Heather
"Well, it'd be wrong to say that your thoughts are not yours. They are, just influenced. Arguably, one could say influenced thoughts no longer belong to you. Nonetheless, you'd just have to search deeper down to reflect on that and know what is yours and what is not. It's tricky, but nothing impossible. Something impossible could ever exist."

"You've got a stronger mind than you'd expect, Astalios. Remember that you're a Dilitrios by blood. What lives within you is a little god that's been four cornered."

Alora dropped her arms off her brother's shoulders and leant him back on the tree. All throughout, his sister's sweet voice had remained as is. Not even once had it cracked, or switched to express a form of anger or irritation. That emotion simply did not exist within her. She couldn't fathom the existence of that emotion. The light in Alora's eyes returned as the fire was extinguished by them comforting one another.

"Well,"

Alora pat her thighs and pulled herself to her feet. She brushed any debris that hung onto the ruffles and patterns of her gown.

"I've got an appointment with the town's well-known seamstresses. I wouldn't want to keep them waiting as they've got busy schedules ahead. They inspected my closet just a few days ago and concluded that my wardrobe has outdated. I was told that 7 pieces were to be replaced against my will."

Her head hung low as she muttered the last bit of her sentence. She wasn't too content that she had to clean out her closet. She felt that getting rid of old clothes or attires disposed memories. 
.

?
.
"Huh.."

The princess felt her neck lock in position. She was unable to lift her head, along with the lids of her eyes. A sudden wave of tiredness had taken ahold of her. At her palms burned a feeling of unease. It was not pleasant, and certainly not of the ordinary. What would've also been out of the ordinary were the reverberations she had so suddenly felt. A thought then crossed her mind. Had she taken a quick glance into the future to feel and be met with such oddness? Had she, she must have known. She never voluntarily tried to, and was never asleep to have it done involuntarily. The princess was left thinking with a feeling that teased the strength of her knees.
Bobby
*This time, he kept his mouth shut. The question that lingered, that he had posed to her and she had not grasped, was how she could be sure his thoughts were his own when he himself was not? She had heard of it secondhand, and was so confident in her brother that there was no doubt in her mind he was in charge of how he thought and behaved. That was the idea, of course, but it was impossible to really discern, so far as he knew. The gods were beyond mortal reckoning. Who knew how they behaved and how they did not? Reality was their plaything, much less his mind.*

"Your faith is quite unshakable." *He replied quietly, uneasy with the conclusion she had drawn. There was very little he could hold onto, and while he was unsure she quite grasped the scope of the occasion, her steady and calm demeanor was a stabilizing force in many ways. No anger, no irritation, simply passion and patience. A rare combination indeed. He could only hope that he was worthy of such faith in the end. If he were her, he would not have trusted the man that appeared before her so strongly.

His eyebrows raised in surprise as she began to talk about seamstresses and preparing dresses. The conversation was not normally the sort of thing that led into conversations about clothing, and as his mouth opened to comment on the fact that she was a princess, and if anyone was giving her orders, she would be remiss not to come to him or dismiss them herself, a cold feeling played upon his spine once again.

The world seemed to darken, though nothing had changed, and a voice spoke in his ear, though Alora and himself were the only two occupants of the garden. It shook the world with its intensity, power flowing from every word, and Astalios could feel the presence in his very bones. His heart began to beat quicker, temperature rising in an instant, hands contracting into fists, the pool of metal that had once been his armor erupting in a series of fragmenting spikes.*

_ _
*It was **Him**. There could be no doubt. His eyes burned with fury, and though he found himself immobile, his hands twitched upwards, trying to gather some strength to fight with before he toppled over into the grass, drained, eyes fluttering in a desperate attempt to stay awake. The nest of spikes behind him remained in place, a remnant of the god's intervention and his magic, but there was little Astalios could do but battle for a breath.

Even then, that did not come easy...*
Heather
Alora's sealed lips rounded themselves in shock as brother toppled onto his side. The clanking of his armour rang in her ears, as well as the wheezing sound of air that escaped his lungs. It wasn't every day where she saw her brother so powerless, and today had been a day full of all sorts of weaknesses. 
Usually when someone was fighting to stay awake, their eyes would droop and they'd have a peaceful expression on their face. That was not the case for Astalios. He seemed to be far from grasping peace. The expression that wrinkled his face reminded her of a soldier waging a war. He was certainly tired, but herself feeling a sudden wave of tiredness is what baffled her. There was some form of a supernatural being or force that was doing this to them, without a doubt, and it was specifically being tougher on Astalios.
Regardless, there hadn't been much time to think. There was just enough time for her to get her soon-to-be unconscious brother and flee to the interior of the castle. 

Raging against the position her neck was locked in had it unlock. Quickly, the princess dropped to her knees and pat the ground around her brother's head to see if he'd flinch. A flinch would've indicated consciousness. Before her brother could've even flinched, the princess was struck with an idea. She threw one of her brother's arm around her shoulders. The princess grabbed the pit of his knee, placed it onto her hip, and pulled herself to her feet to start walking.

Once she felt her knees and arms, that had already lost their strength from this "Spell", giving out after a few steps, she chose to use one of her many abilities. This would make it the first time that Astalios saw Alora's magic. A strong gush of wind had knocked the two siblings as an 8-ft flower had spawned to Alora's assistance. Using her index and middle finger of her other free hand, she'd order the flower to curl itself and let out its leaves to them. Obediently the flower did as told and embraced the two siblings with its leaves. The flower then circled around the perimeter of the castle under Alora's command, searching for a balcony. Finally finding one, it placed the Dilitrios siblings down on it and backed away. The princess gave a quick peck to one of the petals of the flower. Excitedly the flower recoiled backwards and shrunk back to the normal size of a flower. The speed of its recoiling reminded most of a slinky being let go of. In remembrance of the flower, as per usual, a mark was left behind. The glittery petals of the flower scintillated under the warmth of the sun in the royal garden, where the flower had grown. 

The closest balcony that'd been to the garden was obviously Alora's, and the doors were always left often during the day to wind her her room with the sweet smell of nectar and flowers. The princess briskly rushed inside and from her room, ran outwards towards Astalios's chamber. Many maids and guards seemed confused as well as worried. They all followed Alora but stopped at the entrance of the King's chamber. The door had slammed shut and a following sound heard would have been the body of the King's thrown into his bed.
Bobby
*He was not alone. 

The presence had faded as surely as it had arrived, but his time hearing the voice of the god so clearly had been taxing for the body, to say the least. There was much he did not know about the plans of the voice that spoke in his head, but what else could a war god want but war? It was his domain, he thought to himself. His domain. Was 'he' the god or the man? Astalios himself surely was unused to peace.

There was not much energy left to struggle against the closing of his eyes, and his vision was blurred and dark behind the curtain of nearly-shut lashes. Faintly, he could feel someone looping an arm around his shoulders. The sweet scent of a flower. He was being pulled somewhere. Alora. It had to be Alora, he thought to himself, for no one else was in the garden. He tried to spark some measure of movement in his muscles to help her. Dead weight was harder to move than even cripple who a small amount of help. He had been surprised at the weight of a corpse compared to the wounded when he'd first carried one.

He could not be a corpse.

They stopped. Something shuffled around them, something green - then they were moving again, and his feet felt the familiar touch of stone. Marble flooring, perhaps. Drained as he might be, he struggled to open his eyes in truth now, a herculean effortin itself. Alora's chambers, he thought - how had they gotten there? Magic, it had to be. They had not walked the steps. Out through the door they went, and Astalios's feet scrabbled slightly for ground, attempted to find purchase and support himself. They could not collapse again. They had to make it. The oaken door of his study appeared before them, and as the door opened, Astalios tried to muster a few words with a failing voice.*

"The... Ch-" *A throat far too dry for the length of time that had passed cut out in the midst of the sentence, and his sister continued past to the bedchamber, passing the chairs by.*

_ _
*As she laid him down upon the bed, he could do little but lay there for a few moments, gathering breath and strength, thoughts whirling about in his head like a gathering storm. He was not alone. He was not alone. His sister. The god. The man. The line between the two blurred and twisted, leaving him unsure what he could trust, what it could mean.*

"I am not alone." *He croaked out finally, fingers scrambling for the nearest bedpost as he drew himself upwards by his fingernails, leaden arms working overtime to produce some sort of result. He felt as if he'd fought three battles in the course of a single day - one was enough to exhaust a man, two enough to drain him, and three enough to kill him. It was not often that one survived the third.

He needed to control himself. There was time enough for figuring out what the words of the god meant. Right now, he had to present a story to the servants, ensure it didn't spread. There was ruling to be done, no matter how badly he wished to collapse. Disaster management, he thought to himself. King collapses in palace. No.*

"Tell the servants I have retired to my chambers, and that I require a meal." *He choked out, finally pulling himself into a sitting position.* "We will discuss this later, Alora, but things may have developed. I cannot thank you enough for your assistance in this matter." *She had been a true asset in the moment, helped him back to his room, got him off the garden grounds and into the castle, where he could be tended to should he need it.*

"For now... I should rest..."