She was finally there. All these hard work, all these sacrifices were not in vain, she was there where she was meant to be. "Jeanne Jeanne Jeanne, why can't you just stay dead? How many times must a get rid of you? Maybe this time if I do it myself, you can finally stay dead." She could see the insanity, slowly seeping in to him, his eyes and her soul. He was a cracked soul just like those before him. She just looked at him, and before his eyes, adjusted comfortably in the once golden now broken throne. This is the very throne room that they were engaged. Before the betrayal before the great war. The throne is finally occupied by its rightful heir. The broken moonlight shone onto the throne as if a spotlight, the few spots of throne glistened a golden glow and her ebony hair reflected a halo like crown of reflection. "You didn't think that this throne actually belonged to you. Right?" She smiled yet her eyes did not copy the same intension. He felt a surge of anger, humiliate sweep through him. "What do you mean, Echetillion, you think that by having a mere disowned Vanidestine, you are now the heir? " He seethed. "You seem to have mistaken, Abreo. The throne is determined by the purity of blood, not by how many allies or supporters you have. It's about time that the Crown Empire returned to its era a few centuries back." "Don't you think" she said, swinging her legs into a comfortable folding position, vermillion lips curling into a confident smile.