When Jovine was a young girl, she would often hide in a closet to cry after being berated by her mother for falling short of her expectations or when she felt the constant ache of isolation as she sunk under the shadows of her three brothers. 

In that small, dark space, she cried until her tears ran dry and the sadness subsided to a numbing throb. Then, she would open the door, wipe her dried tears off, and smile. 

No matter how much she wanted to rage, she grew familiar with the suffocation of sealing it all in a little box inside, where she tucked it away safely to be opened when she was in her ‘closet.’ 

So, in the mess of the Palace Halls, with the castle staff and her ladies staring in bewilderment at the changed Prince, Jovine dusted herself off and stood. 

“You heard His Majesty. Tend to the wounded, treat those who need to be looked after, and let us clear away the mess,” she announced. 

When silence answered her, she exhaled a breath in resignation, and started picking up the debris of shattered glass around her feet. At her movements, the Palace came to life with people crying out in protest at her careless handling of the jagged shards of glass but at her wave of dismissal, they reluctantly rushed back to their posts to return the Palace to a state of order. 

“Are you alright, Your Highness?” Lady Margaret asked hesitantly among the growing bustle. 

Jovine hastily threw the wreckage in a spare sack someone had handed her. “I’m fine,” she muttered distractedly. 

But, she was far from fine. She wanted nothing more than to hide herself away from the eyes of those who had just watched her husband rebuke her. Except, now was no time for her to break. She had her duties, and she would adhere to them.

Richard is mourning, she kept reminding herself. He’s hurt and lashing out.

Despite her own attempts to convince herself, however, she couldn’t stop the onslaught of anxiety consuming her mind. What had happened in Mallory to change the Prince so drastically? What was the truth behind the death of the Emperor? Why did a sudden trembling come to visit Theolos, and how could Richard fail to acknowledge it? 

With endless thoughts racing through her head, she pushed herself through the pounding ache in her body and dealt with the Palace affairs. 

After checking on the wounded and confirming the well-being of the citizens outside the Palace, the maid she had sent to check on the condition of Empress Helene came rushing back to her with news. 

“Your Highness,” the maid said breathlessly. “Her Majesty wishes to see you immediately.” 

Jovine set down the reports she had received on the state of the city past the Palace walls. “Is Her Majesty still very unwell?” 

“The Royal Physician has assured us that she will be fine,” the maid replied. “But, Her Majesty has requested your presence.” 

Jovine nodded, and after exchanging a few more words with Lord Maximus, the Royal Secretary overlooking the damages from the quake, she made her way to the Empress’s Palace. 

When she arrived, she found it to be unusually quiet and scarce. Without a single Court Lady there to announce her, she raised a hand to knock on the door. 

“Come in,” a distant voice called from within. 

Jovine entered the drawing room, the creak of the door echoing through the dark night. All the lights were extinguished and a cold draft brought chills to shiver down her spine. The large expanse of the suite was too quiet, as her footsteps sounded loudly in the silence. 

Walking towards the cracked door of the bedroom, Jovine felt uneasy. The last time she was in here, she had been dismissed by the Empress for her insistence at the prolonged absence of the Emperor and his son. And now, the Emperor was dead and Richard was… 

She didn’t know what he was. Not yet. 

Once she entered the room, she saw the Empress sitting on the edge of the bed, facing the open balcony doors that waved its wind-blown curtains through the shine of the white moonlight. There were small items still left on the floor from the trembles, but nothing seemed to be in a concerning state. 

At her arrival, the Empress turned to look at Jovine, and the hollow look in her red eyes hinted at the crushing pain she must have been enduring from the agony of losing her husband. Jovine bowed in greeting at the frail Empress before her. 

To her great surprise, Empress Helene received her with a gentle smile. “Come here, my child,” she said calmly, gesturing to her side by the bed. 

As she sat beside her, the Empress took her hand in her own cold ones and looked at her with a touch of affection. “Jovine,” she started. “I am so sorry.” 

Jovine widened her eyes at the words. “Your Majesty, why should you possibly be sorry towards me?” 

The Empress looked down with a sad smile, holding her hand with a small pat. “There are so many things I am sorry for towards you. The despair you must have been going through, how alone you must have felt. Words will never be enough to soothe the affliction that is still to come.” 

Unwelcome tears sprang into her eyes and her lips quivered dangerously, threatening to break the dam of tears waiting to be unleashed. “Your Majesty,” Jovine whispered in a quivering voice. 

At the first drop of sorrow, Empress Helene brushed it away with an expression of remorse. Jovine couldn’t understand how she could be the one being comforted. She could see the pure heartbreak in the Empress's eyes, yet she was here sharing her benevolence. 

Jovine grasped onto her hand. “Please accept my heartfelt condolences, Your Majesty. The Emperor was a kind, fair ruler who embraced me into this family, and his death —” 

“Shhh,” the Empress soothed, bringing her into an embrace. “No need to speak more on it, dear. It will all be better soon.” 

Jovine nodded, hoping her words were true. 

“Jovine,” the Empress said in a faraway voice. 

“Yes, Your Majesty?” she replied, sniffing away the last of her tears. 

“Don’t give up on him.” 

"Your Majesty?"

Helene leaned back and stared at her in earnest. “The road ahead is steep. And, I know you feel left in the dark. But, don’t give up on my son. He needs you to bring him back.” 

Jovine frowned in confusion. There seemed to be so many things left unsaid to unravel the true meaning behind her words. 

Before she could ask, Helene continued on. “I also need you to understand that I was wrong before. You have every right to be asking for answers. You are a strong leader, child. Don’t forget who you are and where you come from. In the face of injustice, rage against it with shameless fury.” 

"I don't understand..."

The Empress smiled in sympathy, stroking her hair affectionately. “It will all come back to you one day. One where all this nonsense will become clear. Now, go get some sleep. You have worked hard tonight, and the Empire owes you for it. Maximus will take care of the rest, so leave your troubles behind for tomorrow.” 

“No, I am here for you, Your Majesty,” she objected, but the Empress insisted, dismissing Jovine to retire. 

With one last embrace, Jovine bid the Empress goodnight, and moved to reluctantly leave. Before she exited, however, she looked back once more to see the Empress clutch a portrait of the deceased Emperor in her hands, bringing it to rest atop her heart as she looked out at the balcony in somber sorrow. 

Under the glaring moonlight, Empress Helene was the image of regal heartbreak as the breeze and shine enclosed her in her mourning. 

----

At the click of the door sounding Princess Jovine’s exit, Helene de Tristaine closed her eyes and let one last tear escape. For her dead husband. For her hardened son. And for the Princess who would soon face tragedy. 

Standing along with the beckoning breeze, Helene walked towards the open balcony, taking in the twinkling starlight and the city beyond that buzzed with life. 

Alexander always loved this particular view of the night sky against the city of his people. They had ended several days on this very site, looking over their growing Empire as they embraced under the watching stars. 

But, she lacked the warmth of his arms around her now. She could no longer hear the rumble of his laugh vibrate against her back or feel the heat of his lips whisper words of love against her smiling face. 

Looking down at the picture of her beloved, she called out to him. 

“I’m coming, my love. I’m coming to you.” 

Then, without hesitation, Empress Helene threw herself off the towering balcony and soared down to her imminent death.