“Therys you couldn’t have done any more…”

His face set in stone, a grave picture of disappointment and anger, Therys slowly stood to face out toward the lake – to the ripples where Gorm’s slithering form had disappeared beneath the water.

“Your Highness, with respect, it should never have been this way. If it wasn’t for your…” Therys paused – he had already said too much.

“My father?”

There was silence. Flies began to gather around the figure of little Joshua at their feet – already laying their filthy larvae in a royal bed.

Closing her mind to the ravaged garden, and the diplomatic crisis undoubtedly threatening her own leadership, Juno slowly swept a small, pale hand over the rotting corpse in front of her.

Therys raised a languid eyebrow as a dozen yellow butterflies rose from where the body had lain not a moment ago.

“You’re learning I see.”

“There’s only so much I can do on my own Therys.”

As the court magician placed a firm hand on the girl’s shoulder, the butterflies dissolved into dust.