The rain fell in sheets that tapped faintly on the tile roof far above the gathered audience. The damp pervaded the air inside and out of the cathedral, leading many who were not shivering in grief to instead shiver from the cold. All seemed to be affected, that is, except for one – the one who should have been affected most.<br/><br/>Prince Ewan’s frown was drawn up into a mask which he had worn since the death of his young wife a few days previous. His façade was so tightly bound that it seemed as if he was squinting, even in the dim half-light of the great church around him. He stared blankly at the brass and enamel-laden châsse which held her remains while wrestling with the tangle of emotions playing out within him.<br/><br/>The priest droned on for nearly an hour in Latin with all of the proper import due the passing of a Prince’s wife. Although Ewan could read and speak the ancient language fluently, he chose to ignore what he believed to be rote and pointless words. He only began paying attention when it was clear the end of the mass was approaching.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">“Pie Jesu Domine, dona eis requiem. Amen,”</span>he concluded, intoning Jesus to grant her eternal rest. The priest’s final words echoed distantly across the massive stone church.<br/><br/>As one the gathered guests crossed themselves and echoed his final word back to him before slowly rising to their feet. The silence that followed was awkward and deafening. Whimpers from Aeronwen’s mother and sisters could clearly be heard. This did not move Ewan, though, who instead closed his eyes and shook his head in a disapproving fashion. Footfalls behind him indicated it was time. He, flanked by other immediate family members, slowly formed a line that approached the reliquary box. It was time to walk the remains of his wife into the royal catacombs.<br/><br/>Later that day the storm turned angry and lightning fell with ever increasing frequency for more than an hour. It was not until darkness had come that all was quiet once again.<br/><br/>Ewan spent only a few moments at the great meal hosted in Aeronwen’s honor before excusing himself to his chambers. Once there, he sat alone by his fire sipping a brandy to ward off the inner and outer chill. At one point he could hear the cries of his newborn son Carrick in a nearby chamber, which was shortly thereafter quieted by a visit from his wet-nurse. Ewan swirled his drink and stared into the fire as he considered going to see his first, and only child – the one whose birth issued in the death of his wife. He did not, however; tied to his chair as he was with a Gordian knot of intractable emotions.<br/><br/>When the decanter had been emptied he had no choice but to take some form of action. Once he was standing he decided in that moment that he did not wish to be alone any more.<br/><br/>“I am to bed, do not disturb me until morning,” he shouted through his door to his attendants. One of them dutifully replied with the words, “Aye my Prince” without opening the chamber door. They knew better.<br/><br/>Instead of walking to his bed, however, Ewan stepped over to a nearby bookcase. He removed a few tomes and the wooden panel behind them which revealed an opening just large enough for him to fit through. Once on the other side he reached back through for a candle and to replace the books and panel which he had disturbed. After that he made his way down the cramped and cobweb-filled gap in the keep's outer wall. He knew that on the other end of the winding passage lay the chamber in which Victoria usually slept when visiting the capitol.