The Castle of Oblivion was aptly, if dramatically, named.

Within the prison’s dark walls, it felt like nothing could escape, as if sunlight and free air had never existed at all. Grime and filth covered the walls, large rats and insects scurried across the ground. Far away, the screams and cries of the damned could be heard even through the thick stone walls. It was unsavory, to say the least.

The guards accompanying Roshani opened a door and she walked through. It was not a large room, but not claustrophobic as Roshani had heard of some of the other cells. Only two torches hung up on the wall served as illumination. They cast flickering shadows across the walls.

The room was divided in two by a metal grate- inside the cell, behind the rusty bars, sat Katayoun Jamshid, mother of the late shah and former Queen regent of the empire.

“Leave us,” Roshani commanded. The guards exited without a word, and the door shut heavily behind them.

Katayoun sat in the middle of her cell, legs crossed and back straight. Ever sitting as if upon a throne.

She hasn’t been treated badly here, other than the disgusting state of the prison itself. She had been fed and clothed, allowed to move freely rather than burdened by chains. It had been mere weeks since the overthrow, but Katayoun seemed to have aged by years in that time. The wrinkles of her face had deepened into permanent creases, and her silver-gray hair was tangled and unkempt. Roshani wondered at how the old woman still managed to keep her bony frame so postured.

She wore a royal dress of dark blue, a simple one but still pretty. She had been stripped of all finery, except for her gold-trimmed veil and a simple emerald medallion hanging around her long neck.

Her eyes seemed to bore into Roshani’s soul, the bright blue irises like pools of blue flames. Roshani ignored the glare and sat across from her.

“Hello, grandmother,” She said.

Katayoun’s sharp blue eyes met Roshani’s brown ones.

“Roshani,” She said in a clipped tone. “Or must I call you Shahbanu now?”

Roshani disregarded the question. She had learned by now that rising to Katayoun’s bait would do her no good.

She had visited the old woman a few times since deposing the shah. By all appearances, it was in order to seek her counsel and persuade her into serving the new shah. Though Roshani did try to seek Katayoun’s help, these visits were more for her own personal benefit.

Katayoun was the only member of her family left who understood her, and could still accept her despite her betrayal. Roshani couldn’t trust her- she could hardly trust anyone these days- but she was comforted by the visits nonetheless.

“Here.” Roshani withdrew a flask of wine. The sharp, pungent scent of it mixed with the odor of the grimy cell. She pushed the flask towards Katayoun. “I can’t imagine they’ve thought to give you anything to drink.”

Katayoun merely eyed the bottle with an expression as dry as the wine, then lifted her gaze to Roshani. Roshani clenched her fist at her side, but continued on.

“Homeira nearly escaped,” Roshani told her. “With Kasra. They were caught on the docks of the port, trying to catch a vessel for Karaj.”

Katayoun didn’t outwardly react to the news. Roshani knew better though. It must be killing her to hear that they had been so close to escape and failed.

“And?” That Katayoun deigned to speak at all was proof that her heart was not as unaffected as it appeared.

“Homeira has been arrested,” Roshani said. “Her execution is set for ten days hence.”

Katayoun stiffened, waiting to hear the fate of her youngest grandson. Roshani saw the tint of fear behind her eyes, and her own heart began to burn with anger and pain. Did she think Roshani was such a monster that she’d butcher her own baby brother in his crib? This woman, the grandmother that she’d loved and respected, who had practically raised her after her own mother’s death- how could she be so quick to think Roshani was capable of such evil?

It made her blood boil, even as her heart broke a little bit inside.

“I have decided that I will raise Kasra as my own,” Roshani continued, her voice holding a slight strain that hadn’t been there before. “He will be next in line for the throne- first prince of the empire and my heir apparent. I have already made the proclamation.”

The fear in Katayoun’s posture dissipated, replaced by surprise and mistrust. She still doubted that Roshani could have such mercy within her.

“How can you live with yourself?” Katayoun’s voice was fire forged steel, sharp and hot. Roshani couldn’t help but flinch back. “You have assured that that boy will live a life of pain and turmoil- raised by the woman who murdered his mother and father.”

Roshani threw her head back and laughed. “How can I live with myself?” She repeated. She stopped laughing, her voice turning hard again. “How could my father live with himself, having killed his wife on false accusations? How do you live with yourself, grandmother, having aided your youngest son in killing his father and brothers in order to take the crown?”

Katayoun did not react. Roshani sneered.

“How do I live with myself? Don’t make me laugh.” Her fists clenched tight at her side. “You look at me like I’m a monster, but I’m only a reflection of your own selfish violence and greed. I’m no different than you are, no different than father, or grandfather, or any other Jamshid who has taken the throne with blood and fire.”

Roshani’s voice broke. “So why? Why do you act as if I’m so much more horrible, cruel, and evil? Why?”

Katayoun’s eyes softened, her wrinkled face seeming to sag with sorrow and disappointment.

“Because you were supposed to be different, Roshani,” She said. “Since the beginning of the empire, the Jamshid dynasty has been fraught with betrayal and violence. It was too late for me to change that inevitability. It was too late for your father.” She took a deep, rattling breath. “And now I see that it was too late for you.”

Roshani stared at her for a moment. The air seemed to crackle between them. Roshani stared across the cell at her grandmother, seeing a lined face so like her own but hardened by time, by the things she had seen. A face fresh with disappointment, with resignation. No matter, how much Roshani wished she remained unaffected by it, she’d be lying to herself. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her shoulders tensing.

After a long silence, Katayoun spoke. “I should have done more then.” Her voice was hoarse with the tears she was holding back, every word tinged with regret. Roshani’s entire body froze. “I should have convinced your father to spare her, if I could. But I was a coward. I thought they would turn on me next.” She shook her head mournfully. “I didn’t know- couldn’t have known- what it would do to you. Roshani, your mother would have-“

“Don’t.” In one swift motion, Roshani’s arm toppled the flask of wine, spilling its contents onto the ground. “Don’t talk about what my mother would have wanted.” The clay cask cracked as it struck the cold floor. The dark red liquid seeped into the stone, staining it the color of blood. Roshani was breathing hard, straining to repress the memories trying to spring free, the guilt threatening to her inside out. She could feel Katayoun’s gaze on her, could feel her surprise at the sudden outburst. Roshani’s stomach flipped unpleasantly, nausea suddenly overtaking her. She couldn’t stand to talk about the past anymore.

Roshani stood to her feet with a flourish of her skirts. Her jewels and adornments felt heavy on her all of a sudden, like weights that only staid aloft because she held them up.

“You’re wrong,” Roshani said as she turned and strode away from the old woman in the dark cell. “I am different.” A guard opened the cell door with a metallic screech. “I’m stronger than you or father ever were.” The door shut closed behind her.