Six Months Ago in New Cyre...

Sobbing drew Prince Oargev's  attention to the a merchant's wagon along the road. A young woman with brown hair was slumped against the wagon. Standing above her the bushy bearded merchant looked like he wasn't sure whether to try to comfort her or pack up his wagon and leave town as quickly as possible. Oargev dismounted his horse, handed the reins to his retainer, and strode toward the scene, his bodyguards following a pace behind.
As the Prince approached the merchant's eyes grew large and he hastily spoke, "I swear I didn't do anything m'lord! I just asked if she was interested in any of the dresses and she started crying!"
Oargev raised his hand placatingly, "I believe you good sir, leave her to me." Relieved, the merchant backed away slowly as if the crying woman would explode at any moment. Meanwhile, the Prince sat down in the dirt next to her. These breakdowns happened to the Cryans. The sight or sound of something familiar might trigger painful memories of what they'd lost and overwhelm them. While attending a diplomatic event in Wroat last year, Oargev smelled his mother's perfume and had to hastily excuse himself. In his private guest room the Prince cried for over an hour as his pent up suffering and loss all came out at once.
He put his arm around the crying woman and she clung tight to his shoulder. After five minutes or so her sobbing started to subside a little and he ventured conversation, "Isabelle right?" He felt her nod slightly against his arm. As he thought, this was Isabelle ir'Lara. Probably the last of her house given that her family was in Kalazart during The Mourning. Isabelle had joined the military and was serving as a scout at the Brelish front under Oargev's command. Both of them had been in harm's way at the frontlines of the war while their kin were safe in the Cyran interior. But thanks to dark irony they were now the only survivors of their family.
Eventually Isabelle spoke but it was too muffled to hear. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch that," Oargev said. This triggered a fresh round of sobs and he rubbed her back. "Take your time, I'm not going anywhere." Finally she tried again and this time he understood.
"I wish I'd died with my family."
The Prince wasn't surprised. He'd felt the same way on occasion but he reminded himself that thousands of survivors were depending on him and he couldn't afford to indulge in self-pity. But Isabelle, along with most of the refugees, had no purpose. They were wasting away, pitied or ignored by the other nations.
"We have people depending on us Isabelle. The Cyran people are relying on us to give them a new home. I'm putting together a new mission to do just that and they'll need veterans like yourself. I have to warn you though, it will be dangerou-"
"I'll do it." The forcefulness surprised him. She looked at him with clear eyes.
"I didn't finish telling you what the mission was."
"I don't care, I'll do it." There was something in her voice that made his blood run cold. This was no mere survivor's guilt, Isabelle had a death wish. But if he rescinded his offer doubtless she'd be New Cyre's next suicide within a month. And he'd already been planning to recruit her, the Cyran Expeditionary Force would need her skills. The Prince just hoped she developed a new reason to live before she found a way to sacrifice herself.