The ceremony was irregular. Blessing royal children and sacrifices to determine their future were standard. In this case, the irregularities had to do with who was missing, which happened to be the child's mother. The queen was in attendance, looking stoic, as the babe being honored was not hers. Not only was this child illegitimate, but the baby girl was the only child the king had. A bastard set to inherit a kingdom, and to make matters worse, a bastard whispered to be of divine origin.

    King Briseus had strayed from the marriage bed. A common enough thing for kings to do. What really rubbed salt in Queen Vhasti's wound was that she'd been unable to give the king any children during their fifteen year marriage. As the girl was half divine, there was no mother Vhasti could have banished or make disappear entirely.    

    Vhasti's nostrils flared as the king announced what the name of the child would be — Briseis. Similar enough to his to be ego stroking, but it was the meaning of the name which set Vhasti's teeth on edge. Loosely translated into the main dialect of the Troad the child's name meant fulfillment.

    "My King." The priest of Apollo entered the room quickly and with a sour look. He carried a wooden bowl with a dead dove in it. "The entrails are not auspicious and more than that, something unusual is present." 

    "Stop speaking in riddles." The King rapidly waved his hand toward the priest, a sign of irritation. Briseus winced as the movement aggravated his recent injury. The King had returned from his rendezvous with the child sleeping peacefully in the next room, lacking three fingers on his right hand. He'd forbidden anyone to ask what happened to his hand and thus the matter was shut.

    "The omens speak of a destructive time, a lowering in status, taming of a wild beast, and then the omens split. This child is burdened with a dual fate. One is just as likely as the other. Having been born under a black sun, this child is unlikely to bring prosperity to the kingdom of Pedasus." A heavy silence filled the room. Thankfully, the King had kept this blessing ceremony small, with only his most trusted advisor, the queen, and a few select others allowed entrance.     

    "What details of the dual fate?" Vhasti asked. 

    "I can't tell. The omens aren't clear," the priest shot a nervous glance at the King. Briseus was well known for having little patience with messengers of the gods. If it was true his daughter was part divine, the priest couldn't fathom which goddess had produced her. King Briseus was often critical of the Olympians in private. The gods saw everything, yet Briseus never suffered any of the horrific fates others did for speaking out. Curious, but it had to mean at least one, and a powerful one at that, looked on him with a favorable eye.   

     "The dual fate of my daughter is never to be mentioned," Briseus decreed. "To utter one word of this prophecy shall be treason from this moment on!"

    Nervous looks passed between those present as the king rubbed the palm of his mangled hand while looking in the direction of his sleeping daughter. A howling wind tore through the nursery, and without obvious cause, the dove in the bowl caught fire. It happened so quickly the sleeve of the priest's robe also went up. Crying out, he tried to smother the flame and with his flailing knocked over the ceremonial bowl. Several guards rushed forward to help but were too late.

    A crack rang through the room as the bowl split in half on contact with the stone floor.

    As the priest fell to the ground, his arm still alight, a vision flashed before his eyes. He was in a palace, a palace he'd never seen before. He floated above a balcony overlooking an oddly silent city.

    No, that was wrong. The city wasn't silent. A strange rhythmic banging came from far off. It was muffled by the distance but clearly there. His perspective turned, and he was facing a different direction. From this new view, he observed the wall which encircled the city. The sturdy gates of that wall were shuddering violently.

    A small group of soldiers stood maybe a mile back from those gates. Blockades of wooden debris blocked all the cross streets, so the invaders would only have one direction to run. Lagus saw traps behind the defensive soldiers. They must not have been confident in their victory, expecting those knocking at the gates to break their lines, if the absurd number of traps was anything to go by.

    "Briseis," a man spoke. Lagus was startled at the harsh tone of voice. His perspective shifted again, and Lagus now stood on the balcony behind a woman with long dark hair. She hadn't been there a moment before. She was looking at the gates he'd been taking in with a fierce intensity. She was dressed in fine clothing, black ink of tattoos in swirling lines and shapes extended down the woman's left arm. "Briseis," the unseen man's voice was more forceful now.

    The woman turned, and Lagus gasped. Briseis — he could only assume the same Briseis he'd just given a prophecy for though he'd never seen the child — but it had to be her, for she had glowing yellow eyes. The mark of heaven was an unmistakable sign of a demigod, an undeniable  proof of divine origin as all who were children of the gods were born with such eyes.

    It was the heir of Pedasus he faced, many years into the future as a grown woman. She was perhaps somewhere in her middle twenties, yet because of the slower aging process with half-bloods, it was difficult to tell.

    "The Black Shields will break through any minute," Briseis said coldly. "As High Prince, it's your duty to face them. Why are you still here?"

    The man put on the helmet he'd been carrying. It had a purple plume cascading from the top, denoting his royal status. "I'm not going to survive this battle," the man said bluntly. "Take this." He held out a silver dagger to her. "The heir is supposed to hold this as a symbol of their authority. As your husband, I ask you to do me one favor," Briseis snorted as he called himself her husband, but the man continued. "Use it to kill Achilles and end this assault on the Troad. Has everyone been evacuated?" he asked as Briseis took the knife. If the man really was Briseis' husband, one could be forgiven for thinking otherwise. His tone and look held no affection for the woman before him.

    "Yes, Kegarta is seeing to the last of the people now." Briseis turned back to the shuttering gates in the distance.

    "Very well," the man said.

    The gates shook again and shouting from behind them filled the air. Lagus' eyesight was greatly enhanced in this vision; even from this distance, he could see the wood of the gates begin to splinter. Without another word, the man who declared he was about to die left them. Briseis set the silver knife on the balcony railing. Seconds later, a horse bearing the man burst through the palace gates and toward the waiting soldiers. His purple plume made it easy to track him as it flapped in the wind. She watched, seemingly detached, as her husband went to his doom. He weaved the horse in strange patterns to avoid the traps set around the only thoroughfare that hadn't been blocked off.

    Just as he jumped from his steed, the gates failed. With a thundering crash, the twin doors slammed onto the stone road. A sea of black shields flowed into the street and took positions. They stopped as one man came forward. He was taller than anyone else on either side of the battle. His bright gold locks shimmered in the sun, dripping with sweat.

    "You'll have no glory in this victory, Achilles," the man from the balcony screamed at the lead invader. "Return to your ships and less of your Myrmidons shall die!"

    "There are no agreements between lions and men," the leader of the black shields shouted. Both sides screamed as they rattled their weapons and ran at each other.

     Pain pulled Lagus from the vision and back into his body, which was no longer aflame but the bite of that heat had left his arm a ruin. The guard above him had used his cloak to smother the flame but there was nothing to be done for the pain.

     "The girl must be taken from Pedasus," Lagus told the King through gritted teeth. "She's a curse."

     "Take him to the healers," Briseus ordered, looking pale. "Speak of this to no one."

     A baby began to cry, Lagus' screams had interrupted the babe's rest and each cry echoed in Lagus' ears. Despite the pain, Lagus sprung to his feet and attempted to run into the nursery. Two guards stopped Lagus before he could get that far.

     "You must listen to me," Lagus locked eyes with the King. "The child must be sent away. Those of dual fates bring only ruin!"

     "Remove him!" Briseus flinched as he used his injured hand to gesture at Lagus. Blood was beginning to soak through the bandage and leak onto the floor. Briseus felt a chill run through his body as he remembered the blackened sun under which Briseis had come into the world.