There is always a subtle undercurrent of curiosity in the questioning of others for Aithne. What was their intentions, their desires, and did they run true to the foundations the Empress had laid out? She did not tolerate those who chose to irritate hatreds for the sheer sake of hatred itself. Such was a foolish endeavor and life was too precious to consider wasting it on petty grudges. There were criminals and then there were foolish followers, those who fought against a wrong not even done to them, or a slight so small as to be insignificant. Demons and Angels, what did it matter? One wolf had hurt another, perhaps, and thus spawned a feud that lasted a lifetime.

Lamia grins, a momentary thing that has Aithne's emerald eyes watching her with avid interest. What about her words amused Lamia? The girl was an oddity to be sure but it was somewhat refreshing for Iromar had been quiet for too long. Freedom? "We are free the moment we are born, despite what trappings one thinks they are in." There is a calm note in her voice, as if she is musing this to herself as well as Lamia. Nothing could contain Aithne if she so wished it - each rule could be broken and yet she had carefully constructed each thing with a purpose devised to make her stronger. Better.

What were his last words. Aithne's ears fall back as she looks away from Lamia for a moment, thinking back to that fateful day. That day when she took his neck between her thick jaws and squeezed the life from him, the madness giving way to clarity for a few moments. The breaking she felt inside her at having to do such yet the strength that he had given her to do it. Sister. Her head jerks up at the word, eyes wide in surprise, a thing not often given to the Empress. Then, softly, she smiles, a slight thump of her tail the only indication that this word pleases her.

"He asked me to send him on. Not in so many words for he was ill at the time, you see, and he could barely ask even that of me. He worried your mother would not take him back in the underworld but I believe she never let him go to begin with. Part of him was with her and part was here but one cannot live so torn." Her mind flashes once more to Siren. Now that she had Praetor she did not know what it would be like to live without him, her other half. "Death was a kindness for him," she murmurs then, conviction filling her voice. What would his daughter say?

Nine - Empress of Iromar - fated for Praetor

aithne