Miquella waited outside in the hallway with a beaming smile and a flower hidden behind his back. Earlier, he pushed the servants to hurry in braiding his long blond hair so that he might go out and check on his lillies. How delighted he was that they had grown so robust, but still not perfect. So, he waited for days. And days. And days. Every morning he checked against his mother's suggestion.

"Sometimes progress cannot be seen day to day," she said.

Eventually, Miquella's patience was exhausted and he plucked one. What did perfection matter if he had to wait so long to see it? It was beautiful all the same and he knew it would delight his little sister.

Miquella stood up on his toes as he always did when he felt anxious as he paced in front of the closed door. It had to be a good day today! It had to! They gave Malenia some different medicine.

Miquella's heart lept in joy when the door opened and two women dressed in white stepped out.

"Little sister!" he exclaimed, but the door was slammed shut as soon as it was open. Without saying a word, the women scurried off to fetch some supplies.

Miquella dropped the flower and covered his mouth. Even with the door closed, he still heard the terrible shrieks within. Tears welled up in Miquella's eyes as the door remained closed.

"I want my mommy! Please... stop... Please. I want my mommy. No! No! No! Stop it! Please stop it!" Malenia cried. The next was an ear-splitting scream.

"Miquella!"

In almost a trance, Miquella turned around to see his father staring down at him.

"Miquella, son. What are you doing here?"

"I-I..." He stuttered.

"I told you that if Malenia ever wants to play, someone will fetch you," said Radagon. "She doesn't want to play today. Come on. You're missing your morning prayers."

Radagon held out his hand which Miquella took.

It was always the unwritten, yet well-established rule that if Miquella didn't ask, then no one had to lie. And so anything "new" or otherwise out of the ordinary was never asked about or questioned. No matter what, Miquella was expected to conduct himself as though everything was normal, no matter how out of place it was. Whether it was the frequent pretty women who would enter Godwyn's chamber, to the giant hairy man they called Mr. Margit that Miquella saw wandering the grounds from time to time.

Normal.

Ranni's cries when she thought she was alone.

Normal.

The "tall women" who came and went without saying a word.

Normal.

They came to the church and Radagon led his son towards the altar and statue of Queen Marika. The city was still quiet as the curfew of quiet hours wasn't lifted.

"Let us pray," said Radagon as he knelt before the statue of Marika.

Miquella knelt beside him with his hands clasped together.

Miquella always thought it was strange that he would kneel before an alter of Marika when she was his mother he saw almost every day. In one rare moment where Radagon did explain, he told Miquella it was to "set an example" for others to follow.

If it was an example, then there was never anyone to see it. Miquella never recalled seeing any else come in while they were there.

Miquella was told there was singing when he was born and the boy could imagine it was beautiful. The walls were such that even the slightest whisper echoed an ethereal sound. It seemed the very walls itself had the power to turn any voice beautiful.

"Can I pray for my sister?" Miquella asked.

Radagon raised an eyebrow and Miquella thought he said something wrong.

Radagon nodded and said, "Okay. So long as you pray."

And pray Miquella did. That Malenia would have nothing but "good days." And that she wouldn't be afraid. That her sight would improve...

"Miquella," said Radagon, interrupting the prayer. "Let's go, son."

Upon hearing his son's prayer, Radagon decided it best that he take Miquella out to the outskirts of the capital. Just the two of them.

At first, Miquella sat on the grass with his head rested on his knees. It wasn't fun without Malenia. Or Godwyn. Even Radahn played with them on occasion. At least his horse did. Radahn allowed the twins to take the reigns and lead Leonard around the stable to much the twin's delight.

Eventually, Radagon suggested that Miquella wade out into the water and look for some "treasures". The suggestion worked and soon Miquella was laughing and giggling as he chased some insects.

For a time, Miquella's young mind was relieved of the burdens of the palace. It had been a while since he and his father spent significant time together and Miquella started to soak every second of it. He ran through the fields and stopped at every little thing to show his father. He waded out to the moat where he collected a good number of interesting rocks, insects, shells, and plants that he wished to show to Malenia "when she felt better."

He was fascinated by the rare phenomenon of the sun and the moon appearing in the same sky and pointed it out to Radagon.

This is how a boy should be, thought Radagon. Playing and laughing. Certainly not distracted by any of those petty things happening in that palace.

The only thing Miquella should burden himself with was his education, of which Radagon decided to give him a break from. Whatever happened to Malenia... well, it was just unfortunate, but it was still hard for Miquella to understand the greater purpose behind all of this. It was better if Miquella didn't know she existed at all, but in that matter, Radagon had no say.

Radagon wasn't even allowed to see them for at least several months after their birth until he and Marika were "unified" at least in the body. The mind was another matter. Marika still clung to Godfrey. All the tenants necessary to retain the absolute order and basis for the Lands-Between started to crumble.

Radagon's purpose was to ensure it did not fall away entirely under Marika's whims.

Miquella was seven years old, but no one would think he was more than four. His progression had halted when Marika decided, for whatever reason, that Malenia's life was more important than the entirety of the Greater Will's plan. Radagon tried to explain that despite being a goddess, she couldn't comprehend fully how many lives such actions might affect.

She didn't seem to care at all.

"Papa?" said Miquella.

"Humm?"

"Could you tell me that story? The one where the warrior found the Queen of the Full Moon?"

"That story again? How many times have I already told it? I bet you could tell it better than I can by now?" chuckled Radagon.

"I like it when you tell me."

"Alright. Once there was a warrior," said Radagon as he took Miquella into his arms.

"He was a champion, right?"

"That he was. With long hair."

"And red! Was it like yours and Malenia's?"

Radagon frowned as his heart sank. He hadn't thought about Malenia like that for a time.

"Papa?"

"Yeah," said Radagon. "Like your sister's."

"Then he stood before the queen."

"Yes."

"With an entire army at his back! A thousand of them!"

"Yes."

"And they fought for days. Clashing swords and screams of men. And when the champion got to the queen, he fought her too."

"Yes. Until he couldn't anymore. So they stood on the battlefield and stared at one another. Each daring the other to move. But then they both fell to their knees completely exhausted. They were tired. They had already lost friends... so they just kneeled in the mud and let the rain fall all over them."

Radagon's voice started to fade out. Miquella wrinkled an eyebrow. This was different than how his father used to tell the story. He used to say how they decided not to fight anymore and became friends after that.

"Then what, Papa?"

"They both cried..."

Radagon started to sing a gentle melody as he stared up at that moon. Miquella placed his head against his father's chest, who pulled him in for a tight embrace. Tears soon came and dripped down onto Miquella's head. He started to cry a little too.

There was a moment, albeit brief when the color of Radagon's hair shifted from red to blond. It reverted just as quickly and became another "normal."

"Papa? Can we go home?" Miquella asked.

Nothing more was said during their walk. It was only after they reached the inside of the palace that Miquella broke the silence.

"Do you think Malenia feels better?"

"Perhaps."

"Look! Papa look, her door is open."

Miquella let go of Radagon's hand and rushed for Malenia's room.

"Oh! My flower."

He spotted it on one of the small waist-high cabinets. Someone must have spotted it and placed it there to keep anyone from stepping on it.

"Malenia! Malenia!" cried Miquella. "Father and I took a walk and I want you to see all the things I found..."

But the moment he entered the room, Miquella paused when he was hit by the putred scent of rot and vomit. Malenia lay on the bed with blood-soaked bandages wrapped around each arm. Her face too was covered over but her mouth was twisted down into a frown. Her breathing was shallow like she struggled through the pain for each breath.

She wasn't awake. The perfumers merely forgot to close the door behind them.

Miquella placed the wilted Lilly on the table next to Malenia's bed and lowered his head.

Sweet Lily stood motionless, staring rigidly at the soulless corpse,

In her mute despair, she sought no help, for she knew no help.

-M. Maier, Atalanta fuiens, Oppenheim, 1618. (Roob, 343).