hearts and crowns

II. comfort

"There will be three ministers of the government. Any major state decision will require the approval of at least two ministers and the ministers will be elected by the Caste General every six years," said Suki that night as they were getting ready for bed.

They slept in separate beds, of course. There might have been a time when Cyrus would have considered bedding Suki, but that time was long gone. Now, they shared a room becuase nobody else wanted to share with Suki.

"What's the Caste General?" he asked with mild interest. It didn't matter anyway because they were going to restore the princess to the throne, but it was always good to know the movements of one's enemy.

"The first legislative assembly in the history of Calydon. There are four hundred delegates, one hundred from each caste."

Cyrus could see many problems with this. Why did the nobles, who had a much smaller population than the peasants, have the same number of delegates?

He lay awake in the middle of the night, pondering over the day's events and dreading having to fall asleep. So many things had happened in one day, the coup, their mission, and the princess.

Cyrus didn't want to delude himself. He knew mercenaries and princesses did not mix. But he still had an inexplicable urge to want to know her better, to know what made her laugh or smile, or to know why her eyes always seemed to have a layer of sadness just below her anger.

He bolted up, the room suddenly feeling too hot.

He made his way out of the base, careful not to disturb Suki or anybody else who might be awake at this time.

Spring in Calydon meant that the thick winter snow still coated the ground, it just didn't snow anymore. A line of footprints in the snow led from the base to the forest, and, following his impulse, Cyrus followed it into the woods.

Cyrus saw a hunched silhouette and quickened his pace, stopping when he realized who it was.

The princess's caramel hair was unmistakable. Cyrus almost did a double take when he saw that she was sitting on the ground like a peasant.

Was she shaking?

Cyrus's heart dropped when he saw her body racked with silent sobs. He found himself sitting beside her, and draped his cloak over her to stop her from shivering.

"Father," she cried, leaning against Cyrus. He instinctively put an arm around her, almost to protect her, even though he knew that he couldn't shield her from all the day's horrors. He wasn't even sure if she needed it. "Mother. Myra was five. How could you kill a child in cold blood like that?"

"I know," Cyrus murmured. Her tears were warm against his shoulder, although the night wind soon turned them cold.

"How could you know?" she asked vehemently, flinching when he raised a hand to brush some fallen snow off of her left shoulder. His hand settled back to the small of her back, and she leaned into his touch.

Cyrus laughed humorlessly. He supposed telling her wouldn't hurt. After all, he would never see her again after this task.

"You know that the Heron family and the Jacobin family have hated each other since Astrana was built," Cyrus began. Maybe if he told her his story, she would stop dwelling on the day's events.

"That's why I came here, to the Heron Mercenaries, you know. You have a reason to hate Melia Jacobin."

He nodded, bracing himself. He had never told anybody except Suki. But to Suki, it was different. Suki had an air of indifference about her, and he never worried that a single past experience would change her perception of him.

But Asteria was different, and Cyrus knew that. She made him feel so open, and it felt like by telling her this story, he was giving her power over him, power to hurt him.

What if she never looked at him the same way?

Against his better judgement, he told her everything. How Rena had fallen in love with the little Jacobin boy.

How the Heron house put aside their long rivalry for the happiness of the youngest member of the house.

How the Jacobins, refusing to let go of their tradition, refused to bless the marriage as Cyrus and his father had.

How desperation had driven the two love besotten teenagers to steal away in the dead of night, driven mad by the idea that they would have to put up a pretense of hating each other for the rest of their lives.

"I still wake up to the sounds of Rena's screams as Melia Jacobin drove that accursed Jacobin dagger into her again and again and again."

He shuddered, memories of that night rushing back. "I relive that day over and over, wondering if there was anything I could have done. And...I don't know.

"I-I'm sorry. You have more important things to worry about, with your family and-"

She interrupted him gently, her voice void of tears. "No. My sufferings do not invalidate yours. I'm sorry that you had to lose her. That's why your father left to start the Heron mercenaries, wasn't it? I had heard something about a branch of the Heron family leaving out of disgust for the vicious court politics."

Cyrus nodded, not trusting himself to say anything.

She hadn't drawn away in disgust at his brokenness, at his weakness. It hadn't changed her opinion of him. She hadn't looked at him like his weakness made him broken.

It was nice that she had more faith in him than he had in himself.

She shivered and drew closer to him, her warmth nearly engulfing him in something akin to happiness. No, not happiness. Contentedness. It wasn't happiness, but maybe happiness was too much to ask for.

"I wonder what the others would think of this," she commented wryly. "Mercenary and princess cuddled in the snow together." She flushed at the latter part of the sentence.

He laughed. "Suki would murder me."

A pause. And then the inevitable question.

"She's half Ilyan, isn't she? That's why the others don't like her."

Cyrus was pleasantly surprised. "I..wow I didn't expect you to name exactly why. Most people just look at her slanted indigo eyes and snow white skin and brand her as...different. Lesser."

Asteria shot him a shocked, almost guilty look. He continued. "I don't believe that some people are better than others just because they have more riches, or because they're more attractive. That's the point of this mercenary company. We take everybody, even the misfits.

"That's why the way the others treat Suki shocks me so much. How can outcasts treat other outcasts as lesser?"

It was Cyrus's turn to redden, realizing the mistake of his outburst. But as he opened his mouth to apologize, he was shocked by the feeling of her soft lips against the outline of his rough, unshaven jaw.

"Thank you," she murmured. "For opening my eyes."

She smiled slightly, and he was glad that he could take her mind off of her sorrow, even if for just a moment.

After all, that was what defined people, wasn't it? People weren't defined by how they acted most of the time. They were defined by how they acted in those crucial, life changing moments.

Asteria wasn't defined by her time as a spoiled princess of the court - she was defined by her decision to fight for her kingdom back rather than abandoning her people.

But it also meant that he wasn't defined by what he did after Rena's death. He was defined by how he was too blind to stop it from happening. 

a/n: Aren't Cyrus and Asteria the cutest? This chapter was kind of hard to write because I really wanted to nail how Asteria's compassion and Cyrus's survivor's guilt play off each other. 

I would really appreciate it if you left a like or comment - it really motivates me to write! Thank you for reading this far. love,

-isadora