[DanteriusAvius]

Deep within Osrona castle, a journal is left open, a woman asleep on the desk next to it, her pen still in hand. Surrounded by endless piles of paper, threatening to collapse and bury the woman in their pages, it seems that it wasn't the endless work to exhaust her, so much as the contents of the journal itself.

Tomorrow, Arista ven Pelleaux dies.

Not on a battlefield, not at home in her sleep. Not of famine, illness, loneliness, injury, nor anything so mundane. I die of necessity, as my feet cross the threshold of my self created prison. I set myself on this course, and I am resolute, content even, in its destination. I will embrace that which happens with the entirety of my being.

But for this last night, I'll be self indulgent. Nostalgic, and musing on matters that ultimately, change nothing about where I am. A final twilight to muse on those matters that do not matter at all, before I must discard them to the fires of rebirth, to fuel the future of our beloved city.

And yet, these thoughts matter intensely in our hearts. Irrationally, foolishly so.

What would you think Mother? Your daughter, who spent years chasing your shadow, clinging at your legs, begging you to stay just a little bit longer today. Who waved goodbye, expecting to see you that night when you finally concluded the duties of Stellus, only, to never see you return.

It is because of you that I learned how to truly protect people. To give up what I want, what my heart cries for, to do what is right, no matter how it hurts me. To trust, that those around me will understand in the end.

Would you have stood against me? Or told me, one more time, how you were always proud of us?

Grandmother, the last time we spoke it was on the matter of our blood. We disagreed that day, you told us how the Council was better, for the people at large. Yet I could only see it for its faults. Having served on it now? I saw where there could've been something great, but what could've been, no longer was. I'm unsure what you'd think now. You said it was right for the people to choose their leaders, and in many ways, they've chosen their leaders, but in a different form.

I've tried to ensure that Osrona stayed unified, as best I could. There's some who are unhappy, but from what I understand, it was the same for you and Grandfather, no?

Would you have stood against me? Or told me, one more time, how you were proud of us?

Grandfather...your legacy has always been a painful one for me. But as I served on the Council, as I gaze into the throne shaped cell awaiting me, I understand you more. Everything was for Osrona. It mattered not what you wanted, nor anyone else wanted, if it didn't serve the interests and well-being of the city. And sometimes, that well-being is obfuscated. I'm sure I'll make mistakes.

I'll try, to make Osrona as beautiful as it is in my dreams. I know you were at the rally, yet, you said nothing.

Did you want to stand against me? Or tell me, for the first time, how you were proud of us?

I don't suspect any of you will ever read this. I'll likely burn it after I'm done here. Such musings are not fit for a Queen after all. But my childish thoughts deserve to have their moment of existence. Brief as it may be.

I have promises, wishes, desires, that all will die tomorrow, left in the being that was Arista ven Pelleaux. None of them matter anymore. They can't matter. The Monarch exists solely for her people.

I know that. It burns at my core, through my mind, as my being is already recreating, as if being reforged into who I will be.

So why can't I face the one problem that stares at me every day? That which could be the greatest gift Osrona has ever had.

Or the seed of its death.

The latter I will never allow. No matter what it costs me.

Malziel, Leonaus, please forgive my one weakness, and guide us into the future of prosperity I dream of every day, in those moments where I can permit myself to remember my childhood dreams.

Tomorrow, Arista ven Pelleaux dies. And Arista rei Petrakis is born.

Justice, and forgiveness, walk hand in hand, ever onward into the future.

[DanteriusAvius]

Within the Shimmering City, an ancient woman, who once called herself the Crownless Queen began to play. Having lived much of her twilight years in near solitude, having not touched the ivory keys of a piano for close to eighty years, it was slow, and halting. But the practice was to be had. For a final task lay at hand.

Within the Shimmering City, in a far corner of the castle, a song was sung. Practiced, until it could be performed up to the standards she saw fit, utilizing her failing mana circuitry to ease the aches and pains of her age. Servants, visitors, any who asked why the interest, were met with a singular response.

"I promised this song to someone once. And while they may never hear it, I feel they'd have wanted it performed even once, rather than leave it left unsung, as another regret upon myself."

Weeks, and months passed until finally the song was sung, in a manner in which the elderly queen was pleased.

---

The following day, Lady Arista rin Petrakis, the Crownless Queen, was found deceased in her quarters, sitting in a chair and gazing up towards the sky. She survived to the age of 94, the year of 1922. She had seen other countries rise and fall, had given rise to a Monarchy in her own right, and left little behind, having given most of her possessions away as she had aged, her children no longer residing within Osrona.

It was said, that she was smiling ever so slightly, a rare sight in her lonely twilight years.