Honeyed afternoon sunshine washed into the palace through vaulted windows, puddling on the broad flagstones. In the reverent hush of the room, a man trod, deliberate and unhurried, across the rose sandstone floor. The hem of his white robes made shushing sounds as they dragged along behind, as though scolding any who might dare break the tranquil silence. 

He halted at the foot of a dais that rose to take up the breadth of the cavernous room and bowed from the waist. The stiff fabric of the robe swayed with his movements as he touched the tips of copper-toned fingers to his chest, lips, and forehead, ere raising his hand in supplication to the dais.

"My breath, my words, my mind, for you, my Princess," he murmured as he made the motions. For another long, sighing moment, he remained bowed before straightening again to look at the figure on the dais. Ensconced in a dark stone throne sat a woman, unmoving as a statue. Her long hair fell in a waterfall of black over shimmering bronze shoulders and around golden tubes. With a fortifying breath, the man allowed his eye to travel further down her form, taking in that which was revealed by the drapes of her green dress.

"Capelian."

The man in white gave a start but recovered himself to incline his head to the man who appeared at his side.

"Ken-seh Gorumn."

The plates of the newcomer's emerald enamelled kilt clacked as he made his veneration, chains of gold and jade sparkling against his bare chest as he rose from his bow.

"How fares our Princess this day, wise Capelian?"

"You see plain as I, fair Ken-seh, she does not fare well," the Capelian said, raising his hand in gesture. Gorumn raised his eyes to the woman, his face impassive as he took in the cracked glass heart beneath her splayed ribs and the fiercely flickering flame trapped therein.

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"I see, Capelian, but I do not understand," Gorumn said, a poisonous innocence in his eyes. "I am but a child against your wisdom; pray, elucidate for me."

The Capelian's expression darkened. "Were I not as wise as you proclaim, I should have you struck down for telling falsehoods in our venerable Princess's presence. You understand well enough what is before you – and more, you understand the cause of it." The Capelian turned, looking into the kohl-darkened eyes of the advisor. "Once again, Ken-seh Gorumn, I beg you to stop this wretched campaign. Call for truce! Stand forward and be the one to mend relations between the Ædar and the Paxik. If you don't-"

Gorumn laughed. "You think to threaten me, Capelian?"

The Capelian took another steadying breath, his expression downcast. "No, Ken-seh. I speak only of what is to come if you are unable to heal this rift. If you cannot, then the Princess's heart will shatter."

"A woman with a broken heart." Gorumn shook his head with a sneer. "And here I had assumed you would not stoop to folktale drivel. Women get their hearts broken all the time."

"Most women's hearts do not contain the life of our home and the will to unmake it in a trice." The Capelian looked down his nose at Gorumn. "Perhaps you were correct – you are just a simple child if you cannot see the way her anger lashes; if you cannot see the fractures already forming from the heat of it. Mark my words, Ken-seh, if you do not stop this civil war, then you shall be responsible for turning all that we hold dear to into ashes."

Gorumn took a step back, unnerved by the chill in the Capelian's tone. 

"Fantasies," Gorumn scoffed, awkwardly flailing a hand. "You call me a child, and yet you... You hide behind these tall tales in an attempt to – what – frighten me into compliance? No. This petty dispute needs no government intercession." Gorumn began to walk away but paused to turn back, leaning in with narrowed eyes and hissing voice to make his point, "And no ill will come from it. The heart and the flame will flicker on, no matter what you, doom-sayer, may think!"

The Capelian took this tirade with a stony face and pursed lips. Only with the clarion closing of the door did he turn back to the Princess, the flame wilder than before.

"Shall I make the necessary arrangements, my Princess?" he asked the warm, still air. For the nearest moment, the flame stilled, standing tall and sure. The Capelian's eyes closed briefly as a dark sorrow passed over his face. Then, with a sigh, the supplicant gestures were repeated.

"My breath, my lips, my mind in service to you and our people, always."