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She ran her fingers along the wax seal one final time, enjoying the raised bump of her family crest, before succumbing to curiosity and breaking it. The letter was heavy parchment—higher quality than anything she could have easily gotten in Britannia. This should be interesting, in one way or another. No black ribbon trailed, so no word of a death to the family, God be praised. As for the rest? She took a deep breath and unrolled the tightly bound parchment.

For a moment, the letter was incomprehensible—Greek letters, not the Latin words that she had employed these past eight years. Caitlynn laughed softly to herself. Silly to think that I might have forgotten how to read my own language, but I hadn't realized how long it had been! She considered the prospect of attempting to spread Greek throughout her kingdom before dismissing it. Latin had been difficult enough to encourage, and she doubted if more than one peasant in ten had stopped using their native Britonic.

Queenly matters settled, the daughter of the House of Bellisarius began to read the letter to herself, more slowly than she liked at first, but with increasing speed as the once-familiar letters re-established themselves in the forefront of her mind.

Caitlynn, sister—

Greetings from Greece! I hope this letter finds you well and safe. If that satisfies the bounds of formality, I truly hope this does not offend! I was only a little girl when you left Athens, of course, but every day I pass by your old room and wonder how you fare in the kingdom of the barbarians. Do they really only bathe once a year? Father says that is true, but you know how he can be. He told me once that sheep are aggressive and dangerous, and to never…

An ink blot after the word—where it seemed her sister—would it be Tamria or the younger Flavia? Caitlynn wouldn't have characterized Tamria as a 'little girl' at eleven when she left, so Flavia did seem the more likely—it seemed that Flavia had changed her mind and tried to scratch out the word as one would in a wax tablet. At this, Caitlynn openly smiled. She had done that, and more than once, early on in Britannia. She read on.

I apologize for the above, sister. This parchment is expensive, Father says, and I can't have another piece. He doesn't know what this is for though; no one does. I suspect that he thinks I'm using it to plan the wedding or write a note to Lysander. Oh! Now I've spoiled it already. I was hoping to surprise you. I am to be wed!

Caitlynn looked away for a moment, tears filling her eyes for a moment. Somehow, in her mind, her sisters had stayed the same age, living the same life that they had when she left for Britannia. But Flavia would be fifteen then, which meant that Tamria was already likely married. Perhaps even with a baby on the way, if God was kind to her. But now Flavia as well, it seemed. She blinked the tears away and sniffed, glad that Julianus had left her to read alone.

The wedding date is for the final day of June. Mother has complained, of course, that all the flowers will be withering and it will be impossible to find a fresh rose to wear in my hair. You know how she is. Or, I suppose, you knew how she was? She hasn't changed, sister; I can assure you of that!

Caitlynn swallowed hard and forced her eyes down the page.

I am approaching the end of this parchment, as you can see, so I must make this short, sister. Would you come to the wedding? If it's possible, I mean. You might have battles to fight or hold court or whatever it is that you have to do as Queen. But if you can, I can think of nothing that would make me happier on that day.

But even if you can't, I pray for your happiness in Britannia and hope to someday see you again.

Yours, Flavia Bellisarius.

In tiny letters, as a postscript, she had also written

Also, are YOU married? Do you have babies? I can scarcely imagine you as a wife or mother! Even if you can't come to the wedding, will you write back?

Guilt flooded Caitlynn from all directions, and every sight and sound in the room seemed to accuse her. She had never so much as written to her parents upon arriving in Britannia, much less thought to invite them to visit. She suspected they had kept up with her in some way, through rumors and merchant gossip if nothing else, but what a failure she was as a daughter. She attempted to justify in her own mind why she had been too busy, but it was a deception, and she knew it.

Caitlynn Bellisarius looked upon the parchment lying on the table, the angular Greek script a reminder of all she had been. But perhaps, she still was. Perhaps part of her was that daughter of Athens still. She paced the room, discarding possibilities, schedules, and potential problems, casting glances periodically at the letter. At last, she stopped and picked up the parchment again, eyes moving down to one particular passage.

The final day of June, it said. A month at sea, perhaps, and she could be in Greece in time. If she dared leave Britannia. If she were secure enough in her role as wife. If, and she winced at the thought, she was secure enough to withstand the lecture her mother would surely give her for the eight years without contact.

Caitlynn had seen battle before. She would be as brave in this as those men had been then. Arrangements would have to be made, of course. Perhaps Julianus would stay as Regent, or Leonidas. Details could be forged and adapted over the next day. But there was one fact that was as real as the parchment in her hand:

Caitlynn Bellisarius was returning home to see her sister's wedding.