Broad rough finger pads gently brushed the soft pale skin of his daughter's cheek. Tucking a lock of her dark mahogany hair behind her ear. It most have been disturbed from place when her pillow was refreshed for a new one by the servant? Alehandros was not sure. Perhaps his dear Marietta tossed and turned in her death like sleep when no one was looking? He was not sure of this either. 

For days now, Alehandros's gut was wrenched with fear at the possibility that he may loose his second eldest daughter. The best physicians of Asclepius he could afford and summon from Attia and anywhere else to tend his household after the hell of the riots. Everyone in the estate seemed to need a physician and everyone was on the mend. That is.. besides one.

His dear Marietta. The quiet one. The meek one, no one seemed to fully understand. The one no one thought could do much beyond paint and play music and look pretty while blushing. But she had proven why she was an Antonis. She had selflessly saved her little sister. No matter the cost, she have shown her bravery and protected that of which she loved first before self preservation could kick in. A true Antonis. 

Alone in the room with her, Alehandros knelt at her bedside. She was so pale and fragile looking. Not moving at all. Just shallowing breathing. The physicians said they could do nothing more for her. They'd wrapped any wounds of the flesh and had the servants change the bandages when necessary but they did not know what they could do to wake her. Smelling salts did nothing or any other remedy known to wake a sleeping person. Nothing had worked. 

By the gods was this how he was suppose to lose what he loved? Slowly watch them slip from existence in the sleep of the dead till her chest stopped rising anymore? 

With everything else he was dealing with, trying his best to get the kingdom in order through helping Princess Emilia do what her sister couldn't. To trying to see what his provinces could do to help with food shortages in any way and rooting out any more deceit done by the Stravos heir. He was suppose to also witness one of his daughters die as well? How cruel could the gods really be? 

Alehandros feared to even think about it. The gods had their reasons and mortals were not worthy to know them. 

Sighing deeply, and letting the tears drip down into his beard, Alehandros bent down and kissed her cheek softly. "The world still shines bright and is worth still seeing, even after man's turmoil. Please do not take Hermes hand for the journey to Hades realm. I love you to much to lose you Marietta." He whispered softly in her ear before standing and slowly departing from her room...

Sleep. What was that? He had been looking into the darkness of their bedroom chambers for hours. His arm protectively wrapped around his wife as she was curled up to his side. He felt so dumb. So lost. These were the only times he was allowed to sulk to himself. If that's what you could call it. When demands were not being made of him. When he was suppose to be sleeping to rest for the next day of trials. 

But he couldn't sleep. He did not know when he actually did anymore. Maybe a catnap just before dawn some days? He was even losing weight from the last few weeks of barely eating and barely sleeping. Did anyone but him notice? Sotiria most likely. She did do her best to get him to at least eat once a day, didn't she? The days blended so much he didn't know anymore. 

Unable to stare as darkness anymore and unable to shut his mind off. He kissed the top of Sotiria's head, "I'll be back, checking on our daughters." His low voice was soft as he told her. Assuming she was a sleep as he carefully untangled himself from her arms and the bed. 

Slipping into each daughter's room, his ability of silent stealth acquired from his youth, still was present as he was able to sneak in. Make sure his girls were well, lay a kiss on each of their cheeks before going to the next daughter. The internal pain he had every time he seen the injuries that his girls had, destroyed him a little bit every time. How had he not been able to get them collected up and to safety in time when the first screams of a riot was starting? 

Last but not least, Alehandros returned to Marietta's room. The cold chilling grasp of fear stiffening down his spine as he sat next to her again. He was use to soldiers dyeing, ones that were trained and meant for battle. They had always known death was the risk. He firmly knew what is was like to be at the side of a dyeing person but nothing was as terrifying as being at the bedside of his own daughter. She was not bleeding out to death or gasping for breath from a sickness as she slowly died. 

No. She was simply just laying there. No movement. As if asleep like any normal slumber. The eeriness was terrifying in itself alone as he scooped up her limp hand and clasped it in both of his. Pressing the back of her knuckles with his lips and closed his eyes. Alehandros began to pray softly to every god and goddess that he hoped would hear his pleas. The amount of sacrifices Alehandros had made every day to the gods, between all his duties he had to do, never felt like it was enough to get them to hear him. Was it to much to ask that his daughter lives?