"Princess the coach is ready." Marda said, as young Wanda entered the room and nodded, taking her place along the wall with the other house staff.

Marda remembered her first years serving as a member of the castle staff. Having to run those stairs to nod to that old hag Reena. Wanda no more than 15, wasn't even winded and not for the first time Marda was glad to have her position at this age. Her mouth twitched at the idea of running those stairs herself now.

"What is it Marda?" The Princess had caught her twitching and a sly smile said she had some idea as to what the reaction had been from.

"I started as a runner for the stable master when I was a young girl." Marda said as she signaled the attendants to start opening the doors and raised her arm to let Princess Galla go ahead of her.

"Oh yes, I remember and the memory of those stairs was clear in your grimace at little Wanda." Princess Galla said as she made her way out of the doorway and into the long hallway of the royal bedroom wing. Marda couldn't see it but she well knew the smirk painted across her royal lady's face was entirely too smug over the thought of Marda running those stairs now.

"To the lake today my Lady?" Marda said, changing the subject. It had been a day or two longer than usual and Marda was a little worried by that in truth. "Would she still go if I wasn't around to insist on it?" Marda wondered to herself.

"Yes, to the lake." Galla replied, her melodic tone not giving away her sadness at the thought of visiting the place, even so long after. Though Marda often saw it in her eyes, such a pain was not so easily hidden from someone she'd known nearly her entire life.

The carriage ride of course was as bumpy as always. Marda remembered a time when the paving stones of the lake road hadn't been felt in her bones and back. But even that seemed many years ago now. The snorting and shifting of the horses and the guards alongside the carriage distracted her enough to put the pains out of mind. Watching a younger looking fellow with a spectacular jaw line under his helmet, bounce along beside her window. She very likely was three or four times his age but that motion..

"Marda you're no better than a wolf leering at sheep." Princess Galla shattered her thoughts. Marda looked up to her ruler and saw the joy of having caught her in such a moment.

"Princess I'm not dead yet. This mind is still willing even if the flesh has grown weak." Marda chuckled as she said it, a bright smile letting the Princess know she wasn't about to back down on this topic.

Galla sighed "I suppose one could say I have the opposite issue Marda. Or neither really. If you weren't here I wouldn't make this trip, I'd be no better than that first day."

Marda lowered her eyes, her smile slipping away. She knew the truth of it really, that the Princess would likely always be that same broken girl. Never letting go of what was lost.

"One day at a time my Lady. There is no need to rush such things." Marda reached across the carriage and squeezed the Princess's hand. "No need to rush it at all, someday, some bright and beautiful day. But there's no rush."

Marda remembered the day it happened. When the Princesses betrothed went and got himself killed, fighting an evil deity of all things. Him, the King and nearly every man able to hold a stick on this side of the continent. She remembered how it had broken Galla. Remembered how she had grown sick and pale, how she had become bed ridden and refused to eat. When she had asked to be taken to the meadow one last time, Marda had been sure it was the last few days she would be in the service of the princess.

"Lake ahead." Shouted the captain of the guard from ahead. Breaking Marda out of her reminiscing mood. She'd done this once a week, for how many years? Why was today such a trip down memory lane?

The carriage stopped and the box was placed at the door as the two climbed out of the carriage. The guards knew to make a wide circle around the edges of the meadow, their backs turned away. The attendants went about sweeping any leaves or debris that had blown in off the lake or from the forest, out of the small seating area. And began assisting Princess Galla in removing her clothing.

Marda gazed out at the lake, clear calm waters disappearing across the horizon. The Lake of Tears.

Galla had shed her clothing and her naked skin seemed to merge with the mirror film of the lakes surface.

The magic that so long ago poured from her own eyes, over the battlefield of her dead lover and father and half her kingdom, sparked and spiraled across her skin. Marda remembered the day so long ago, when a girl only a few years older than her had wept so true in mourning that the magics of a dead god responded. That same magic inspired by her then, now kept her young when all others faded. Marda had been the stable runner then, 14 years old, joining what all thought would be the last outing for a dying royal. Now, now she was soon to be 70 and Princess Galla hadn't aged a single day.

Marda sat down on the wooden bench by the water, watching the Princess soak in the magic of a dead god and relaxing knowing she had at least an hour to herself while Galla soaked in dead god soup, she turned her head to see if she could find the back end of that spectacular jaw line from earlier.