Solomon shifted through the documents. The troops had followed his orders and moved back across the border. The reports showed Albion and the Vatican had done the same, marking the start of the edgy stalemate. It wasn't enough.

He set down the documents and rubbed his eyes. This wasn't peace, it was glaring match. As long as the Vatican and Albion forces remained so close to the border, Solomon couldn't request for Seth to send their troops home. No, not when there was a chance the Albion army would take it as a chance to invade them. Yet, he knew having their own forces remain close to the border would only keep the Vatican and Albion armies uneasy.

Then, there was the funeral plans. Solomon closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. Raw pain filled his heart. He, alone, out of Abel's trusted friends, knew their emperor still lived. That Abel had given himself over to the Vatican for peace. He'd sold his freedom for it. An agreement the Vatican was only honoring in the present because of their pope's orders. Or so he had gathered from the reports.

He opened his eyes to the ceiling. It was light enough thanks to the sun beyond the drawn curtains. It was late in the imperial night. Any other night and Solomon would have been asleep beside his wife. Not this night.

A few letters had arrived from the Vatican. It was proof Cain had been behind the war. Solomon had yet to tell Seth any of this. They had a funeral to prepare for. Did she really need more bad news? No.

There was enough for Seth to worry about. When matters had settled down a little, he could tell her. Though, a part of him knew she had already figured it out given how quiet she had been about her other brother – the traitor. Solomon's hand balled into a fist. If Cain still lived, he would have…

A small breath escaped him. Cain didn't still live. There was no point in such thoughts.

Abel.

Pain shot through Solomon. If this was his leader's wish, the only way to peace, then what option did he have but to follow? The papers slid from his hand.

The sound of a door clicking shut echoed through the silent room.

Solomon straightened to see Seth padding towards him on silent feet. Her eyes hallow with pain.

"Did I wake you?" Worry shot through Solomon. She needed her sleep especially considering she had gotten little since she had returned.

Seth shook her head and settled next to him on the couch. She curled herself into his embrace. "Have you checked on Aran?"

"Before bed," Solomon informed her. "He's still in a state of shock. Athina's with him."

Seth nodded.

Solomon wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He wished he could say something or do something to cheer her up. Yet, his own heart ached with pain. How could he help his wife when sorrow pierced deeper into him with each passing hour?

Solomon closed his eyes and drew Seth towards him.

The only answer was to share in their grief and comfort one another as best as they could. The feeling of her warmth against him, was far more welcoming than he had thought it would be. Some of his pain eased back.

"More people are coming as the news spreads, aren't they?" Seth whispered the question. Her hand warm and touch gentle on his chin.

"They are," Solomon confirmed.

The news of Abel's death had traveled like wildfire through the empire. More people were traveling here by the day to mourn their fallen emperor. Solomon couldn't blame them. Abel had been extremely popular, especially through both wars. The man who would give anything and everything for his people. If only Solomon had known back when they had elected him president of the colony this would extend to his freedom. A freedom Abel had fought so hard to achieve having been created to serve humanity.

"It shouldn't be like this." Seth's fingers curled against his chest, pulling at the thin, white undershirt he wore. "If Lilith," she choked on her words.

Solomon drew her even closer and kissed the top of her head.

"I-I have to pretend I'm gone too. This, it has to happen for peace, but the people—"

Solomon brushed the tears from her beautiful face. "We'll discuss it with the others, my love."

Cain, Abel's older twin brother and the original leader of the Mars Colony before they had returned to Earth, before even the Civil War, had been driven insane when the Crusnik nano-machines had fused with him. He had gone to the Ark which always hung in the sky as a wicked second moon, and killed Lilith before the peace meeting could take place to end the war which had erupted between the Returners or Empire and the Vatican.

The war was ending now, but only because of Abel. Solomon understood for this war to fully end, all of Abel's family had to vanish. This meant Seth had to change her name. He couldn't bring himself to think on what else it would mean, especially for their relationship. Yet, he knew he would do anything if it meant ensuring Abel's sacrifice wasn't for nothing.

Solomon shoved the thoughts down. He didn't want to think on it right then. It was painful enough knowing Abel was in the Vatican. That his fight might never end.

"We should both try to sleep." Solomon brushed his thumb over her cheeks again. Her tears trickled down his thumb. "Tomorrow," he trailed off. Tomorrow was the funereal.

Seth nodded. She pulled a little from him.

Solomon gave her a soft smile. He pulled her into his arms and stood.

"Solomon," Seth gave a small protest. It died in her throat and she curled into his hold.

Her small, thirteen-year-old body made it easy to carry her. Yet, she was the same age Solomon no matter how old she looked. Once, long ago, he had wondered what she would have looked like if the crusnik had never been fused to her. It didn't matter now. For him, she was his greatest love. She was beautiful no matter what age she looked. She would always be his greatest love.

Solomon placed on her the bed before he joined her. He pulled the sheets over them. Seth curled into his chest, her head resting on his arm.

"I keep hoping I will wake and know the past few days have been a nightmare," Seth's voice was soft in the darkness of their room. Her hand curled around his.

"I know." Solomon gave her hand a squeeze. What he wanted to say was "I will always be here for you," but he couldn't. Seth was near immortal because of the crusnik nano-machines. He wasn't. He would live less than two hundred more years if he was extremely lucky.

Solomon closed his eyes. Pain spread through him from his heart. He couldn't leave Seth and Abel. He had promised Lilith long ago he would always be there for the both of them. Yet, how could he keep such a promise now knowing what he knew? Now that Abel was in the Vatican?

These questions and pain twisted around his mind even as Seth's gentle breathing lulled him to sleep.

Solomon was roused only a few hours later, his mind too restless for sleep. He shifted a little. Seth was still asleep beside him, her head resting against his arm. She tossed a little in her sleep. It was the same as nights after a battle when they were both home in the empire. The same as right after the Civil War had ended back on Mars.

"Seth." Solomon touched her shoulder. "It's only a nightmare." He kissed her cheek.

Seth groaned and opened her eyes a slit. She blinked at him. Her eyes shifted in confusion as if she were still trapped in her nightmare. "Lilith is," her eyes watered. She buried her face in his chest.

Solomon stroked her head and held her close as she wept.

Her sobs died away to pained breaths. "She's really gone," she choked out the words. "They're really all gone." Her grip tightened on his shirt. Solomon didn't need to see her face to know how much pain she was in.

He wished there was something more he could do or say. There wasn't. Lilith had been killed by Cain. Abel had left over the matter both broken over Lilith's death and to give himself for even a tenuous peace with the terrans. Nothing about this would help Seth now. She had lost her entire family overnight.

Solomon closed his eyes and kissed the top of her head. He was here for her, no matter what.

x – Aran – x

The imperial morning dawned with a bitter chill.

Aran sat awake, staring at the candy bar he had bought for his dad. He flipped in his hands, listening as the wrapper crinkled under the movement.

"You look dead," Athy commented from where she sat watching him. They were both in the main room of Aran's apartments. "The pain does dim." There was pain in her own gaze as she spoke.

Aran shook his head. He didn't want the pain to dim. It meant he would forget his dad. How could he ever forget him? Aran clutched the candy bar to his chest. His eyes burned.

Warmth passed over Aran's shoulders. He didn't look at Athy as she settled beside him.

"I know it hurts." She pulled him into an embrace. "I miss Uncle Abel as well as my dad."

Her dad, Arthur Asran, had been killed at the very start of the terran-Methuselah War. His death had sparked the war which had lasted all of Aran's life into motion. Now, now, his own dad's death had halted the war. How was it right? His dad was the emperor. Hers had only been his dad's best friend. Yet, no one was going to avenge his dad's death like they had Athy's.

Avenge?

Aran closed his eyes. What would more fighting achieve? His dad had been killed at a peace meeting. His last breaths taken in the hopes Aran and Azul wouldn't grow up knowing only war.

Tears slid down Aran's face. "It's not fair," he choked. "D-dad only wanted peace."

"I know." Athy's voice trembled a little. "I know." A few moments passed in a pained silence before Athy pulled away from him. "Come on. We need to get ready."

Ready? Aran shook his head. He didn't want to go to a funeral, least of his dad's. To go was to accept he would never see his dad again. The thought sank in deep and ripped at his heart.

"No."

Athy returned to his side. "It's to honor him, Aran," her voice was soft. "To remember everything Uncle Abel did. Don't you want to remember his life? Every moment he was there for you and your brother? To remember both the good and the bad?"

"He's not dead," Aran snapped. "Nothing can kill dad, nothing!"

A small sound came from Athy.

Aran looked away from the candy bar to her. Tears slid slowly down her face. Her normally short, neat auburn hair was tangled, brown eyes bloodshot with her own pain. Abel had meant a lot to her as well. But he hadn't been her dad. He'd been Aran's, no matter if he was adopted. Abel had raised him. Abel was his dad! And he wasn't dead.

"Aran," Athy whispered, "you need this." She held out her hand to him. "It will help. Just remember him, all of him. Uncle Abel deserves that much, at the very least. People will think you're rejecting him if you don't go."

Aran glared at her. "That's not true!" He leapt to his feet. "He's my dad!" He raced into his bedroom and slammed the door behind him.

Clothing had been set out the night before by the servants. Aran glared at the finery, dark as the imperial day. How could his dad be gone? He was the strongest in all of the empire. Their people's sword and shield.

Hot tears burned Aran's eyes. He sank to the floor. "Dad," he choked. He wept, being as quiet as he could so Athy wouldn't storm in here to try and "help." He wept until his tears ran dry then just stared unseeing at his bare feet.

A light knock sounded on the door.

Aran jumped. "Go away, Athy!" he snapped.

"Aran?"

He stiffened. It wasn't Athy at all, rather his uncle.

"May I enter?" Solomon's smooth voice came from the other side of the door. There was always a calm about his uncle which eased back the worst pain and fear.

Aran took a deep breath. "I," he choked. Then, he stood and opened the door.

Sure enough, Uncle Solomon stood there. He was dressed for the occasion in full ceremonial military uniform. Solomon was the head of military affairs within the empire. He was well known as a strategist, second only to Abel within the empire.

His uncle's long, dark, curly hair was tied back from his face in an almost stern fashion. Despite the straightness of his features, Aran could see the pain reflected in his uncle's dark gaze. This was enough for Aran to know his uncle was mourning Abel as well.

Solomon crossed into the room and lifted Aran's clothing. "You need to get ready." He passed Aran the shirt and pants. His gaze turned kind as he looked at Aran, his gloved hand rested against Aran's face. He looked Aran in the eye. "Your father loved you and your brother more anything in the world," he told Aran. "As did Lilith."

Aran's throat constricted at the mention of his mom. A mom his brother would never get to know now.

"Know, everything they ever did was for you and your brother's future, especially the peace they both envisioned in the end."

Aran bowed his head. "Did," the words lodged in his throat and he took a deep breath, "did they die for nothing?"

"Never, Aran. Peace will come."

Aran looked into his uncle's even features. He took a deep breath and nodded.

Solomon gave him a soft smile before he left the room.

All too soon Aran was dressed and leaving his room. The dark finery pulled at his heart. Azul shifted just in the hall. He, like Uncle Solomon, wore his ceremonial uniform. His brother had joined the military at eighteen, but even then, their dad had refused to let Azul or even any of his wards who had joined the military as well ever set foot on the frontlines, not until they awakened as Methuselah. This had yet to happen.

Aunt Seth stood beside Aran. A dark veil covered her face. Despite this, black had never suited his aunt. The whites and greens she normally wore did. Veil was so thick, Aran could barely see the outline of her face through it. It was as if the veil was a mask against all pains of the world.

Seth looked up at him or he assumed she did. "Ready?" she asked, voice steady.

Aran bowed his head. He would never be ready for today.

A hand on his shoulder made Aran look at his older brother. Azul gave him a half-hearted smile. "For father," he whispered.

Aran nodded. Yes, to honor their dad's life one last time. He fell in beside his brother just behind his aunt and uncle. Athy wasn't anywhere to be seen. Aran assumed she had left to get ready while he had been.

The streets of Byzantium, the imperial capital, were far more crowded than Aran was used to. Their carriage was hard pressed to make it through the thickening throngs of people.

Aran peered out at them. All of them were dressed in the clothes of mourning.

"Wow," Azul breathed. "Are they all here for father?"

Aran dropped the curtain. Another reminder of how much their dad had meant to every one of his people. How would the empire go on without him? He closed his eyes. It was impossible to imagine the empire without his dad on the throne.

"For him and Lilith," Solomon replied.

Aran looked at his uncle. His expression gave nothing away on his own feeling towards Lilith.

"But didn't she betray the empire?" Azul asked.

"It doesn't change the fact she helped lead our people," Solomon explained. "Or the fact she and your father were together."

Azul nodded. "Right," he whispered.

Aran couldn't look at his brother. He would never view Lilith as their mom now. Never.

The island was already filling up with mourners when they arrived by boot on the shore. Aran had been here a few times with his dad when Abel had gone to pay respects to Athy's parents and Williams who had died the same day as Arthur Asran. Their deaths had sparked the war. Now, his parents' deaths would end it.

Aran took a deep breath. He followed close behind his uncle and aunt. His brother stayed close to his side. Their guards were only a step behind them.

When Aran reached the top of the hill, his gaze fell across the rest of his father's closest friends. Barack, Alexander, and Athy all stood in uniform just like Solomon. Barack towered over the pilot, even as his head was bowed. Pain visible on his dark features even from the distance Aran stood from him. He looked almost shattered. As if the lightest of winds would pull him away in every direction.

Alexander didn't look much better beside Barack. His gaze was locked on the sea as if he expected Abel to suddenly appear on one of the boots coming from the main land.

Aran followed his gaze and blinked. Candles were already being lit. The lights of the city off to show the shore lined with small dots. The boots were packed and visible by the sheer number of lights flickering into life across them.

"Aran," his uncle's voice was soft.

Aran turned and took the candle his uncle held out to him. His uncle dipped his own lit candle so the wick touched Aran's. A small flame flickered to life. Aran stared at it. Such a soft, dangerous beauty to mourn his dad's life by.

He glanced back at the empire. The lights shimmered in the darkness of the imperial day. There had to be over a million of them.

Dad.

Aran's eyes burned. He fought back the tears.

If only his dad could see just how many people missed him and honored the life he had led. Yet, if he could see it, then they wouldn't have to be here.

Aran closed his eyes. He held to the image of his dad, held to the soft sound of his voice, and his kind, loving smile. The hours spent teaching Aran to read and the pride he had shown when Aran had told him he wanted to be a doctor. That Aran wanted to help heal people, to save lives.

He would keep making his dad proud even if his dad couldn't be here to see it. Peace would come. A peace his parents could be proud of. No matter how long it took, Aran would help achieve their dream.

(Author's Note: I realize chapters told by OCs aren't popular, but this one has to be.

So, I was rereading the first book in this fan-fiction series and, I know Solomon is an OC, but I just adore him with Seth. I can't wait to write in Dreams of Generation how they fell in love since the last book Divergent Path never focused on that and they were dating by the time the Civil War ended.

Also, I was crying through this chapter. Any of you reading Emperor's Mask might know the reason why. The other reason why is Solomon.)