End of the end.

[faded_lace]

Again. All is the same. This is the end.


“Algernon!” Perceval shrieked, throwing himself into Algernon’s office and turning, as fast as he could, to bolt the door shut as though the mob he’d just fought his way though were right behind him. He knew, however, as he turned back into the room, searching desperately for Algernon, that had they really been behind him, a simple lock wouldn’t be enough to hold back the hundreds of violently indignant Gallians who’d surrounded the military headquarters. The crowd was, in fact, sprinkled with and encouraged by a terrifying number of armed military officers themselves, and the whole group of them threatened to overwhelm the building at any moment. “Algernon,” Perceval sobbed, taking a few hesitant steps towards him, unsure of what he could say, of what explanation he could offer, and knowing only that he was prepared to do whatever Algernon deemed an appropriate response. The situation was dire, Perceval knew, but he was sure that Algernon knew exactly what should be done.

Algernon had known something was wrong for some time now; from his office, he heard the mob building, the angry citizens yelling and demanding, and, being realistic, he hadn't kept up his hopes for very long. He knew, sooner or later, that Perceval would arrive, and he knew what had to be done... but still, even sitting and thinking about it saddened him, and so, in the time that he waited, he straightened up his office, set his paperwork in order, did menial things that he knew he would never do again. He thought of burning the evidence, but what would be the point? There was no way such a hurried, haphazard, last minute act would save him, and now it didn't matter. And so, with everything tidied and organized, Algernon took his time deciding on a gun, cleaning it, placing it on his desk. It was a pearl-handled handgun, a gift from Perceval on their second anniversary, and Algernon was quite fond of it, half smiling to himself as he handled it.

He had just finished with it when the door was thrown open abruptly, and then there was Perceval in a hot mess. His face was flushed and tear-streaked, his hair clinging to his face in places and in disarray, his clothes rumpled and messy. It was almost unnerving, but Algernon was overwhelmed, more than anything, to comfort him and to calm him before going into the details of their imminent departure. Rising, he strode quickly across the room, pulling Perceval into his arms and stroking his hair, murmuring in his ear. "Shh... Percy... there's no need to cry. No one can harm you, I'm here... we'll be long gone before anyone gets here, so please don't cry." He held Perceval tightly, and, perhaps, it was only an excuse for him to hold on a little longer to the one possession he never thought he'd have to give away.

Perceval clung to Algernon, burying his face in his chest and trying his best to regain composure by focusing solely on Algernon’s melodious voice and soft touch. He owed it to Algernon, after all, to tell him what he’d seen, how he’d heard the royal cur spout such nonsense. She didn’t have proof. No one did. It was a misunderstanding. That’s what they could tell the people. And they loved Algernon…they would surely believe anything he told them.

“We…we’re leaving…?” Perceval managed with difficulty, looking into Algernon’s eyes tearfully. He didn’t want to have to run again…Perceval didn’t want Algernon to let go of him. He’d already pushed his way through the crowd once, and he knew he couldn’t stand to do it again. All the people—sloppy, unruly, misguided, and disgusting—all carelessly bumping into him; and Perceval couldn’t take the ridicule…the things they said about Algernon infuriated him. Had he heard them before, he would have sentenced people to death under court-martial, but not now—everything was out of control. “Algernon,” Perceval said weakly, his voice trembling, “I don’t think we can make it out with them like this…”

Algernon shook his head slowly, squeezing Perceval tighter for a moment before pulling back to look in his eyes. Wiping away his tears carefully with his thumb, he spoke softly, as if to a frightened child. "There are other ways to get out without leaving the building." Looking into Perceval's eyes a moment longer, he pulled him close again, not able to bear the eye contact when realization dawned. "It's the only way out..." he murmured against Perceval's ear, hoping against hope that he wouldn't be the cause of fresh tears. "I couldn't stand to see anything happen to you..."

“Wh-what do you mean?” Perceval asked, his fear inexplicably mounting. He held onto Algernon tightly, and as his gaze fell across the desk, where something iridescent flickered in the light and drew his eye. Resting carefully on the polished wood surface, perfectly cleaned and already cocked and loaded, was pistol he’d give Algernon on their second anniversary. Perceval knew now what method of escape Algernon was referring to, and as the realization dawned, he shook uncontrollably, practically clawing at Algernon and sobbing and gasping for breath. “You—you can’t mean—” Perceval cried, falling limply against Algernon, depending on him entirely for support. His legs felt weak and wobbled beneath him and his whole body quaked violently with each sob and gasp that came after it. Perceval had been too unprepared, too confident; he knew that Algernon was serious, he knew…he knew that it was their only real option… But he was afraid—terrified. “Algernon!” Perceval gasped, looking up at Algernon, still clinging to him for support. “Algernon, I—Algernon, I don’t want to die!”

Algernon felt his throat tighten, and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as he clutched Perceval to him, shaking his head. He had never felt this close to tears before, not naturally, not ever in his life, and he swallowed, trying to control himself. In this situation especially, he couldn't break, he had to be strong, for Perceval, if for nothing else. There was a knotting in his stomach, and in this strange, dire situation, another realization hit him: for the first time in his life, he was feeling guilt. He knew there was no other way now, but if it hadn't been for him... Perceval could have lived. Still, the feeling was short lived, because, as he cradled Perceval's shaking form against his own body, he knew that he would never give Perceval away, and no matter how hard it would be, he needed to be the one to pull the trigger to end Perceval's life. Perceval was his most beloved possession, and now, it seemed, strangely, the only one he had left.

Swallowing again, he did his best to soothe Perceval. "You know there's no other way out... you don't need to be frightened, it will all be over with soon, and you and I will be together again." Algernon didn't believe in any afterlife, but, he supposed, they'd be together in death. He meant to say something else placating, but as he opened his mouth, he was surprised to find other words that he had not planned coming out. "I'm sorry, Percy... You know I love you." He drew back, looking into Perceval's eyes with sincerity that only Perceval had ever seen. "Please... be brave, for me?"

“I…” Perceval whimpered, staring into Algernon’s eyes, transfixed by the emotion and the honesty he saw in them. If they could be together afterward…if it didn’t hurt… If Algernon was the one to do it, Perceval thought he could be brave. “Algernon…” Perceval shuddered, dropping back into Algernon’s arms, still shaking. “I’m so afraid…but I—I know you’ll…you’ll take care of me…” the tears were still streaming down his cheeks but he’d regained some control; and he managed to get back to his feet and look once again into Algernon’s eyes. “I love you… and if it’s you, Algernon, I…I can do it.”

Algernon nodded, squeezing Perceval tight a moment before placing a kiss on his lips and drawing back. Perceval looked terrified, and it all but broke Algernon's heart to look into his eyes. Taking his arm, Algernon drew him away from the door, leading him over to the sofa and sitting him down. "Come, Percy... you look so pale..." Sitting beside him, he gently wiped the tears from his cheeks before carefully combing through his hair, tangled and wet with tears, and pushing it back on his shoulders. It was so strange to see Perceval such a mess, and Algernon couldn't bear the thought of leaving him that way for eternity. Placing another soft kiss on his lips and placing his hands on his face, he looked into Perceval's eyes. "Please, Percy... don't be frightened. I promise I'll take care of you... and it's killing me to see you so afraid. Ten years ago, I told you I'd never hurt you again... you believe me, don't you?" Kissing him again, he hoped to ease some of the tension in those long limbs, in that slender body with which he had always been so enthralled. Now, with everything else stripped away, with minutes left in his life, Perceval was everything, the only thing that mattered, and Algernon wanted to do anything he could to assuage his fears before the end.

Perceval kissed back, holding onto Algernon with near-desperation. “Of course I believe you,” Perceval replied softly when Algernon gently pulled away. Perceval knew Algernon would never hurt him…that he would do everything he could to make it as easy as possible, but as hard as Perceval tried to convince himself to let go of his fear, he simply couldn’t shake the sense of terror and dread he associated with dying. But if it wouldn’t hurt…if he would be with Algernon at the end…and then again when it was all over… Perceval knew he had to have more confidence in Algernon. Algernon always did exactly what was right, and even though Perceval was afraid, he had no regrets. “I just wish…” Perceval looked down and slowly lifted a hand to Algernon’s, “…that we had more time.” He swallowed, struggling to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall once again. “I wanted everything for you, Algernon… you deserve so much.” Perceval looked up once again, and in spite of his best efforts, started crying again. “But I—Algernon, I’m so glad I was able to spend my life with you. I love you.”

Algernon smiled, touched by the sweet words, despite the situation. Drawing away, he retrieved the gun from his desk, running his hands over it for a moment, contemplating their final moments together. Returning to Perceval's side, he pulled him close again, relishing in the sound of his breath, the feel of his body, the sweet scent of his skin that Algernon had almost taken for granted for all these years. As Perceval began to cry again, he felt his heart wrench, and held him closer, setting the gun aside for a moment and stroking his hair comfortingly. "Come now, Percy... I know you can be brave. We won't be apart for long." He pressed a kiss to his cheek softly, then to his lips. "You know I've never wanted anyone but you, ever..." Kissing Perceval's neck, he nipped lightly, leaving one last red mark, before placing another kiss on his lips. Smiling half-heartedly, he explained: "So that you won't forget, while we're apart, that you're mine."

With a sigh, he then shifted, pushing Perceval's hair behind one ear before turning and getting hold of the gun once more. Looking at it for a moment, he looked up into Perceval's eyes again. "Are you ready, Percy?"

Perceval looked up from the gun as well, squeezing his eyes shut tightly for a moment as he nodded. It wouldn’t hurt. It would only be a moment before he was with Algernon again. They would be away from all those screaming people—far away. They would be happy. And he would be with Algernon forever. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked into Algernon’s, somehow holding the tears back. “I’m…I’m ready…” Perceval gulped and hesitantly moved his hand to Algernon’s, gripping it tightly. Then, slowly, he lifted his other hand to the mark that had formed on his neck and smiled softly. “I would never forget… I love you…and thank you.”

Algernon nodded. Holding Perceval close and squeezing his hand back, he looked into Perceval's eyes, those deep, beautiful green eyes which had so captivated him so long ago, one last time. "I'll be along shortly," he promised, finding himself wanting desperately to stall for time. But he knew he couldn't, he knew that this had to be the end, and so he took a deep breath, placing the gun against Perceval's head and pressing a final kiss to Perceval's lips. "I love you, Percy," he whispered one last time before he braced himself, and, without hesitation, pulled the trigger.

The noise was deafening, but even worse was the feeling of Perceval going limp in his arms. Algernon held back a choke and couldn't bear to look for a moment, couldn't bear to see what he had done. When he finally got a hold of himself, he drew away, taking a deep breath before turning back to Perceval. Eyes closed, he hung limply to one side, as if he were a doll that Algernon had discarded. It was a sickening thought; for all the people that Algernon has used, seeing Perceval in the same position was too much, and he wanted to be sick, just as he knew Perceval would have been if he had known how his hair was matted now, with blood and gore, and how his clothes were all getting stained. Closing his eyes for a moment, Algernon shook his hands idly before moving to rearrange Perceval on the sofa, sitting him upright, crossing his legs, folding his arms in his lap. Even if he was dead, Algernon knew that that was how he would want to be found.

With Perceval taken care of, Algernon suddenly found himself very, very alone. Stripped of everything he had ever possessed, there was simply nothing left for him. Blinking once, he strode around to sit behind his desk, gun in hand, and surveyed his office, in pristine condition. He felt almost as if he were leaving home, on a holiday, and everything had to be just so for when he returned. Rearranging his desk once more, he decided that everything met his standards, and, without flourish or hesitancy, he raised the gun and placed it against his head. There was nothing left for him here, so why wait? Stripped of his possessions, he was nothing, and perhaps... it was naive, really, but perhaps he would be with Perceval again. With that thought in mind, a small smile found its way to his lips, and it was in that moment that he very simply pulled the trigger.


They were almost at the docks before Donavan finally slowed his relentless pace. They’d overheard all kinds of rumors as they made their way through the city, working their way into the progressively poorer and more dangerous neighborhoods, and with every mention of the imminent disposal of the treacherous General Commandant and the restoration of the glorious Queen, Donavan’s resolve to relocate grow progressively stronger. The tides had changed. The deal with Algernon was off, and in fact, all relations with Algernon and Perceval were now effectively impossible. Donavan didn’t even know if the two would survive the people’s retaliation. He did know that if he and Faustino wanted any sort of peace, though, they were better off very far away, especially now that Dragomir had discovered his final non-Berceuse Malheureuse safe haven. Even the Berceuse Malheureuse, Donavan felt, was likely to be coming to an end. They had no reason to stay in Gallia any longer.

Slowing down at last, Donavan turned to his blood soaked arm where the bandage had come undone and began adjusting the soaked cloth in an effort to mitigate the flow, at least slightly. “I’ve always wanted to live in Albion,” Donavan said conversationally as he worked, in an effort to at least slightly prepare Faustino for what was coming. “I know this guy. He charters a ship across the channel. We’re going to see him now.” He looked up from his shoulder and flashed Faustino an apologetic smile.

Faustino was tired. His feet were tired from running, his arms tired from being pulled as Donavan led him farther and farther from anywhere he recognized, his lungs were tired from struggling to catch his breath as he was forced past his limits. He was physically tired and emotionally tired; everything that had happened, every up and down and up and down had taken a toll on his disposition and he felt now as if he could cry for no reason at all. The only thing that kept him going was Donavan, and as he slowed, Faustino slowed as well.

As Donavan began talking, Faustino did his best to listen, despite his quickly deteriorating condition. As he registered what Donavan was saying, however, his eyes widened and he paled, swallowing and trying desperately not to cry again. "We're going away forever, Donavan? But--but why?" He was trembling now, and he didn't want to lose it, but it was just so hard, now that he had given up on being a grown up and lost all of his strength. He knew Donavan would be angry with him, but he couldn't help it, and a tear rolled down his face as another thought hit him. "Wh-what about my mommy? I never got to even say goodbye..."

Donavan stopped walking at the mention of Faustino’s mother, but covered the slip by finishing up tying the bandage, as if it had been done on purpose. He then smiled at Faustino once again and gave his hand a light squeeze. “I know she’s fine. I heard from Perceval a while ago. Didn’t I tell you? She’s leaving the country, too, so you don’t need to worry about her.” Donavan started walking again, feeling privately guilty for lying but not letting it show on his face.

Faustino looked up at Donavan as he started to walk as well. "She's... she's okay?" Faustino bit his lip. It wasn't as if he had much of any other choice but to leave now, but he really did want to say goodbye to his mother, even for a second, since he would never be seeing her again. "Once we get... once we're in Albion, then... if I wrote her a letter... I wouldn't say where we were or anything, but if I wrote something, just to say goodbye... would you send it for me, Donavan?" If he could do that, then, he decided, it would be enough.

“Of course,” Donavan promised, lying so well he could have fooled himself. It hurt to lie to Faustino, but he knew it would be so much worse to tell the truth. “I think you’ll like Albion,” Donavan mentioned as they started walking again towards the peer where Donavan knew he’d find his friend. “I did a tour, once, to see all the plays. Albionian theater is really something.” He grinned and folded his arms to take the strain off of his injuries. “I’ll teach you the language—I’m sure you’ll pick it up very fast. You’re so good at everything you do, Faustino.”

Somehow, making light small talk seemed the most comfortable way to gloss over the mother-topic. Hopefully Faustino didn’t think he was evading. “Once we’re out of here…” Donavan said slowly, after a minute or so of silence, “We’ll have a lot less to deal with. It’ll be just you and me.” He smiled down and Faustino gently and uncrossed his arms, taking Faustino’s hand into his own once again. “I love you, Faustino. And I’ll take care of you. It’ll be fun, don’t you think?”

Thus placated, Faustino managed a smile and nodded. The thought of Donavan taking care of him—of having so much of the responsibility off of his shoulders—was really very enticing, and at Donavan's complement, he couldn't help but grin. It would be almost like the old days, just the two of them together, with no worries. Squeezing Donavan's hand, he smiled up at him with a nod. "I think so—I won't be afraid. I love you so much, Donavan." After all, if he was with Donavan, he was sure he would be all right.


Dragomir trudged angrily down the hall to the room where he’d left Niles. His revenge—the one contribution to Julian’s mourning that he felt he could make—had not been carried out. In essence, he’d failed. Killing Donavan wouldn’t have just been for Julian, though, it would have been for all three of them. Donavan should have died so many times for all the people he’d hurt, but now he was gone, and for some reason, Dragomir felt like he was really gone. “I’m back,” Dragomir mumbled, taking off the belt that held his holsters and his sword and dropping it onto the floor as he walked slowly to where Niles sat dressed in black with a book in his lap. “He got away.” Dragomir sighed, sliding into the seat next to Niles and leaning against him slightly to be comforted. “He had Esparanza with him, too… I’m sorry.”

Niles let out a sigh of relief when he noticed Dragomir return, alive and well. Firstly and foremostly, he had been worrying about Dragomir's safety, and had ended up in such a state of nervous distress that he forced himself to get up and to dress, once again taking out his black mourning clothes. In this state, he hardly felt the urge to dress up, anyway, and he had a feeling he'd be needing to order more black clothes in the future... But right now, he needed something to distract his attention, anything, and so he had grabbed a novel and tried his hardest to read, tried his hardest not to think about Julian or Donavan D'Aubigne or Dragomir fighting. It worked to some degree, but when Dragomir returned, he was still relieved, nonetheless.

However, Dragomir came bearing bad news, and Niles wilted slightly at the information. "Oh..." he managed softly, looking down at his lap for a moment in disappointment. But still, revenge wouldn't have brought Julian back to life, and Dragomir appeared to be relatively uninjured from the fight. Really, he had lost nothing, and so he rested his head against Dragomir's with a little sigh. "Don't worry, Dragomir. If you're here with me, if you're alive and well... that's enough." He offered a small smile, feeling a little better already. He had Dragomir, and that was what mattered.

“I’m glad…” Dragomir sighed once more, biting his lip and looking down at the book whose title he couldn’t read. “Idiot climbed out a third story window to run.” Dragomir commented wryly, sliding his hand around Niles’s waist for reassurance. “I can’t believe he broke that boy out of prison, though… I think we ought to tell the Lt. Colonel and check on her and the Queen…”

Dragomir's arm around his waist was comforting, and Niles felt his tension ease further. Now that he had come to terms with the fact that Julian was dead... he was really beginning to feel a lot more normal, if not better. He was grateful that he still has Dragomir, and he would mourn Julian properly. Life would go on.

At Dragomir's next comment, Niles turned at him and looked for a moment, torn. Going to find the Lt. Colonel meant going back to where Julian was killed, back to the palace... but Dragomir was right. It was their duty to go back to their commanding officer, and besides, it was important to find out what was going on. Nodding, he rose, standing in front of his vanity to fix his hair back with a black ribbon and sliding into unadorned black shoes before moving back to Dragomir's side, taking his hand. Even now, after calming down, he still didn't want to be left alone, especially so soon after Dragomir had come back.


It felt strange to be driving back to the palace. It seemed like it had only been a few hours earlier that they’d driven with Julian for their meeting with the Queen, and yet, so much had happened. So much had changed. Julian was gone. The Commandant’s plan had been unraveled and he would be brought to justice. The only loose end was Donavan, and it was their duty to report him to their superior officer.

They arrived at the palace and retraced their steps to the throne room in a haze, allowing palace guards to direct them though the expansive building until they found themselves before the Queen, who was seated, with the Lt. Colonel standing at her side. “Your Majesty, Lt. Colonel,” Dragomir bowed twice, awkwardly. Even though they’d helped figure out the plot against the Queen, he didn’t feel as if they’d really done much when it really came down to it. Julian had made the sacrifice, and the Lt. Colonel had saved the day.

Corinne nodded to her subordinates as they each bowed. "Hirlea... Christian... how are you both faring? Better, I hope?" The last time she has seen them, Christian was unconscious and Hirlea was carrying him, along with Kaiser's body... but she didn't want to think about it. "I'm told you have important information?"

Niles nodded again respectfully. "I'm doing much better, sir, thank you," he responded quietly, but waited for Dragomir to elaborate further and hung at his side, wishing he could hold onto his hand again, for support.

“Yes, sir.” Dragomir nodded. “As I’m sure you know, Esparanza escaped—I saw him with Donavan D’Aubgine. It appears they’d been using the D’Aubigne residence as a safe house…but I don’t think they’ll be back, now that we know.” He bowed again after he’d finished and waited patiently, feeling that they’d fulfilled their duty.

Corinne nodded slowly, registering the information. Esparanza was once more with D'Aubigne, and on the move... but now that the Commandant wasn't around to help them anymore... At that point, Corinne realized that Hirlea and Christian probably weren't aware of the most recent news and so she cleared her voice. "Thank you, Hirlea... as you may know, the General Commandant and General Rousseau were found dead in the Commandant's office, both with a single bullet wound to the head." She waited a moment, to let those words sink in, before adding, "I don't think D'Aubigne will have an easy time finding somewhere safe to go for some time."

Niles' eyes widened at this new information, and he couldn't stifle a small gasp. "Were they—murdered?!" He couldn't believe that someone would be so angered as to—but maybe? The amount of people whom he knew who were now dead was steadily increasing, and it was making him feel faint.

Corinne shook her head in response to Christian's naïveté. "Suicide. The Commandant had the gun in his hand, and it matched the caliber of the bullet which killed General Rousseau, as well."

Dragomir blinked, the words still sinking in. “Really?” he asked stupidly, though he wasn’t actually expecting an answer. He just would never have thought it would all be over, so entirely, so quickly… But it was another burden off of their shoulders. Niles would never again be forced to spend time with the Commandant, and the General would never so falsely and scathingly address them. And Donavan would have nowhere to hide. “Shot the General, then killed himself…?” Dragomir repeated. “You’re right, though. Donavan is out of options. We may need to investigate Laurent D’Aubigne, however, sir.”

Corinne nodded. "That's a good idea. Once everything is settled and sorted out... which may be in a while... but then we'll get on it right away." She smiled at Hirlea, then to Christian. "But for now, I think both of you deserve to take a break. If it hadn't been for you two, Esparanza might have gotten away with it, and Donavan would still be on the loose. So go home now, and I'll see you both at work bright and early tomorrow, all right?" Looking over the two of them, she couldn't help but smile wider. She knew it was her job not to get involved, but it seemed that over the past year or so, Hirlea and Christian had become her favourite subordinates. Right now, with Hirlea looking so tired and defeated, and Christian looking so sullen and depressed, she didn't want anything from them but a full recovery, and though that was against the rules, she couldn't bring herself to care. "Feel better, both of you, okay?"

“Yes sir, thank you.” Dragomir smiled, bowing gratefully. As he straightened, he turned to Niles and nodded in the direction of the door. “See you tomorrow, sir,” Dragomir called as the two of the turned, heading out into the hall. Once out of sight, Dragomir took Niles’s hand in his discreetly and gave it a light squeeze. Julian was gone, Donavan had escaped—his revenge had failed. But he still had Niles, and soon things would be right with the country, thanks to their fluke discovery. It was an odd situation, really, but he and Niles were still together, and would always be together, and that was all that really mattered to Dragomir.

Niles couldn't help but smile softly as he felt Dragomir's hand close around his own, and as they stepped outside into the bright morning sunlight, he leaned against Dragomir slightly. Slowly but surely, it seemed, his sadness was evaporating, and though he knew he wasn't happy, he knew things were going to be all right. Somehow, strangely, inadvertently, he and Dragomir had saved the country, he, who had been ridiculed and tossed aside so many times before as useless and worthless. He had proved his former superiors wrong, proved the General Commandant wrong, proved Donavan D'Aubigne wrong-- he, in the end, had won. There was a strange swelling feeling in his chest, and tingling sensation, and as he broke away from Dragomir to the driver's side of the automobile, there was a new confidence in his stride which surprised him. It was like being reborn, like seeing life in the light of a new day. Though Julian was gone, Niles would see to it that he was not forgotten, and, of course, Niles still had Dragomir, who had taught him love and self respect and who had saved him from himself. Together, Niles knew, they'd pull through, they'd make it. And so, with a confident smile to Dragomir that reflected the morning in brightness, he turned on the engine and, together, they started off into a new day.

A smile twitched on Corinne's lips as she watched her men walk away, half laughing to herself. "They'll be all right."

"What's that, Corinne?" She glanced down to see the queen, curiosity on her features, a maturity in her eyes that Corinne hadn't noticed there before. The frightened child Corinne had comforted through the night was gone now, and Corinne smiled at the woman seated beside her.

"Those two. I just think they'll be all right."

The queen smiled. "They seemed sweet. Still, do you think they can take care of themselves?" Boys will be boys, she seemed to be implying, and Corinne laughed.

"Well, they're certainly not the brightest of their peers, nor the most extraordinary at their jobs, but I've watched them grow for a year now, and it seems to me that, even if they're the most average people you'd ever meet, they can take care of themselves."

"I see."

By now, the hustle and bustle of the palace guards and officials had finally died down, and Corinne and Cecile remained in silence for a few moments, reflecting. Now that there was no longer a secret to be kept, the curtains were drawn back and the morning light was filtering through the wide windows, illuminating the room, giving it a new warmth that Corinne had not seen in it before. The sun danced over Cecile's pale skin, her hair, her features, giving her a healthy glow, and Corinne smiled. Turning away from her queen, she looked out the window across the lawn and into the blue sky, and she realized now, things were going to change. They had survived the night, this was the morning, this was the dawn of a new day.