They say that dynasties aren’t built in a day then why do they forget that they can fall in a day? Ever since she was an infant Hera had had the destiny of a dynasty placed on her shoulders. It was absurd, honestly, her great grandmother had already given up their true power. Then why must she suffer through all these publicities and ceremonies just for a throne that held no power? A crown without a jewel. 

New Aquinia was a land of peace, freedom, destiny, dreams and everything one could ask for. It bore the name of her ancestors. The Line of Aquinia tracing back to Quinn the Warrior. The world owed its prosperity to her family! And yet they deny her power? Outrageous. 

Hera stood in front of the large glass wall and placed her hand on it, she looked at the shimmering lights of the opulent districts that surrounded the crown jewel of the city, nay the country, the imperial palace that housed the royal family. “Royal Family” is laughable really, but not for long. She had thrown her money behind the most disastrous candidate the city had ever seen. 

Samael was a dangerous man, as Hera had come to see, he was a red flag but he had charisma he had charm. What Hera was hoping for was a cult of personality to cruise him to power. He would desecrate everything this country stood for. He would destroy all that these dozens of generations had built brick by brick and when they revolt? Hera would be right there to seize power. 

She let out a sigh as she heard the door open. “My dear?” The soft voice cooed out to her. She lifted her hand from the glass and placed it on her own cheek. She felt the scales that marked her as part Pisari, a mark of dignity, of power. Of political sway, sway she would use to- 

She felt a hand on her own and turned in the grasp of it and found herself looking into eyes a shimmering gold. Like the reflection of the sun in a pool of water. The eyes of an angel, she felt her breath on her face, “Penny, you’re late.” Hera melted into her touch. Her eyes went soft as she caressed the raven hair of Penelope, it fell by her back like the wings of a bird. How Hera longed to put her precious Penelope in a cage and never have her bear witness to the atrocities that the world had to offer. Alas, how could she clip the wings of the one she loved the most? 

“I was just having a talk with Ser Barris, he told me what you did!” Gods help Hera, the look on Penny’s face was enough to satisfy the hours she spent pulling strings to get her the position of- “He told me you got me the role at the New Year’s party!” 

“Yes well, the position of the Reformer fell through and I pulled a few strings” She cupped Penelope’s face, her hair bundling between Hera’s hands and Penelope’s face, “You’ll do well, your voice is more beautiful than a thousand wailing sirens.” She kissed Penelope, trying her hardest not to let her hunger through, “My beautiful songbird” 

Penelope was blushing hard now. Truth was, Hera had gotten her this exact position to see her songbird dolled in the scales of the Aquinia family, “You know how I adore the Reformer.” Penelope laughed at this before snidely remarking, “I’ve heard you go on enough rants about her.” Penelope cleared her throat and put on her best impression of Hera, “Honestly, my parents! They set me up to be ‘The Peaceful’! Make a thousand eras of peace! Gods above, Penny I’d rather be ‘The Reformer’, I’m not built for peace, you know this. An insul-” 

Hera cupped Penelope’s mouth, “Yes Penny, I understand” Penelope giggled against Hera’s hand before pulling the hand from her face and into her grip and leading her to the door. Hera didn’t notice, she was too sucked into the laugh, “Come now Hera, you know I’d listen to you speak for a thousand days without break.” 

Hera barely dared to breathe, maybe she didn’t need to reform if she could only sustain this peace with Penelope. 

Everyone was congratulating Penelope on the role. She had only Hera to thank for that. She loved Hera a lot. Penelope spent the night attached to Hera at the hip while Hera spoke with the High lines of the Nation. The Royal family had a largely ceremonial position but due to the push back Hera had been forcing these past few years she had gained a largely administrative position in the government. Penelope knew that Hera wouldn’t stop at this. 

Penelope knew a lot of people would get hurt because of this and, truth be told, she did not care? It wasn’t that Penelope didn’t value life, it was just that she didn’t care what it cost for Hera to be satisfied. Penelope had a tendency to just go along with anything Hera wanted, people assumed it was because Penelope was an airhead who didn’t understand the world. It wasn’t. She understood that unnaturally large amounts of what Hera did were equivalent to unfathomable losses of life. Penelope understood it all and did not care. 

Penelope squeezed Hera’s arm as she finally returned to her side after fetching her fourth glass of champagne in the last hour, “Ah, Lord Clint, you know Penelope.” Penelope curtisied before replying, “My Lord, I am Penelope Clementine of the Line of Clementine” Lord Clementine chuckled before replying, “My Lady, there is no need for such formality. I’ve known you since you were but an infant. Still attached to Her Highness I see.” He looked between Penelope and Hera, “Well, I always did think you were an excellent pair, like the Conqueror and Lord Darius all over again.” 

Penelope was happy, she always loved how people doted on the two of them. Penelope had loved Hera since they were children. The High Line children all knew each other, the endless banquets and political discussions had always forced the children together. Thankfully, Hera had taken a liking to Penelope and made them inseparable. All the better for it, when her family had planned to retreat to Clementine shortly after Penelope’s tenth birthday Hera had begged her mother not to let that happen and so it hadn’t. Penelope had been taken into the royal family as a ward for a summer and never left. 

“....and the attacks were taken off. So thankfully Clintstown will remain open for business all by Your Highness’ grace!” 

“No need, no need, Lord Clint you have been more than thankful! Those spices were amazing” Personally, Penelope thought the spices were rather dull, “Ah, we really must be speaking to my cousins from Jamestown.” 

“Yes! Yes! Do not let me hold you up, Your Highness.” 

Penelope followed Hera as they went up to Simon. Penelope didn’t like Simon, he was always far too much a nuisance. His line had begun from Princess Milicent, he didn’t have the radiant features of the Pisari that her darling Hera had. Penelope never thought of the Aquina-Jamestown folk as royalty but she could be coy for Hera. 

“Your Highness” Samael’s voice always reminded Penelope of a yarnball, a thousand strands that no one could track, “Ah I see” He looked down at Penelope, “Still clinging to my dear cousin.” 

Hera glared at Samael, “Samael.” Her voice carried a warning tone shaking Simon to look at Hera rather than Penelope, “Let’s talk business, shall we? We are short for time.” 

Samael gave a glance to Penelope, “With her here?” 

“We have no secrets.” 

Penelope could almost beam with happiness. Samael spoke, “An odd relationship indeed. Your funding has been highly beneficial. The Campaign is ready. The Lords; Trinidade, Darron, and Dallius seem to be siding with me. That bastard Damon has the traitors of Darronstown, Elmsworth, Silentwood, Shacklesbay, that fat Lord Clint and your songbird’s father Lord Clementine has stayed his hand.” 

Penelope didn’t like how he spoke of Lord Clint. He had always been nice to Penelope. Of course, Hera had told Penelope’s father to stay his hand with Samael. Not to join or to oppose. 

“All in all, it is good to have your support cousin. We can finally rid our nation of those fleabags. The Khyli and the Chatines have rotted our nation's core for too long. The commonfolk are loving me, I can do no wrong.” 

Hera laughed shrilly, “Samael, be careful, don’t fly too close to the sun. Damon has a strong hand, besides, I am more worried about his right hand.” 

Samael shook, “That hag Rhaeos? I offered her to join me but she declined. It’s always a loss when a person joins those fleabags. The world would be better off if they all just went back to where they come from.” He looked at Penelope now, “Isn’t that right songbird?” When Hera called Penelope a songbird she could almost explode with joy. Not so much when Samael did it. 

“I don’t sing for you.” Penelope glared at him but he only laughed. 

“Always the ferocity. We’ll be family soon the way you eat from my cousin’s hand don’t you think family should get along? Hm, Songbird?” It was almost as if he knew how she felt when he called her songbird. 

Penelope straggled off to get more drinks. She had downed two by the time Hera found her, drinking her sorrows away in the dressing room reserved for the royal family. Penelope wasn’t permitted there by law but the only time someone tried to enforce it. She shuddered at the memory. An angry Hera wasn’t something Penelope saw often despite her only coming out at an insult for Penelope.

“Darling…” 

“I don’t like him. He’s a bigot” 

“No one likes him” Hera pushed herself against Penelope’s back and held her hand. Penelope felt small drops of blood in her hand and looked down. “Hera…” Penelope breathed out. 

“Not my blood. It’s Samael’s. I popped his vein” Hera replied, gripping Penelope’s hand as she nuzzled backwards against Hera, “It’s only a matter of time before I stab him in the back darling, you know this. Can you wait just a little bit for me, my love?” 

She certainly could.