Elladan stood next to his wife, waiting for Aranel to emerge. She did, highly amused by her two daughters. Eruaistaniel smiled.

"What are they fighting about now?" She inquired.

"A hairbrush," Aranel sighed. The queen hugged the two. She led them into the throne room, the three already engaged retelling stories of recent events.

-
10 Years Laters
-

Eldarion held his wife's hand, their fingers tightly entwined. Bailwyn sighed and leaned against the prince, and stared at the row of small gravestones.

The first read Aranel Dawnfire. She had been taken by battle, struck down by a friend turned traitor. She had died as she slew that friend.

The second read Morgana Larkwing. She has been stolen by illness, a long drawn out sickness. She had died a few months after her child was born.

The last read Indil Starlight II. The youngest had been killed by an assassin that entered the castle. He had aimed for the King, but Indil had stepped in the way.

Eldarion, the now heir to the throne, had a child(his niece) and a wife to watch over, and now the city was under attack. Bailwyn placed a small kiss on his cheek.

"They will not be forgotten," the woman whispered. Eldarion wrapped her arm around around her waist, releasing her hand.

"I know," he replied. "I know."

Bailwyn smiled up at him.

"Your our last hope for peace, Eldarion."

Our last hope.

Our last hope.