Estella Rose Lovegrove stood in front of the black, wooden caskets.

Holding her breath, she tried coming closer to them. She couldn't. She then tried reaching out. Her hand slowly raised, on its way to meet the cold wood, yet it stopped mid-air, as if something held her back. Some mysterious force, some strange energy.

A pressure on her chest made it hard to breathe, and the lack of sleep made her body shake under the weight of fatigue. Even so, her eyes were dry. She had tried crying, but no tears came to her bloodshot eyes. Not when she received the dreadful news. Not when she went into the destroyed throne room, a no man's land inside the castle. Not even when she saw the inert bodies of her sons, hollow shells of what once was, blood-stained and bearing the merciless wounds that took their lives away.

She knew those weren't her sons. It only took one look at their corpses to see it. Enlarged purple tongues that barely fit in their mouths; black, empty eyes that reflected the greatest sense of emptiness; engorged, blue veins that seemed to move even though there was no life left on them. She could have gagged. She wanted to. Her decorum prevented it.

As her eyes traced her sons' figures, she was forced to face the cruel and shameful truth. She felt no sadness at their deaths. She felt no happiness, either. No relief, no anger, no disbelief. Nothing at all. She was numb. Hard as she tried, she couldn't muster even the simplest of emotions. It was as if she was as empty as her sons.

The thought should depress her. It should make her rethink her decisions, her life choices. It should make her want to change. It didn't. Alone in this room, standing in front of her dead children, Estella had to admit she had officially given up. She had withered at last.

Perhaps, you have always been withered, a voice in her head said.

She shivered at the thought.

The sound of steps made her come out of her own thoughts. She didn't turn to see who it was; she really didn't care. She had been receiving visitors all day long, some to offer their condolences and others to inform her of the matters that still remained unfinished within the kingdom. She wasn't particularly interested in either at the moment, but she was still Queen. And a crown was a crown.

The voice that she heard was not the one she was expecting.

"Your Grace," Lady Livilla spoke in a shy, hushed whisper. "My heart is breaking. Is there anything you need? Can I do anything for you?"

Estella heard the words coming out of her mouth, but she didn't put any effort behind them. "Thank you. I can't really think of anything."

The woman approached her, like a deer fearful of the lion. "I... I don't really know what else to say, Your Grace."

Estella felt the poison rising through her body, making its way to her mouth. Yet, when it finally arrived, she had no use for it. There was no desire to hurt. As she turned around to see the woman's round face, her lips twisted into something akin to a smile when she saw Livilla's big eyes go wide with fright.

"Then don't say anything else, my dear Lady."

Her words, kinder that Livilla had expected, made the Lady release the sigh she had been holding in. Then, rather suddenly, the woman hugged her. Estella remained there, body rigid and eyes lost somewhere in the distance, the flowery smell of Livilla's perfume itching in her nose. Before she knew it, she was hugging the Lady. Even more surprising was the fact she was enjoying the comfort this simple act of kindness was providing her.

Look at you, the voice whispered. Have you gone soft?

Estella chose to ignore it.

********

"Your Grace? Your Grace?"

Estella turned to face the Minister. "I'm sorry? I must've dozed off. What's this about?"

The lights had dimmed in her Council Room. She had been there for the majority of the day, trying to make order out of the chaos that reigned over Makina.

In front of her, the Minister, an old, fragile-looking man, sat behind a tall stack of old, mistreated papers. Only two Actuators were present: Jonah Elton Graumon, who oversaw Makina's Foreign Affairs, and Emilia Ella Pimbleton, head of Arts and Culture.

The rest of the Actuators had perished during the throne room battle. Per the accounts of those who participated in the fight, four of them had tried attacking the crowd of noblemen and women who had gathered to bear witness to Raynard's trial. The Actuators, like the Princes, were said to have spat a blue, oil-like substance from their mouths, which caused severe burn wounds in at least thirty nobles, seventeen of which died within the hour; five died the following day, six remained in critical condition and only two had managed to recuperate.

Buford, still In shock, sat next to the Actuator of Arts, trying his best to process the large amount of information that was being said. His attitude wasn't surprising. He had always been the least intelligent of her four children.

What was unexpected was Lady Livilla's reaction to this whole situation. Abruptly finding herself in line to become Makina's new Queen, Livilla had grabbed the bull by the horns. She got involved as soon as the Minister began discussing the official succession matters, actively questioning and even challenging her future obligations.

Now, even after hours of debate, Livilla seemed as ready as ever. The fright and anxiousness hadn't left her face, but the woman seemed to be doing her best to set them aside and she was, for the most part, succeeding at it.

"It's quite alright, Your Grace," the old man said with a soft smile. "The necessary arrangements have been made regarding the fallen soldiers from the recent battle."

"What arrangements are those?" Lady Livilla straightened in her chair, looking alive.

"Well, Makinian tradition states that any soldier who might fall during battle shall be honoured by the Royal and SteelCorps in the Steel Dome. A life pension shall also be given to their families, under the condition that they never leave Makinian soil."

Estella heard herself asking. "This, of course, doesn't include those soldiers who supported my sons in their coup against the Crown, correct?"

The Minister nodded at once. "Indeed. Those men have been denounced by the RoyalCorps, their bodies burnt in the mass grave per the orders of Captain Batchelor."

"Good." Estella breathed a sigh of relief.

"And our army? How many losses have we sustained?" Livilla asked in hesitation.

"A great deal, Your Royal Highness." The Minister looked in the stack of papers for a few seconds, before taking out a large parchment, wrinkled from one too many uses. "Sixty-eight are deceased: Forty-seven perished during the throne room battle; of those, twenty-eight were working alongside the Princes. The eleven remaining died the following day, all presenting burn wounds far beyond what any of our Physicians had ever witnessed."

"That means thirty-two RoyalCorps remain in the city and are in optimal fighting condition," Estella concluded and the Minister nodded solemnly. "How many are there spread around Makina?"

"Five hundred spread around the Kingdom, Your Grace."

"Establish guard rotations. Assign a group of at least ten guards to protect my son and the Lady Livilla. Do the same for Princess Electa and the Viscount."

"What about the Marquise?" Livilla asked, making Estella laugh.

"If that woman has proven something, my dear Lady, is that she requires absolutely no help from any of us. She's perfectly capable of defending herself against anything. Besides, Shooter Viola is still in her service. Those two will have no problem."

"I hope you know that bitch will not get away so easily," Buford spoke for the first time in hours. "She knew something about my brothers'...illness, and she chose to keep it to herself. She lied to the Crown. She's just as guilty as them."

Estella rolled her eyes at her son's stupidity. "Did she try to kill me and the entirety of Makina's court? Did she plot against our family? Did she kill your father?"

"My brothers were sick!" Buford's fist crashed against the table, startling everyone. He stood up, his menacing frame casting a large shadow. "They weren't in their right mind. Something messed with them and that woman knows exactly what. She'll stand trial."

"On what basis?" The Actuator of Foreign Affairs asked, incredulity and curiosity fighting to win control over him.

Buford looked at him as if the answer was obvious. "Treason, of course! She actively chose to withhold vital information that could've prevented the bloodshed from three nights ago! She needs to come clean about everything she knows and I will not rest until she has." His eyes travelled the room, stopping on each and every face, as if he was expecting something from them. "She killed the Crown Prince! She killed eleven of the guards! She killed the Actuator of Power! Is no one asking how the fuck she did it? She's a fucking Marquise! She's not supposed to know how to fight!"

The room stayed silent. Estella admitted that Buford, for the first time, was making sense. Indeed, everyone who was present in that room was asking how in God's name was Arabella Phoebe Sparks capable of such carnage. Estella herself had been questioning the Marquise's true intentions ever since the young woman stepped foot on Ivoryport.

The boy does make a good point, the voice in her head whispered. The Marquise is a problem that should be dealt with.

Estella shook her head, trying to ignore the annoying little whisper. "You may be right. The Marquise's behaviours are odd and suspicious. I agree she needs to explain herself. I do not agree, however, with charging her with treason. There are no reasons to do so."

Buford almost spat in anger. "No reasons? She killed your children!"

"My children killed their father," Estella replied through pursed lips. "And they would've killed me."

Buford violently shook his head. "The bitch will stand trial. She committed regicide."

"Dear," Livilla spoke in a soft, understanding tone as she gently tried putting her hand on her husband's back, "I understand you're grief-stricken about the loss of your brothers. But blaming the Marquise is not the answer..."

"Shut up, Livilla!" He slapped her hand away, hurting her. Stepping away from the table, he rubbed his tired, brown eyes with his hands. He was beginning to look positively demented. "God al-fucking-mighty! What kind of fucking spell has she cast on you? We clearly said, we told her the Princes were to be imprisoned. And she killed them! She fucking killed them! WHY IS EVERYONE ACTING AS IF THIS WAS NORMAL?"

"Because it isn't!" This time, Estella too hit the table with considerable strength, surprising everyone, even herself. She sighed, trying to regain her composure, before addressing her son. "Buford, have you seen your brothers' bodies? Have you seen their tongues, their veins, their fucking eyes? Did you see them spitting that blue shit out of their mouths? Did you see them ripping the head of one of the guards with their own bloody hands?" She felt her voice cracking. "That was not normal, they were not normal! Whatever the Marquise did, it's clear she was right. There couldn't possibly be a cure for whatever Raynard and Edison and Hugo had. They, along with their followers, were savage. They behaved like beasts and they left a trail of carnage behind to prove it. There was no other way. "

Buford shot her a look of contempt that she was able to sustain for a few seconds. Then, he spoke in a low, menacing voice. "You will do as I command. I am the King."

She smiled involuntarily. "Not yet."

Estella didn't need to raise her voice to make her point. To the eyes of everyone, she was still Queen Regent, at least until Buford's coronation. The absence of sound made her almost capable of hearing the accelerated heartbeats of those around her.

Her eyes defied her son's and they both sunk in a stand-off. She didn't know why she was challenging her son this way, and for the Marquise of all people. This wasn't like her. Judging by the looks that were set on her, everyone thought the same.

She deserves to pay for her crimes, the voice in her head muttered. Why are you doing this? Listen to him. Why did your children had to die while she gets to live?

"No more shall be discussed about this particular matter," she said, standing up abruptly, prompting everyone else to mimic her.

"For now," Buford mumbled. She chose to ignore him.

"Captain Batchelor believes that many of my son's followers still remain hidden all around Makina. He believes retaliation will be imminent. Civil War might be upon us. This battle is everything but over."

Her words fell on the room like a rockslide. Makina hadn't seen a war in four hundred gears. Now, overnight, they had one on their doorstep.

"I think," she said as she walked away from the table and towards the door, "it's been enough for tonight. We shall continue in the morning. God knows we need some rest."

********

Estella faced her reflection. She had changed so much in these past few days. She looked at her hands. They were pale, feeble and shaky. Her frail figure, more delicate and minimal than ever, was beginning to look alarming. On the good side, there was no one left at Leverfort to judge her. No more gossip was exchanged in the halls, in between meals, behind cold smiles.

All nobles had fled away from the palace as soon as the battle was over. Like souls chased by the devil himself, all those men and women that had sworn allegiance to her had no qualms about leaving her behind. She understood perfectly. If she could, she too would run away from this place, leaving everything and everyone behind.

The cold breeze that came through the window made her turn her attention towards the window. Looking out, she saw none of the night life that usually characterized the capital. There were no taverns opened, no street shows happening. There were no lights twinkling on the streets, no shops selling overpriced memorabilia. No tourists out on late night strolls, no nobles cruising the wide streets aboard their carts. Even the cogs on the floor seemed old and rusty, as if time itself had stopped.

Ivoryport was dead, as much as it's King and Princes. As much as her.

The sound of the door opening brought her out of her thoughts. She turned to find the girl, holding a tray filled with fruit and pastries.

"All that for me?" Estella asked, forcing a smile on her face.

"I could help you. There's plenty for both." The girl mimicked her as she left the tray on the table near the door.

Over the past few days, the girl had grown more comfortable. She now spoke more freely and even had the will to make a joke every now and then. Since the throne room battle, Estella noticed another change in the girl's behaviour. With the threat of Raynard and his brothers gone, a giant weight had been lifted from the girl's shoulders. She now seemed calmer, freer. Happy, even.

The two sat in front of each other. Estella could tell the food was delicious; it certainly smelled that way. Yet her appetite was all but gone. She hadn't eaten anything for the past two days. Her body was certainly resenting the lack of food, but she couldn't bring herself to eat. In fact, the mere thought of chewing one of those pastries was enough to make her nauseated.

"I've been thinking," Estella said as she forced herself to eat one of the little cakes, "that after Buford's coronation, I shall have to rethink my way of life."

"How so?" The girl asked, filling her plate with grapes.

"Well, being Queen Mother is substantially different than being Queen. I'll have fewer responsibilities. More time to myself. I'll be needing more help to keep myself occupied."

The girl's face lit up. "It'll be nice to have some company."

"Since I'll have such a large crowd at my disposal, I think I'll be able to get by without you."

The girl stopped eating. Her face flushed and her eyes went wide with fear. She looked at Estella, who remained calm as she ate tiny bites of the disgustingly sweet cake. A long while went by, where nothing else was said. Estella had tried to speak with as much tact as she could, but she knew the girl would immediately fear for her life.

"Your Grace?" The girl finally asked, her voice soaked in doubt and dread.

Estella simpered. "Come on girl, don't make me say it out loud. You weren't meant to become my sole companion. You were always meant to be a distraction, a toy to play with. Now the game is over. You are free to go live your life as you please. My husband is no longer a threat to you. And neither am I."

Estella's attention went back to the cake, as the girl quietly took the news is. For a while, a long one, the night breeze and the fire cracking were the only two sounds that filled the room. When the girl finally opened her mouth again, her words took Estella by surprise.

"Thank you, Your Grace." She spoke with such gratitude that Estella was taken aback. Even after everything they had gone through, after all the torture and mistreatment, the girl had it in her to thank her and actually mean it.

"Yes, well, it's the only logical thing." Estella cleared her throat and feigned a smile she had no desire to sustain any longer than she had to. "Where will you go?"

The girl hesitated, playing with the grapes on her plate. "Where would you go?"

"Me?" Estella raised her eyebrows, confounded, "I don't know. I have never given it much thought."

She was lying, She knew exactly where she'd go had she been given the chance to decide her own fate. She wondered if she'd actually be capable of sharing it with the girl.

"Chroneast," she heard herself saying. "There's this small town in the province of Shizong. It lies next to a waterfall. Up in the mountains, surrounded by trees and earth. My father talked about it once. The sound of the water running in the distance. The sight of the canopy of trees in the hot spring days. The gentle melody of the summer breeze. The windmills in the distance. He said it was the most peaceful place he had ever been in. I can't think of anything better than a peaceful place."

Her eyes met the girl's and she discovered they were both crying. She felt foolish, weeping over a memory. Suddenly, she felt embarrassed. She hadn't shed a single tear for her children, but she cried over this? Nonsense. She rapidly wiped her face, trying to get rid of all trace of sadness.

"Anyway, someone young like yourself would probably want to go somewhere livelier."

The sudden warmth of the girl's hand startled her. She tried pulling back, but something didn't let her. Meeting the girl's eyes again, Estella felt a pleasant feeling in her chest. She felt at ease with the moment.

"Peace sounds great," the girl muttered.

What a strange little girl. It'll be a shame to see her go away.

For the first time in days, Estella agree with the voice.