Sylviane wasn't sure how long she had wailed on. With her tears already spent, her emotions had seized her voice as the only form of release.

Now, it was impossible not to feel embarrassed as she and Pascal continued to sit on the bedside floor. They leaned against each other in silence, with Pascal's arm wrapped around her shoulders while her head rested upon his.

At least, she was silent...

Sylviane had enough experience to realize that Pascal could read the atmosphere. He just rarely knew how to act accordingly.

Not long after she stopped crying, Pascal went back to talking by himself.

That might have been fine, except the contents were entirely inappropriate for the moment. He started by filling her in on the events of last night: a Weichsen political drama that she, as an outsider, was only too happy to stay out of.

"Well, look on the bright side..."

Sylviane could feel the shoulder beneath her head shift as Pascal turned his expression towards her, prompting her to glance back.

"We are both orphans now," he announced through a somber smile.

"That is really not funny."

"I did not say it was," he protested in his usual drawling speech.

A puzzled frown soon stretched across her countenance. It wasn't like Pascal to make his point in a roundabout way. Being indirect simply didn't fit him, not to mention how hard it would be to guess his intentions, considering how different his thoughts were compared to everyone else.

Thankfully, he also didn't keep her waiting for long:

"You do not like to be pitied, and I do not enjoy it either. Well now, neither of us need to worry about that from the other. We are both alone, yet we both have each other."

"Together, alone?" she echoed back.

Pascal always had an odd way of trying to cheer people up.

"A most contradictory expression, is it not?" His words emerged with the hint of a chuckle.

"What about Kaede then?"

Sylviane had been hesitant to ask. But in the aftermath of the Marshal's death, it was Pascal who had announced to her that he had received a new family member.

"She is the same as us -- no other family or close relations in this world."

"Isn't that your fault?"

"Yes, it is." Pascal admitted plainly. There wasn't even a hint of begrudging denial.

It was yet another virtue where he bested her with ease.

"Yet that is also why I have a responsibility towards her," he asserted before turning to stare into her eyes. "So please, be nice. We are all in the same family now. We have to support each other."

Pascal paused briefly before adding in a nostalgic tone:

"After what happened to me the night I learned of my father's death, I realized there was no way you meant it when you told me to leave. Even if my words and my actions might prove no good at comforting you, my presence alone should be of help."

Sylviane realized then that while she might not have a direct bond with Kaede, the familiar girl had been a pillar for Pascal on several occasions. And the princess was reaping the benefits of that now.

In hindsight that was what defined a family: not mere bonds of blood and matrimony, but a deep sense of trust and mutual, inter-support through hard times. And for that if nothing else, she owed the little girl some kindness and a few gestures of gratitude.

"I know," the princess murmured back before repeating, "I know."

In that moment Sylviane made a promise to herself: regardless of how much she liked or disliked them, those who were Pascal's friends and family also made them her own. She would treat them with the same respect Pascal always extended to her closest companions, like Mari and Robert.

The two of them relied upon one another far too much to do otherwise.

Well, I might still tease her a good amount, she left an honest opening for herself.

"So what do you plan to do next?" Pascal asked after a long moment of silence.

"I... I honestly don't know," Sylviane admitted. "I haven't thought about doing anything except being the Crown Princess for ten years now."

"Do you still want to be?"

"It's not a matter of want or not," she turned to reply as their eyes met once more. "I am a crown princess. It might have begun as simply a mask, but it's who I am now. Even if I'm told to stop..."

"Who told you that?" Pascal's eyebrows went up.

"Can I still be? A princess disowned by her country?" Sylviane commented before her depressed voice seeped back in. "Perhaps the Holy Father doesn't want me..."

"I doubt this is the Holy Father's work." His interjection was stern and instantaneous. "First your father gets excommunicated. And a few weeks later he gets deposed and murdered by the paramilitary branch of the Inquisition, led by a newly anointed 'Defender of the Faith'? This has the avarice of the Church written all over it!"

"Yet... the Holy Father allowed it to happen," the Princess noted dejectedly. "How can you be sure it's not his will then?"

"It is not simply what I think..."

Pascal's words rang earnest as his hand stroked her hair in trying to calm her back down.

"Emperor Geoffroi devoted his life to making Rhin-Lotharingie a better country. As far as I know, he was a ruler loved by his people, and few monarchs could claim to have upheld the crown as dutifully and faithfully as him."

"Besides," he stared at her with utmost seriousness. "Even if he dissatisfied the Holy Father in some way, do you honestly think our Lord's benevolent mercy would bestow such ruin upon Rhin-Lotharingie in the moment of its greatest crisis -- during an invasion of heathen swords?"

No, it doesn't make any sense, Sylviane wanted to agree. But then... what does the Holy Father want of me?

If it was contrary to his will, then why would the Holy Father simply stand by and watch it happen?

"I believe the Holy Father is testing you," Pascal answered as though reading her thoughts. "These are troubled times ahead, and he wishes for Rhin-Lotharingie to be led by someone who is not just willing, but also ready to face the Empire's challenges. A leader who overcomes these trials can ultimately bring your country to greatness. The road ahead may be difficult, but we must have faith that the final goal will be worth the sacrifices."

"You sound like a priest." Sylviane's lips formed a wry, if hesitant smile.

"Must I be a priest to have faith?" Pascal countered with a gentle smile. "Faith is not just accepting what you are told. It is about believing in others: that the Holy Father, in his omnipotent goodness, will always be just and virtuous, even if his mysterious ways are not immediately apparent to our limited view."

"That doesn't sound like you at all," Sylviane remarked in jest.

Pascal might follow the Holy Scriptures, yet she would never tag him as a particularly spiritual man. He was simply too pragmatic, too much in love with understanding the material world.

"Probably because I acquired the saying from Perceval," Pascal shrugged. "He's the healer from the incident at the academy."

Right, one of your new friends, Sylviane thought, unsure of whether she should feel proud or envious. Nevertheless, she finally felt a smile return to her lips as she leaned back into him once more.

"Do you want to know what I think?" Pascal asked next after another moment of comfortable silence.

Of course, he never even waited for her reply:

"Let us go to Rhin-Lotharingie, to Alis Avern. Take back what is rightfully yours. Restore the country to order. Bring vengeance upon those traitors who backstabbed the nation during its hour of peril and murdered their rightful liege in cold blood."

You make it sound so easy. Sylviane thought as she relaxed further into him.

But then, the right path was never easy.

Yet is it the right path to take?

On moments like these, Sylviane wished the Holy Father could be a nudge more obvious with his signs. Though if that were the case, then was the conviction to move forward still her own?

If Pascal was right, if this really was a test, then this was her first hurdle. She must summon her own resolve to take back the throne that was rightfully hers.

"You're right." Sylviane spoke, softly at first before she declared again in a more resolute voice. "You're right. The Holy Father wouldn't simply abandon the Lotharins to crisis and catastrophe. All of this is happening for a reason, and I will not simply fold while the Empire needs me."

She then stared at him, her wisteria eyes locked onto his turquoise gaze:

"I will not abandon the responsibilities that I've spent my whole life learning to uphold."

Pascal smiled. His lips formed a broad grin that stretched from ear to ear.

"That is the spirit of a true Princess!" He remarked with approval. "We can restore your country and destroy your enemies in one decisive stroke! And we can take pleasure in exacting vengeance while doing so!"

"Wrath is a sin, you know," Sylviane raised her only objection.

"So it is." Pascal shrugged it off with ease. "I am human. Have to at least sin a little."

She almost scoffed at that. Almost.

The concept of 'transgress now, repent later' had taken deep roots within the Trinitian faith. It was a growing disease that sapped the morals of its followers, made only worse among the upper class by the abuse of indulgences -- 'forgiveness' and 'salvation' which could now be purchased from the Church at premium cost.

"The Holy Father might dispense clemency to those who lament a moment's carelessness," Sylviane frowned back with a stern reply. "However, that is not the same as purposeful wrongdoing."

"And war is murder, politics is deceit. Yet knowing that, do we not still perform them out of necessity?" Pascal stated as he straightened his posture. "You know what is one lesson that last night taught me? People say revenge leads nowhere. But it felt good, and it felt right to see justice dealt. To see one of my father's murderers receive what he deserved -- nothing could better restore my faith that no matter how dark the night may grow, the light of day will ultimately triumph."

His voice was neither hateful nor malicious. Instead it expressed a thorough satisfaction backed by firm intent, a strong will tempered by raging flames.

"We are not all saints, nor do we live in paradise," he sat up to face her with a steely gaze. "We need that something to keep us going through difficult times, even if it is not entirely virtuous."

Sylviane knew that in many ways, this was Pascal's ego speaking. Before the eyes of the Holy Father, it would serve as little more than an excuse.

Yet, that same self-justified belief was also what made him a confident, decisive leader. It was what gave him the same qualities that she had always craved.

"Does it really feel that good?" She pondered aloud, her voice still shadowed by doubt.

Pascal grinned in response and leaned back against her.

"Better than sex, in fact." He announced in an oddly satisfied tone.

"Uhhh, well... I wouldn't have a basis for that now, would I?" The princess glanced back through narrowed eyes.

Sylviane knew that Pascal wasn't a virgin. However she had also overheard enough gossip from the maids to realize that men having 'experience' should be considered a good thing. At least this way, one of them would enter their wedding night with some idea of what they were doing, rather than leaving her with a scarred memory for life.

Nevertheless...

You could at least avoid saying that in front of a lady!

"Do not fret. We will get to it eventually." He announced with a casual smirk.

Sylviane felt a burning heat rush into her flushed cheeks. As if on reflex, she leaned away to make room as her arm smacked him on the shoulder.

"Ow!" Pascal rushed to rub it at once. "Careful with that! You actually do swing a hammer around!"

"Hmph!"

The embarrassing sight that her imagination had conjured was fuzzy at best. Though it also refused to leave her head.

"A-anyways, what if we don't succeed in reclaiming the Empire's throne?" She banished her thoughts by hurriedly bringing the topic back on track.

"Weeell... as long as we stay alive, we can always return to Nordkreuz," Pascal noted as he turned towards her with a proud grin. "You can always be my wife..."

The urge to hit him again rose like a flash flood as her cheeks reignited at once.

"--However I am certain the Holy Father has more in mind for you than just that."

It was a simple line of words. Yet the unwavering faith it carried pierced her armor of pride with ease. The Princess turned away as she tried to hide her embarrassment. Yet it didn't do her any good. Rather than just her face, Sylviane could feel her entire body heat up from deep within. It felt as though her very heart was melting under his warm gaze.

"Flatterer," she barely whispered out.

"Not flattery if it is honest," he declared without holding back, his words only made her blush worse.

For several minutes, it felt as though she couldn't do anything. Sylviane merely laid there in his arms, her will sapped by a warm glow, content to stay buoyant in the gentle atmosphere.

Yet, there was just one nagging thought that kept trying to climb back up.

"Would you really follow me on an empress' path, wherever I go, whatever it takes?"

Sylviane hadn't spent years in self-doubt to recover under a single moment of kindness.

"Of course, I will accompany you anywhere," Pascal asserted, reminding her that 'Prince Consort' or not, he would not accept being a mere subordinate. "After all, I am not just your fiancé."

Her puzzled frown returned as she wondered what he meant by that.

"Do you remember eleven years ago, when I asked you 'what is the most important trait for a general?'"

They had countless discussions back then, yet Sylviane still felt the nostalgia as Pascal resurrected one of his favorite topics.

"Courage and decisiveness," she offered the same answer as years past. "I am a Lotharin after all. Oriflammes first, always."

"And I debated 'cunning, guile, and vision'. After all, it took far more than bravery to win wars."

However Pascal no longer sounded sure of himself. It was as though his idea was yet another relic of the past.

"Have you changed your belief to something else?"

"After yesterday? Yes." Pascal spoke, before taking a brief pause, to reflect upon a day during which he had seen and done so much.

"Dedication and loyalty, to his country, to his people," Pascal then declared without any inkling of doubt. "War is only ever a means to an aim, and that aim must be worthy as a cause. After my father was murdered, every soldier of Weichsel mourned for the passing of a hero who would go down in history. Meanwhile Manteuffel had no such dedication. He cared only for his ambitions, and as such the only legacy he would leave behind is the accursed name of a traitor -- all his brilliance brought him nothing more than a passage straight to hell."

Sylviane kept her silence for the moment. She wasn't sure the circumstances were as simple as Pascal claimed it to be. After all, politics rarely unfolded as it appeared on the surface.

But now was not the time.

"Father had hoped for me to become the general of a new era. He wanted me to bridge Weichsel and Rhin-Lotharingie, our nations which share historic ties and geopolitical interests."

A fire seemed to ignite in his eyes as he turned to Sylviane in a solemn oath:

"That is my only wish by your side, and I swear I will uphold it until my dying day."

It was as off-putting as it was reassuring. To swear an unwavering, personal loyalty to her would be the moment of romantic legends. Yet that was not how events unfolded in real life. Those who followed blindly only degraded themselves as fools. The truly dependable ones were those who upheld a righteous ideal of their own.

As a woman, Sylviane knew she had Pascal's affection. But as an Empress-to-be, she would have to work hard to stay worthy of his devotion.

It was in moments like these when Sylviane realized: Pascal really did bring out the best in her.

Nevertheless, the world did have a mind of its own. Political circumstances change. And Sylviane couldn't help but worry as she asked:

"What if the alliance fractures?"

"If those in Weichsel seek to break the alliance, then they are my foes." Pascal replied without a moment of hesitation. "I will not take up arms against my state of birth. But the same does not apply to those who lead it."

It was a statement that could be construed as treason if heard by the wrong ears. Yet, it was also a sign of just how committed Pascal was.

"And if I did?" Sylviane raised the possibility, however unlikely so long as she held Pascal's support.

The smile he replied through was a bittersweet challenge:

"You will have to kill me first."