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It’s been about a year and a half since Musa fell. Gloria had gone into hiding in Halcyonia with Sir Sloan. She had been laying low, but at least she had identified a partner to sire her child, along with a foster family to raise them. It was inevitable. As the last of the line of Musa, she was also the last to be able to perform the ritual to seal the Night’s Nexus away. She could only give the world 200 years at most. She shuddered at the thought.
Gloria looked out the window of the small cottage she was using as a hiding spot. Winter in Halcyonia wasn’t nearly as cold as Musan winters, but she remained indoors for the sake of the child. It would be a lie to say that she hadn’t thought of what could happen to the poor bastard. The foster family could lose the notes that she wrote down to pass to the child. The child themselves could deny their duty, or they could be found and killed. There were a multitude of ways this could go wrong, but Gloria did what she must, and what she could.
She sighed. Sir Sloan stood beside her, loyal to the end. He offered to bring a cup of tea, to which she accepted. As he made his way to the kitchen, Gloria pondered what the days of the Heroes of Light were like, when Sloan and her grandfather were considered equals in strength. She had heard many stories, but she secretly wished there was something she could do, other than wait for a child. This child would not only be stuck in this cycle of death, but she could not even be there as a proper mother.
No. She had to shake those thoughts off her mind. They were not good for her health, and her duty is more important than what she felt.
Instead, her gaze wandered back to the window. It didn’t snow in Halcyonia, much unlike Musa. The last winter she spent with her family was tranquil, save for the winter festivities. Those were always a wonderful affair. She was too old to receive gifts like the children, but her father had arranged a ball. Gloria knew that it was mainly to find a suitable husband for her, but she had fun anyways, even if it was technically a failure. Despite their hospitality, Musan nobles were far too arrogant for her taste. She preferred to be with someone more straightforward, to say the least.
Sir Sloan returned with the tea, and Gloria took the cup and sipped. However, the old knight asked if she was alright. The princess touched her cheek. She was crying.
“I’m quite alright, Sir Sloan,” she lied, “I just need some warm tea.”
“Milady,” Sloan began, “thou know'st that after every winter, there is spring. Be not afraid, for spring will come.”
Gloria could only hope and pray that it was true.