SERVANTS OF THE CROWN

crown two; two masters

"Lysandra," the Second Aether Princess shrieked. "What are you doing?"

"Proved a point that I must pay for," the Grandmaster answered, green dress swishing as she yanked Eiothne Acelia along. "Let's go."

"What point?" Eiothne demanded, futilely trying to retrieve her hand from Lysandra's iron grip. "Just because you're you doesn't also mean you can just drag the monarch of another country around like a ragged doll!"

Lysandra cackled. "Don't bother going into diplomacy, Io, darling." she glanced back with a wicked grin. "It doesn't suit you."

The Princess gives her a look of pure hatred. "Don't call me that."

They stop in front of the palace library with flourish— Lysandra with her cat-like grin and Eiothne with her signature youthful exuberance of little patience. A member of the Monarch Guard stationed in the Echomai Palace — the capital of Gaia — year round, bows when he sees her. 

"Lady Liyostoni." Armour clinks as he sinks to his knees.

Lysandra smiles— A familiar, diplomatic, kind ruler smile with her luscious brown locks framing her face and curved jade green eyes. "Rise," she said, voice low and authoritative. 

Eiothne snorts when the guard is out of hearing range and rips her wrist out of Lysandra's grasp violently, showing her true nature as a seasoned warrior. Blonde braid fanning behind her as she slams open the heavy library door with both hands, grey 'battle-dress' fanning out behind her. Sinking down into a chair with a very male, military poise, she glances at Lysandra with the grey eyes filled with youthful boredom that reminds Lysandra of Elias. Of a time where Lysandra and her brother did not have to worry about the things, they must now. 

"Don't you ever get tired?" Grey eyes continue to bore into the green of the Grandmaster's dress.

"Of what?" Lysandra asked back, thumbing through pages of a book she knew well. Very, very well.

"Of the acting. Of the lies. You came to Gaia to prevent a war — you have. You made a fallen country into a prosperous empire. The lies you used to create what you have today can be shed, could have shed a long time ago. You don't have to be dead. You don't have to pretend to be Liyostoni Paladizagaea. Why do you?" Eiothne asked, alight with a fervour that only warriors have.

Lysandra didn't hold a war to have Gaia. Aether is ruled by a nation of seasoned warriors. 

Alas, only the heroes are remembered. Never are the kings who come after them— The kings that bring the wealth and prosperity the heroes who only knew war could never have. And that was why Haruto sent her instead of Elias or Izana six years ago. Because what Clarines needed — the golden idols that Elias and Izana presented was not what Gaia needed. What Gaia needed had been a gentle, firm hand full of gold and wreathed in shadows. A hand who would be able to guide from the dark and rule without military power. Lysandra had won without war— she bought out the lands of every last lord in the land with the combined fortune of her personal trove and Ciairos' fortune then returned the lands back to those who could be changed.

Izana and Elias would've never tried to change them. The sense of morals, the upholding of law and justice, the makings of a hero. Things that would only succeed in destroying Gaia further. 

"Sa," Lysandra sighs in her reply, "if only I was like you when I was eighteen... Maybe I wouldn't have to pretend being six-feet under, now."

Eiothne scoffs. "You took over a nation when you were twenty-four. Enligeca told me I would've wrecked Gaia if I even tried."