House was complete.
Throughout the years which bled into decades, I held on to the small bag I had failed to deliver. If only I had plucked the courage to run up the stairs and give the Lady what was hers, she might have turned around and not sought out death. Although, I don't see why she would have cared for four small metal studs fastened in a straight line onto a torn scrap of grey fabric.
As I've said before, I never understood what was in the hearts of those who used to cross the vast and silent sea that lies beyond the stars.