Alecto had been arguing with Tiche. Though he did not understand why as he'd have thought she would be ecstatic to see her mother. The hand-maiden had swept her daughter into her arms with frantic tears. Their reunion had left Owain feeling rather rather conflicted, as had all his interactions with Alecto of late. He'd made great effort to behave as he normally would, however, as he did not wish to cause conflict on his dwindling leave. Tiche and Oswald had left for Leyndell a few days prior, much to Alecto's dismay. He'd asked Os to check upon Melina and Morgott, as he worried for them.

His sisters were quite close to Alecto and were elated to see her after so many years apart. His parents as well, doted on her. Her vaguely panicked expression at being treated so well would have amused him had circumstances been different. Even Ranni had taken to her, though Owain had no idea when that friendship had begun.

Despite the easy air within the house, still was Owain careful. One slip of his tongue would wreak chaos. Should mother discover it was Alecto's hand that had slain Owain, he did not think he could stop mother from killing her in her wrath. Even should Alecto fight back…mother had bested father many times. His aunt had taught him spearmanship, but his mother had trained him in the ways of the sword. She was infamously skilled at fencing. No, it was better that he pretended all was peaceful and ignored the discomforting feeling in his chest.

It was the last day of his sojourn and he'd yet to even leave his bed. Owain sat, elbows to knees, and stared at the wall. Goddess, he did not wish to go back to work. He heard Ranni's husky chuckle the next room over, then Loreley's high pitched cackle. He sighed. If he stayed any longer, he was sure things would begin to fall apart. At least he would see the runes from his spirit for a short while. He rose to his feet with a low groan, rubbing at his shoulders. Duty called, ever and always.

Father bore the rune of binding with expected stolidity. Hardly more than a grunt of discomfort as he took a knee. Ranni's hands lingered upon his back worriedly for a moment, but he waved her off as he took Owain's offer of aid in standing. "No trifling weight, Wain. Three of these thou beareth?" That same weight had had Owain had been laid low for hours! Perhaps the act of empowering the rune held greater backlash?

Owain laughed breathily, feeling rather weightless at the loss of a shard. "It is not a thing I'd recommend."

"I wouldst see such weight for mineself, nephew." his aunt clasped him on the shoulder.

Turonus blood was clear in her, lengthy hair of light gold and a perennially scowling brow. It was amusing to him that his sisters took after mother so closely in appearance.

"Art thou ready, Wain?" Ranni asked, hand to his chest. The light that streamed through mother's large kitchen windows lit her hair with lustrous shine, he smiled at his own distraction.

Owain straightened, shaking out his shoulders. To lose a rune was child's play to gaining one, "Aye." he sighed as Radahn's rune was coaxed from him.

His aunt grimaced as the rune passed to her. Siluria swayed on her feet for a moment before planting her stance and shaking her head, "Hah! Hywel, dost one rune make ye struggle? Take care not to tarnish the reputation of our house, little brother." She moved to clap father on the shoulder.

Father crossed arms over chest, "Perhaps thou'rt just beastly. Or maphap it is thy advanced yea-"

She clapped him over the head, "Hardly ten years betwixt us and still ye whine."

Mother barged betwixt the two to stand before Ranni. "Aye aye, yer both knightly and sturdy. One last rune and one last heart to bear it, boy. Come Ranni, give it unte me."

His princess hesitated and they met eyes, "Mama…" he trailed off.

Mother jabbed a finger in his chest, bright eyes flashing in warning, "Ye think I canae bear the scorch, pup? Bold and brash and unwise, Owain."

"I would only warn you of the shards' effects on…temper." his father's smile at this predicament was not helpful.

Mother threw her hands up, "Temper! The smoothest of seas am I! Such sass, thy father's doin' I am sure." Father stiffened at her glare. Owain sighed, nodding to Ranni. Lila Turonus was of fierce danger and fiercer will, she should bear a rune without too great of difficulty.

"Mother?" Ranni cringed as mother rounded on her, for once it was her being corrected, instead of him, he smiled. Ranni cleared her throat, "M-mama, I am ready, if thou art."

As the last of the runes were taken from him, tears sprung from his eyes. Silence! Blessed, sacred, silence at last! He stumbled before his aunt and father steadied him at either side. He waved away Ranni's anxious eyes as he righted himself, she would strain should she hold the rune for too long.

Ranni pressed the shard to mother's chest carefully, only to jump at her exclamation, "Marika's tits!" Owain scowled, "'Pologies, dear. Doth they always…whisper?" She blinked rapidly, making an expression of distaste.

Owain nodded, chuckling, "When holding the three it is more of a scream." Truly, he felt as light as air! He felt joyous and kind and calm! What bliss this was!

"Me poor boy." mother crooned, patting him on the cheek, "Mama'll keep all these shards safe fer ye a good while. Enjoyeth thy respite."

Father nodded, "They art safe with us, mine son." Siluria grinned, nodding as well.

Owain grinned, "I have no doubt. I've sent a few more sentinels to guard the area whilst I am gone, just in case."

"A few-" Mother sputtered, "Yer horse lord's are so plentiful I can scarce see mine fields, boy!"

His family laughed and Owain breathed easily for the first time since taking up that cursed rune. His smile died upon his lips as Ranni loosed a shuddering gasp and flew outside. Owain followed without thought, catching her just below the stoop of mother's porch. His eyes followed the line of her gaze, towards the inner walls of the capital.

A blizzard, the largest he'd ever seen, broiled in the sky. The elation he'd felt only moments ago was dashed, even he could feel the source of this storm. Ranni's panicked hands took his, "Mother."

Court was so quiet now, it was lovely. Morgott smiled as he watched the lords and ladies calmly debate the latest development project for the Mid-Altus plains. Not even two years passed this would have been a shouting match of petulant aristocrats. Not now though, now they knew their place. It reminded him of mother's court, of when he would perform his duties as second prince.

They once more respected the throne and he was no longer forced to bear interruption or belittlement. Morgott had purified his blood, had banished the largest of their reasons for scorn. Owain had done the rest, the threat of highlord's wrath had the nobility standing in line obediently. Morgott had ever tried to be diplomatic, to take the higher road. He'd been so exhausted trying to hold the lands together. Perhaps he should have simply thrown a few of the troublesome lords down the stairs. Lord Orlo's flight had done wonders for managing the assembly's behavior, though he was sure the lord would disagree. Reginald had found new confidence as well, and was doing an excellent job of keeping order.

Morgott still did not desire the throne, but it had become…more bearable. He had not discussed it with Wain yet, but he hoped mother would be freed and all would be as it was. He hoped father would be elden lord anew, he prayed his brothers, especially Mohg, would be safely seen home and hearty and the Golden Order could be fully repaired. It seemed things were at last going his way, though he was cautious in such thinking, wary that this tentative dream could yet slip from his new fingers of smooth skin. He refocused on the court proceedings.

He should have known that as soon as he allowed himself to relax, some new catastrophe would strike. There was still air and fluttering leaves, then there was a storm. The winds and cold, the battering howl of a monstrous gale, the boom of chilled thunder. In a blink of his tired eyes, a wrathful blizzard had formed. Morgott knew its source and it greatly worried him, for why was the air so tinged with the Full Moon Queen's mana? Why did he feel the nexus of this raging magic nearing him?

Melina entered mama's chambers anxiously, nodding to Alecto as she passed and shut the door. "Mother…is what the prophets have said true?"

Mama was reclined on a couch, ordered papers in disinterested hands, her glowing eyes looked upon Melina curiously, "To which spouted flotsam dost thee refer, daughter?"

Melina wrung her hands, suddenly struck by indecision, she disliked trying to seek a straight answer from her mother, the queen almost always spoke in riddles. It was if she were being purposefully obtuse, "That the Erd Tree…that it will burn." She matched mama's gaze, trying to be brave.

Mama rose from her seat, leaving her papers and coming to lay her hands atop Melina's shoulders. Her voice was gentle, her smile warm, "When a forest burns, doth thou knoweth what happens to the soil?"

"Mother?" She scrunched her nose, she did not know what answer mama was trying to lead her towards.

The queen tucked a curled finger beneath Melina's chin, brushing her bangs from her face with her free hand, "It is enriched by the ash, primed for new life. Full of needed vitality that wouldst not be there, lest the fire forced it."

The princess frowned. Then, Mama was saying Melina was meant to burn the tree? "Then…the fire, you would not hate the fire?"

"I wouldst not hate mine daughter." Mama's lips were warm against her brow, her arms gentle as they enfolded Melina in a careful embrace.

"Is it my purpose to burn, mother?" Melina murmured into her mother's chest, afraid of the answer.

Mama reared back, eyes a rising sear, "Purpose, fate; a cage is a cage is a cage, nameth them so!" Mama was so spirited today. It was odd, sometimes she seemed an entirely different woman. Freer words, dangerous words, would she utter. As if she were finally able to speak her mind.

Melina reached out, fingers grasping Mama's dress in tight fists, "Is it my cage to burn? Is this fire of mine that you sealed, that which will engulf the tree? Please, mother! I must know!"

A complicated expression flashed across mama's face, Melina was unsure of what it denoted, "I sealed? My will? Thy purpose is to burn, but must thee be consumed? Thou art-thou were to be kindling, child. Was it I who ordained such a thing? Divinity is but the brightest of glittering cages. I'll not see thy wings so clipped as mine, precious girl." Mama gasped, then barked a short laugh, "Hah! Deaf to mine words art thou?" Mama looked away, as if addressing someone else. Melina shuddered, there was no one else with them. "Perhaps I have a moment of freedom, mayhaps I am more clever than I thought. Outrused! Outwitted! Puppets made to mind me, against such sterling shine as mine own bulwark, they shalt fail!" Mama's eyes were wide, her smile straining too wide. She rained kisses down on Melina's head with breathless laughter, "Seekest not thy purpose from me, my heart. Make thy fate or break it, I tell thee only what that thing has tried to force, I tell thee-"

It was as if someone had snatched mama's words right from her throat. She bared her teeth with a snarl, then her face became placid and slack, "M-mother!" Melina leaned forward, worried hands finding her mother's cheeks, "Mama, are you-"

Mama stepped away from her, the gold of her eyes was no longer warm, it flashed now a cold brass. No emotion did Melina see on mama's face, nor hear in her voice, "Away, child." the queen intoned, waving a hand to splay the doors open.

Melina surged up from her bed with a cry. It had to returned to her at last, the elusive memory of her purpose. Her dreams had been so cruel of late, showing such kindness from her mother. Remembered grace, recalled care and love and tending within the very walls in which she now sat. Melina's face crumbled and she brought her palm's to her eyes. It was not fair! She'd spent so long bereft, to have it all now crash against her felt like she was losing who she'd become on her long journey of watching.

The years had made her cool, the long nights of lost rights had sterned her temper and offered wisdom. Her new flesh was rousing her old mind. The new heat of a beating heart was thawing the ice of her lost destiny and it gifted her only growing grief. She knew now why she'd been burned by that man. He'd meant to postpone the prophecy of fire, however futile. Foolish old codger, stupid weasel! Her's was not the only sinful flame, her hands not the only ones capable of sparking a cardinal affront. She could only assume the effort was to snuff out the divine power of her flesh, as any finger maiden could serve as kindling for the giant's forge. She was flame, but without a body her spirit would be needed to ignite the tree. She could sense it.

Her tears were unwanted but priceless. That she could feel them was a gift, but it burned her why she shed them. It was becoming clearer to her as each day passed, something had been contorting mama as the most dangerous of puppets. Something had lurked there through every vulnerable conversation, passed every gentle kiss and just beyond the breath of every tender whisper, something had watched within eyes of gold and listened and plotted. Mama had thought herself untouchable behind Owain's shield and spotless service, she'd become complacent in the surety of his safety and it had cost Melina her original body.

Melina had been a warning against mama's arrogance, but from what? Melina had been a plot to delay the inevitable, but who had used that man to see her from Mama's side? There was too much she did not know! Too much she'd ye to recall, even at the foot of the Erd Tree. It was infuriating. She missed Messmer, she missed mama. She missed her father as well but…her memories of him were always tinted in sadness. He was not hers to have, he did not wish to be there. Even as he showed her tender love and careful joy, she knew she was not his true pride; even if he never spoke the words.

She shuffled out of bed laggardly. Therolina aided her in her morning ablutions and Vargrum went silently to her shoulder as she exited her quarters. So too did too many sentinels to count. Owain's overbearance would have been tiresome if not for the four separate attempts by godskins to breach the palace in the short time he'd been gone to his mother's farm. They must have waited for him to depart, fearing his presence after Gelmir. She was sure he'd have a conniption as soon as he heard the news at his return.

It was the most deadly of his order that guarded her every step, the mightiest of the elder sentinels, the most powerful of Reginald's draconic knights. Oswald himself had taken the room right beside hers when he had returned to the palace with Tiche days prior. Melina was still afraid. She was frustrated and confused but mostly afraid, why did the godskins seek her out with such fervor? Her brooding saw her steps all the way to the smallest of royal dining rooms.

Breakfast with Morgott always cheered her. He enjoyed asking her opinion on matters of state and it made her feel helpful. All of her elder brothers were quite protective of her, but Morgott offered a unique sense of safety, gentle and constant. Godwyn had long been lord of Stormveil by the time of her birth, so she was not quite as close to him. Mogh had dealt with…his own troubles, so she tried not to burden him. Messmer was a fierce protector, of course, but there was a darkness in him that was roused when she was endangered that she was…apprehensive of. Morgott was much more similar to Owain's steady warmth and regality.

Melina spent the rest of the day idling about. She'd yet to reacclimate to the ways of the palace. After such a long harrowing, it was surreal to be waited upon hand and foot. Mama's library was a safe place for her, secluded and secure. It too was full of memories, of her past, but the contented memories did not always sting and she was glad to have them. She'd been working her way through the collection of texts, but had yet to find anything that offered a new perspective on her mother.

Melina dropped the book she read to her lap in surprise as icy winds blew the shutters of the warm room wide. Startlement had her cowering in an armchair even as Friso and his serjeants clattered through the door to shield her on all sides. Why was this storm so soaked in the Lunar Queen's magic? Why did she feel the brutal force of it nearing the palace?

Rennala felt rather ashamed. She'd fled the manor as soon as she'd roused Rykard. She'd ignored his questions and Tanith's pleas, she'd rushed by Radahn; Rykard's eyes had been too sweet, his smile too soft. It was only- should he look upon her with the innocence and wonder of his youth, she knew it would make her feel as a monster. Rennala was changed, greatly changed, from the woman she'd been. She could not bear his questions nor his hopeful suggestions; Rykard had been such an optimistic child, and optimism rankled her at the moment.

She walked the streets of the golden city and tried vainly to keep the thought of her husband from her mind. Her emotions were much too high for this foolishness yet it seemed she could not help but reminisce. They'd spent time here. He'd treated her to his favorite places, he'd graced her with gifts and foods and jewels, toured her all across this massive city to deep familiarity.

The clang and clanking of a hundred knights of the tree made her attempts at calming herself fair rather poorly, but she could hardly banish them from her side. The citizens watched her with open terror even with the sentinels guarding her, should she strike out on her own she was sure she'd spark a true panic. At least Moongrum and Linde were a small silver buffer to her golden tenders.

Moongrum acted odd whensoever they went on these walks of hers. Perhaps he was worried she would slip into an episode, but he was more vocal than usual on the matter of which streets she should take. Rennala cared little, her steps only serving as a small function to distract herself. She had been doing quite well, considering. Hardly any lapses in her senses, hardly any outbursts of mania. Rennala was trying her utmost to set a good example for Ranni.

Linde had spent the last few minutes updating Moongrum on the current state of Caria, their low background chatter was soothing to the frazzled queen. It was Linde's distractions that had most likely allowed Rennala's steps to lead her to where she now halted, face stoney. Afore her stood a large statue of Radagon. The long procession of sentinels at her back tensed, Linde's hand found Rennala's shoulder, Moongrum cursed under his breath.

His voice was soft and regretful, "Forgive me, my lady, I had not wished for you to see this. Come, let us-"

Rennala waved him away, distracted. "What odd magic lieth upon this statue." she mused as she walked to the base of it. A poor likeness of her beloved's face watched her with solemnity.

"My lady?" Linde sounded so nervous, silly girl, there was nought to fear. Rennala would not be unmade by the mere sight of her gilded flame.

The queen frowned, "The sculptor didst shoddy service, none of my husband's beauty, all of his sorrow." She laid a hand atop the statue's base, startling at the still active illusion spell she found.

A sentinel, Aldo, she thought, strode forward, "Great queen, would you like to return to the palace?" It was good he bowed his head when daring to question her, she would have sneered at him if not for this strange magic.

Rennala flowed rearward a few paces, the knights at her back scrambling away, "What…odd…magic." she breathed. For some reason, she felt the faintest brush of Radagon's mana atop the spell. Her heart lurched in her chest.

The sculptor was no sorcerer it seemed. Incantations were not her specialty but one so weak as this would be easily dispelled by brute force. With a careless flick of her wrist, she waved away the illusion. Three words blared behind her eyes as her husband's form was supplanted by Marika's.

RADAGON IS MARIKA

Rennala forgot how to breathe. Moments long discarded rushed past her whirling mind as the most cutting of winds. Each and every odd idiosyncrasy betwixt golden queen and her golden consort bared but a little more of Rennala's panicking soul. They smiled the same, held the same dimples. The queen tilted her face in the same manner as Radagon when he laughed. They both held fork and knife at identical angles. The way they paused between thoughts, the manner in which they frowned when posed a challenging question. Rennala could remember all these things, but she could remember how to breathe.

"M-my lady?" Linde's voice was breathless and scared and irritating, could she not see Rennala was in the midst of dreadful realization?

How had she never noticed? Why had she ever discarded such strange similarities? Radagon's eyes were the very same shade of gold as Marika's, brighter even than Owain's, than Godwyn's. His nose was a twin to the queen's, the style they wove their braids a perfect match. Their handwriting was nigh identical. Rennala could feel her magic slipping from her tight control, but as smoke through desperate fingers, she could not seem to grasp it. Through the haze of swarming recollections, she saw her knights forced to a knee. Rennala frowned, trying to compose herself even as she was breaking apart, even as she could not breathe. A heaving gasp at last ripped through her spiraling, a memory forcing its way afore her roving eyes.

"It is amusing, Marika." Rennala placed her winning piece upon its square. That made two victories in a row now.

Marika furrowed her brow, the action making Rennala think of her husband, they made a similar expression of frustration. How funny! The queen's golden eyes flicked up as she at last realized her defeat, "What is, Rennala?"

Rennala began resetting the board, wanting to play another round. Marika was always a challenge, "Radagon plays so similarly to thee, didst thou teach him this game?"

"Doth he?" she seemed startled, was it such an odd question? Marika fiddled with her braids, it was always entertaining when she acted nervous during their visits to the capital. Rennala enjoyed flustering the usually stoic queen, "No I…I didst not teach him, perhaps it thy influence."

"Aha, thou flatterest me! I so enjoy these games of ours, Marika." Rennala grinned.

"As do I, Rennala." Marika's smile was smaller, but no less warm.

When had Rennala fallen to her knees? She clasped shaking hands to aching skull, her- Blind! She had been so blind! Blind and stupid and love-sotted. A simpering maiden unwilling to question. A breathless scream tore from her, though it was lost in the roaring winds. Her carian knights, the sentinels all, lay unmoving on the golden cobblestones. Golden! Marika! Liar! Radagon was-a liar- was Marika! Her dragging nails drew blood.

Her magic would not heed her, her mind would-not-stop. Too analytical for her own health. Even unwanted, still it continued to weave the strands of her lover's lies into a tapestry whole. "Thou dost not comprehendst, I am- That canst not happen! I am the golden order, I-" his words echoed passed her sobbing. He'd been so close to revealing his secret! That had- they'd just married! That had been millennia ago! She snarled. She must cleave magic to mind! She must stop this slipping! Such a display was disgraceful!

What a queen she was, writhing upon the dusty street. What a queen she was, what a tantrum she threw that saw this golden city engulfed in ice and lunar snow. Wirra, her mind would not stop its working, her magic would not stop raging. Rennala wailed at the blizzard of her misery, she wept, a heartbroken wretch. Radagon was Marika all along! Rennala was an imbecile! She had been so arrogant to Ranni, she'd dared to pretend that no one would make her the fool. How idiotic! How pathetic she was! Her laugh was coaxed from her billowing chest, a manic, heaving thing.

Rennala of the Full Moon, Rennala of the empty head! She was the fool, expertly beguiled and masterful pirouetted by puppetted husband and scheming queen. All her centuries of love and adoration, for what? She'd bourn Radagon's children, she'd bourn Marika's children! A broodmare was she? For the queen's purposes? For a goddess' sake was her life unknowingly lived?

Her close friendship with Marika, all their talks and all their games, hushed murmurs and comforting hands. Secrets she'd thought shared, trust she'd thought shared, love she'd thought shone. It was not Radagon's betrayal alone that had broken her, lo, so too was it Marika's. Wirra, Rennala could not find her feet, her eyes could not find the sky. All she knew was the staining, choking ink of her own madness and the melancholy of her torment. It would not release her.

As she screamed, so too did the storm. How could he? How could she? Why had they professed love with one breath and betrayed her the next? Was she not the greatest of all witches? Could she not have aided them in this grand machination of theirs? Could she not have smote whatever it was that haunted them? Her mana serrated her ever more harshly as it fled her grip, but she would do nothing now. She lay limp upon the street, gaze opened but no light received. Even as she hated them both, she still desperately loved them. Rennala was not a creature of wrath, not truly, but a woman of great love and too great forgiveness. Could not her love have seen them through?

All this suffering she'd lived, she had not needed to! All this bewilderment and spinning unknowing, she had not needed to bear it at all! If only they had lain bare their nature! If only she had seen through their veils. Why- a wet nose pushed against her cheek and her mania hitched.

Rennala's blood stained hands found the snout of her ever-cherished hound. Relios. A gift from her husband, a lingering protection. She laughed weakly as her loyal companion licked the tears from her face. "Oh beloved, didst thee come to mama's aid?" she whispered, choking back more tears. A fool she was, aye, but answers would she have. A terrible clarity was upon her. Clear and sizzling, heart and mind aligned in one supreme demand. Answers. She wrapped trembling arms around her hound, kissing him sweetly as he aided her to standing and lowered himself to allow her a sprawling perch atop his back.

The storm above broke ever so slightly, her magic at last listening to her exhausted spirit. Ranni would have sensed her outburst, Rennala was sure as soon as her magic dispersed enough to allow translocation, the princess would come to her side. She would need to hurry afore her little moon attempted to dissuade her from her course. "To thy father's tree, Relios. Questions have I, answers seeketh I." Rennala slumped atop her hound's neck. Focusing only on returning this storm to the heart that had unleashed it. Radagon had always named her his better half, but was she not an untrusted third instead?