Caitlyn takes a deep breath, steeling her nerves and emotions, and pushes through the front door of her childhood estate, one that, in its impressive size, only houses her father. Inside, it's quiet as usual, and a maid greets her in the door. She promptly walks past the worker and up the marble stairs. She can feel her fists clenching.

Two years ago, her mother had passed. The counsel building had been bombed, killing several, including Cassandra. The wound was still fresh, seeing as she never properly dealt with her grief or emotions. But really, did she ever?

Ever since the incident, she'd become leader of House Kiramman, with an impossible weight on her shoulders. A weigh she'd known all her life. The pressure never alleviated. Her father fell into disarray, and, since the war, so had she. Though she was doing better now, there were still many things left unresolved.

Slowly, she walks into her childhood bedroom. It was clean and untouched, just how she'd left it. There were a few personal touches, but mostly it remained impossibly bare. There was a vase of Violets in the windowsill, and that was about the only sign of life. She sat on her bed, sighing.

The sheets were the same, and all at once, the emotions flooded back. Caitlyn's eyes filled with tears, spilling over. She was twenty five, and still crying into her childhood sheets. Everything was different now, and yet, not much had changed.

That's whens she remembered she'd come here with her wife, Vi. She stood quietly in the doorway, observing.