She could always count on Nicholai to go with whatever she wanted, and whatever she needed. In a way, she guessed it was becoming innate to Nicholai, for the male had, afterall, watched over her for the past decade or so, and had practically watched her grow up. His presence by her side was like a shadow, and even when she was not with him, Nicholai would ensure that she was well guarded by a slew of men he had trained himself. There was a reason why her sister and Minas trusted Nicholai with her life, and in them, Emilia trusted as well.

Her flinch had brought attention, the sort that Emilia knew she shouldn't have. Having Nicholai's touch on her comforted her, the warmth of his finger familiar even through the fabric of her thick materials.

But another hand on her shoulder surprised her, though once the brunette had ascertained who the owner of the digits were, she managed a brief, soft smile. Aimias was a long-standing installment within the palace, be it as advisor to her father, or of more recent years, to her sister. Whichever it was, the elder male had almost always had a kind word to her, or a soft smile that reminded her much of Minas himself. His soft nature was reminiscient of her sire, and in that Emilia found comfort, for Aimias seemed to always know what to say.

"I understand, Aimias." Her head tilted up to the burning pyre, her cheeks slightly sallow from the events of late. She really did, and in a way, Emilia guessed she should find some comfort in the fact that Minas no longer had to be handled with all the physicians and consumed copious amounts of herbs and concoctions everyday. That he could finally be together with their mother was perhaps the greatest comfort of all. But it did not diminish the fact that she and Persephone was now, effectively, orphans. "Thank you, for always helping him and Persephone, Aimias." Tilting her head up to the advisor, she offered him a soft smile, a hint of the young princess within.

The lament of the soft singers accompanied the remainder of the burning, the flames growing to a great wall as the remaining of the wood caught on. Cracks and groans could be heard as the flames ate up everything it was given, until at some point all that could be burnt, had been done so, and only at that point, did the flames begin to die. Along with them, the song died, and only then did she give Aimias's arm a squeeze, before turning to Nicholai.

"Bring me home."