Guinevere wrestled with many thoughts, the battalion sent from Longshore city was of inadequate quality. This was not nearly enough to welcome a great king like her brother, they lacked in many aspects that proved more frustrating than the last. There was inexperience in their ranks, nor were enough knights of good quality present. Most of the soldiers were far too preoccupied in their gawking of her brother than their duty to escort them. She understood quite possibly none of them had ever laid eyes on a Stygian much less the ruler of them all, but she expected more. Worse yet the four spies sent to observe them from a great distance were spotted by herself, Melina and Ursula with ease. So far her opinion of the soldiers of Talterra was not as high as she had hoped. They left much to be desired. This could not have been the best that they had to offer, and that angered her even more. Why would they send such unworthy soldiers to escort her brother? To the young general it was nothing more than an insult. Already the games had begun.

She sought to give herself some reprieve from the thoughts of such inefficiency, instead turning her attention to the landscape in front of her. Talterra mirrored Iliad in many ways, open fields that stretched on for miles on end. But unlike her home, there were no great mountains or towering trees in the distance. These lands looked to be tilled and prepared for farming. The ever growing need of humanity to convert the world around them for their purpose was a curious one that she found herself interested in. She knew how quickly human cities grew in the south, thrice as fast as any in the north. More people meant, more land and that meant more conflict. Even after a century she could still see the signs of war etched into the lands. Grass and flowers had done their best to cover the craters that dotted the landscape but not enough time had fully passed. These were the lands that her father once walked upon. She found sadness in that he would never have the opportunity to see how the ground he so fiercely fought to protect now were covered in lush green and vibrant colors.

The young Stygian turned her gaze to the night sky. The luminosity of the stars above reminded her of the same stars in her brother's hair and she could not help but smile. From the edge of her vision, a small butterfly flapped its wings into focus. At first she thought it a Blue-moon Butterfly sent to give her word. But the closer she examined it the less she believed it was. It glowed softly in the night sky similar to the legendary butterflies but not as intensely. It looked to have been made entirely out of ice, the fragile creature appeared as though it would shatter easily at a mere touch. She extended her hand trying to grab it and then another appeared, and then another, and several more followed. Until there was a torrent of tiny butterflies sculpted out of ice swarming her.

The sensation relaxed her and eventually made her laugh.

"It amazes me that despite being king you are still so childish." Guinevere turned her head towards the man next to her.

Antares leaned on the tree, "Please little sister, I will never grow out of my childishness when it comes to you." His smile was brighter than the moon itself.

Antares twirled around in front of her, elegantly waving his hands through the air. In kind the frosted butterflies responded to his commands and danced around him. He was mesmerizing under moon light. He moved to the rhythm of music that only he could hear. The butterflies flowed around him, enamored by his movements just like her. The monarch king was a divine being in her eyes, his every action beautiful to her. She would never tire looking at him. When he was done with his little show, he pretended to stumble and landed on Guinevere's lap.

"What are you doing?" Guinevere blushed.

"It seems I have fallen and I cannot rise," the king declared with certainty.

She brushed his hair from his face with a smile. It had been years since they shared time a moment like this, oftentimes this is how he would announce his presence to her. The Butterfly Prince is what she used to call him but now he was a monarch, her king. A namely aptly earned for his skill with creating such intricate and delicate frost butterflies to appease her and her siblings. It seemed that each time she was alone with him, the depth of how she missed him so grew with each passing second. There was so much of how she felt about their home, about him and what transpired leading to his exile that she forced herself to ignore. She was forced to grow quickly to harden herself. However now as he lay on her lap that hardness was allowed to soften. The quietness between them filled her with so much emotion it nearly brought her to tears. Her big brother was here, and she was safe.

"What troubles you dearest sister of mine?" Antares raised his tender hand and caressed the side of her cheek. Catching a single teardrop escaping her eye.

Guinevere nuzzled her face into his hand, embracing the cool sensation of his touch. She remembered the way it made her feel. "That my king may be drunk," she teased.

"I have barely had anything to drink. It should be Casspien you should worry about." Antares stated, of them all it was the Lord Regent who struggled the most with his wine.

"Do I need to remind you all those wines are a gift to Talterra not for you to drink. There will be plenty of that later on."

Antares chuckled, "Melina was right, you are sulking."

Guinevere narrowed her eyebrows, "I heard her you know, and I do not sulk!" she recalled the many times she had this conversation with her closest friends. "Besides, who do you think I learned it from?" she said looking into her brother's eyes.

"...Father?"

They both laughed at the remark.

"Speaking of him," Antares continued. He turned his gaze to the open fields in front of them. "What do you think about walking the same lands the great King Barranagan Xerxes traversed over a century ago? This is sacred ground." He mimicked the tone sagatellers used when they retold famed stories.

"I find it hard to be moved by grass and flowers. Maybe if there were a few monuments or something of note to remember." She looked out to the field looking for anything of importance and not finding it.

"That you are right dear sister. You know they say, his battle was so great these lands were bathed with fire that ran like rivers."

Guinevere recalled the tales spoken of about their father. The legendary duel he engaged in with the mad emperor, Dixoeyes. A battle so great that many parts of Talterra had yet to fully recover from the aftermath. She struggled to marry the version of the father she knew with the one spoken about as legend. There was much of him she did not know, much of it because she was too afraid to ask him. Of the little she was told and learned on her own, he was the fiercest warrior the nine realms had seen in thousands of years. Perhaps not seen since the days of Empress Xerxia Xerxes or of God-King Gilgamesh Xerxes himself. Such an honor was something that she could scarcely believe. But whenever she looked into the tired eyes of her father, behind the fading sunset and the pain. She found herself believing in the stories of his greatness. That rather than it being an exaggeration, they did not fully recall just how great he truly was. As she lay here with her brother on her lap, she chose to believe in those stories far more than she normally would.

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"So what truly troubles you, little Guinevere?"

Iliad's youngest general bit her lower lip, unsure if she should speak her mind but looking into the violet, golden eyes of her king she found the strength to do so. "I do not like how they are treating you." It was freeing to admit the truth, "It is the first time in a century the Stygian King has journeyed this far south. They send a mere three hundred soldiers as escorts and four spies to watch you?"

Antares laughed at the annoyance of his sister, "That is all?" he enjoyed how much she cared for him. "We journey with a thousand soldiers from our home, three Stygian knights and if you exclude myself; two Lords of War." He smiled the ever soft smile she loved, "We arrive with enough for a war, do not fault them too much. And as for the spies they sent seven not four."

"Seven?"

Antares nodded, he cupped her chin with his hands and steered her head in several directions. "There is one there, there and here." He had no need to look in the direction of the spies. He along with Casspien and Typhon had noted their presence the moment they arrived within Talterra.

Guinevere strained her eyes in the dark to see, only managing to make out one of the three.

"The four spies are not even aware of the other three. An interesting maneuver," there was admiration in the king's voice. "The four are of lesser quality to draw your attention, while the three are the true spies meant to observe."

Such underhanded tactics annoyed her.

"All this to say dearest sister, I believe they are more terrified of us than you think."

Therein lay the issue for Guinevere. She could see how all involved, be it the nobles, her soldiers or even the Terran soldiers themselves looked. There was an air of unease that hung across the camp. None were comfortable with each other and what tomorrow and the subsequent days would bring. In her eyes not enough time had passed between the north and the south for such an event to occur. It was only just recently that she was recalled from her conflict from Hightower against the Nephilim. And now she was meant to drink with those who allied themselves against her realm, against her brother. Most trifling of all, that a witch would become her queen. She did not know if she had it within her to stomach such a reality. It were times like these she wished Anastasia were here to take her place, her younger sister was more adept at such deceitful tactics. However the thought of leaving Antares alone with her caused her great concern.

"Be that as it may, I still think they need to show you more respect. Especially given you plan to marry their witch princess."

Antares perked up, "Oh?" finally he was getting to the true reason for his sister's sour mood. "Is the famed General Guinevere jealous of a little princess?"

She would never admit it to him but she was, "Of course not!" she turned her blushed face away, looking for something in the distance to catch her attention. "I only mean to say they need to be thanking you."

The king chuckled, "I have not made my decision yet on Princess Reza." He reassured her of his thoughts, which calmed her. "Truthfully I have been more preoccupied with other things."

"Like Faye?"

Antares smiled a painful smile, "Among other things…" he left it at that.

Even after all these years Guinevere had still not fully accepted that Freyja Stormborne would not be the Queen of Iliad and the Stygians. Far more importantly, that she would not be her brother's wife. For much of her life she had believed their union was destined like the rising sun. A marriage that was meant to change the nature of all their lives. She had grown up viewing Faye as an older sister, as a protector, as the only other woman capable of understanding the complexity that was her brother. All of that disappeared in a mere moment once Antares was exiled. To return to find her belonging to another.

No matter how often she refused to think about it, or of the very few times she spoke to Faye after his exile. She could not understand why all of this had happened, why Antares had slayed Nykolas. The news of that had broken so many of them, Faye and Anastasia most of all. Guinevere would not dare ask the truth of what happened between two Lords of War. She could see it on her brother's face, the pain of that day forever etched into his eyes. If not even her own father could tell her the true reason for exiling his son, she could not bring herself to ask Antares himself. She was far more terrified the truth would break her, or much worse–it would drive Antares away from her forever.

This journey south looked to open old wounds that had never healed properly, all she desired was to wrap herself around her brother and keep him safe. That is what she did, she brought him closer to her and hoped the warmth from within her would remind him that he was not alone. That he was loved. Whatever it was that waited for them in the oldest city of the humans, they would face it together. Even if Faye was no longer with them, she would never leave his side.

"What was that for?" Antares asked softly.

Guinevere's face reddened, "Never mind that, I have a request." A smile crossed her face.

"I am here to serve you Crown Princess Guinevere."

Guinevere looked up to the stars, the stunning constellations glowed with power. "Tell me a story."

It had been half a decade since they both sat underneath the night sky like this. Antares thought back to the earliest time they did; it was one of the first nights he had returned from his ritual to become a Lord of War. At a mere fifteen, he was transformed into a being that stood at the pinnacle of their people. Back in those days, his relationship with Guinevere had only just begun to take root. To him all he could recall at the time was that she was his little sister that had trouble sleeping.

Regularly Guinevere would find herself awake throughout the night wandering the halls of Castle Xerxes. At the time she was but a little girl, like many Stygians that young ,sleep was something they had to learn to do every night. Stygians could go days, weeks even without rest their fantastical bodies required very little rest to operate. In Guinevere's case it had been three weeks without so much as a wink. Her nightly strolls had become a habit that had allowed the young princess to explore her home.

Antares recalled how one cool night similar to this very night they shared, she happened upon him on one of the many balconies of their home. He was lost in thought about many things like he always seemed to be. She was far too scared of him at the time to disturb him but once he noticed her he called her over. She sheepishly made her way to where he sat and they spoke for some time. Guinevere was far more mesmerized by the beauty of her brother back then–forgetting much of her troubles that a mere ten year old girl had–as he talked to her about many things. As the conversation carried on to her difficulty sleeping, he motioned for her to rest her head on his lap. She blushed a red as bright as her hair but she did as she was told.

Antares told her to look up at the stars and she turned her gaze to the cosmos above. Slowly but surely he began to speak of the varying stars and a myriad of stories. The first time Guinevere had heard them she was enamored by the richness of the tale. Stories of legendary Stygian warriors across the ages and their famed triumphs over those who threatened to harm the realm. Her eyes growing heavy with every new tale. Soon after their nightly rendezvous became a habit one that she looked forward to. Guinevere realized that her brother had fictitiously crafted some of these tales as a means to entertain her. Mixing in real stories with ones he conjured, always kept her engaged, the lengths he always took to please her was a trait of his she was always grateful for. She found comfort in his words, in his presence and tonight was just like those nights from long ago.

Antares nodded with the softest of smiles and turned his head towards the stars. "As you wish my little sister."

Guinevere stroked his hair as the stories flowed from his lips. She leaned back fully against the tree and listened intently. Since leaving Akkad, she had not had a good night's rest. Her mind was too preoccupied with the dangers that they would face, but for tonight at least all of that would change. She allowed herself this little reprieve. Guinevere Xerxes dozed off to the loving voice of her big brother.

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