ARTIZEA
ARTIZEA STOOD BENEATH THE OAK TREE OF THE OUTER PASTOR. This had been where she and Eric shared their first kiss. Time changed nothing; its branches still cast long shadows across the ground.
"I still remember the day you swore yourself to me. You said you would follow me to the death… even if it was by my own hand," she whispered. In her hands, she held the helm that had once belonged to Eric in her dirt filled hands, the man who had betrayed her but whom she had still cared for. She knelt down and gently placed the helm next to the newly filled grave she had dug herself, her movements deliberate and slow."I will always love you…" she choked out, her voice trembling upon reaching for a handful of earth and scattering it over the helm. trembling as the tears she had been holding back threatened to spill. The sound of boots crunching against the earth made her stiffen.
"I came to apologize." Arthur said softly, Eric was…"
"You dare call his name after erasing it?" Her anger faltered, replaced by a wave of overwhelming grief. "After taking him from his grandmother, His sister—" She froze for a moment, then slowly rose to her feet. Turning to face him, her red eyes met his, blazing with pain and fury. "What is the point of an apology now? In case you have not realized, He's dead, Arthur," she echoed bitterly.
Another wave of regret hits him along with images of Cesealia, brother-less.
"I hope, in time, you can forgive me."
"I do not know if I can."
"Sister." Arthur pleaded.
"Save it!" she snapped, her voice breaking.
Arthur flinched but stood his ground. "I thought I was doing what was right—"
"You thought wrong!" she shouted, her voice breaking. "You always think you can solve everything with a sword." Her expression softened, "By killing without first justice."
"I know," he said quietly. "I know I was wrong. It was not justice, I see that now." He breathed out, "Maybe that is why I would never be cut out to be king. Maybe that is why Father fought for you instead of me. You are the stronger one between the two of us in every way that matters."
Silence remained safe for the wind rustled through the leaves above. Then she moved, running into her brother's arms as tears spilled freely down her face. He held her, his own tears falling, and with every shared drop came a quiet understanding. Despite the rift between them, they were still siblings.
When they broke apart, Artizea turned back to the grave. "I need you to do something for me, Arthur," she mumbled quietly, while retrieving the helm.
"Anything,"
Artizea rose once more and, without meeting his eyes, pushed the helmet toward him, "Give this… to his family," she whispered. "And tell them the truth, they deserve that."
Arthur stared at it for a moment before subconsciously reaching out, fingers curling around the steel. He nodded, "I will." He said quietly. He must.
ARTHUR
Arthur found himself standing at the door of the small house. Something was missing. Eric was gone, but the warmth that once filled the home seemed dulled. He knocked once.
Cesealia answered from inside. "Come in!"
Badum.
Arthur's heart cracked when he walked in, seeing her standing at the kitchen counter, her back to him as she sliced herbs for supper.
It was only when the sound of the door closing echoed through the air that she briefly looked over her shoulder. "You can leave the fruit on the counter…" Her face paled with surprise when she saw him. "Arthur—Is it your free day already? Have you heard from Eric?"
Ba-dum—ba-dum
Arthur froze. At the mention of his name, his heart sank further every second he hesitated, "Cesealia, we need to talk."
Ceaselia set the knife down and walked toward him, tiptoeing toward his lips, but he stepped back. Her expression shifted, "Is something wrong?" She saw the flicker of pain in his eyes and stepped closer. "Arthur," she said slowly, "What is it?"
He exhaled shakily, forcing himself to meet her gaze. "… Eric's gone."
The words seemed to freeze the air between them.
"I know, the crown sent him on a mission to the eastern continents—"
Ba-dum—ba-dum. Ba-dum—ba-dum—
He shook his head, throat tightening. "That was a cover-up. He never left."
Cesealia's chest rose sharply, breath shallow as the weight of his words settled like stone in her ribs. "W-what do you mean?" she whispered. "A cover-up for what?"
Arthur's fingers curled tightly around the worn strap of the satchel. For a moment, he could not bring himself to speak. Then, slowly, he pulled the helmet free, the metal cold between his shaking hands. He held it out to her, the faintest tremble in his grip. "For his death," he forced out, voice low, hoarsely.
Cesealia took the helmet with a delayed reaction. "What..?" she forced out.
Badum. Ba-dum—ba-dum. Badum.
"He was killed…"
Ba-dum ba-dum
"Who! Who would do such a thing?!" her confusion giving way to anger.
Badum. Ba-dum—ba-dum. Badum. Badum
"It was me!" Arthur grunted out, the words burning on his tongue. He had rehearsed this in his mind countless times, yet now, standing before her, it had felt impossible to say. Finally, he forced the truth out. "I killed him," he whispered.
The room seemed to collapse in on itself. Cesealia stared at him, her mouth slightly open as if she could not comprehend what she had just heard.
"… no…"
"I-I…" Arthur said quickly, his voice trembling. "I had no choice."
Cesealia hand gripped the edge of the counter. "No," she shook her head."Why…?" she breathed out.
"He sullied Artizea's name. He spoke about her as if she were a common whore—" he paused, taking a deep breath and steaming himself, then tried again. "He degraded her, mocked her, and disrespected the crown. He knew the consequences, Cesealia. I know it was not justice…but I-"
Her face twisted in disbelief, her hands shaking. "After everything? After you two made peace? After I asked you to show mercy—Not even a trial?"
"What fair trial do you think he would have had? I did not wish for it to come to this."
"But it did!" she shouted, her voice cracking. "You killed the man who grew up with us, who protected me when no one else could! Not even you! The fearless Prince Arthur!"
"You will be compensated…"
"Oh, Fuck —you, and your coin," Her voice broke, and she took a step back, as if the space between them was not enough. "When?" she whispered, her eyes filling with tears.
"Last night," Arthur admitted.
Her laugh was hollow, filled with disbelief. "Get out," she said coldly, her tears now falling freely.
"Cesealia—"
"Get. Out," she repeated with both rage and heartbreak. "I care not if I insulted the first Prince of the realm or the King," she scoffed, "There's nothing else he can do to hurt me anyway."
Arthur stared at her for a moment. Then, with a heavy breath, he turned and walked out, the door closing softly behind him.
Rosetta entered the kitchen a moment later, her sharp eyes taking in the scene. She saw the knife lying abandoned on the counter, the herbs scattered, and Cesealia trembling, her hands pressed to her face.
"Oh, my dear," Rosetta said softly, pulling her granddaughter into a warm embrace.
Cesealia sobbed into her shoulder, her words muffled and broken. "Why are you not upset?" she asked.
Her grandmother sighed, her expression both weary and understanding. "If what Arthur said was true," she said gently, "Then what he did was mercy."
She pulled back, her tear-streaked face filled with disbelief. "Mercy?"
"Yes," Rosetta said firmly. "The king was not the man you see today. He was the blood-red king in my youth, and his father before him was a monster. If Eric sullied the Crown Princess's name, then he dishonored the King, who had yet to father a child. Eric's fate was sealed the moment those words left his mouth. Arthur did not have a choice. If he had not done it, someone else would have, and it would not have been quick or clean."
Cesealia shook her head, her heart aching. She wiped her face, her anger still simmering but tempered by her grandmother's words. "It does not make it right. Day in and out, we slave away for their precious protection, yet they kill us off anyway…it is not fair—"
Rosetta held her tighter. "Life rarely is, dearest."
Ba-dum—ba-Ba, Ba-dum—ba-dum. Ba-dum—ba-dum, Ba-dum—ba-dum
The servants stepped aside, bowing as their Prince passed, but he was moving too fast to see or hear them. His boots echoed sharply on the marble. The stairs felt uneven beneath him. His hand ghosted the railing for balance, jaw clenched, heart thudding too loudly to hear his breath.
Eric was sharpening his sword when Arthur entered the knightguard quarters. He stepped closer, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "You sullied my sister's name. And worse, you sullied her."
"I would never—"
Ba-dum.
"Do not." Arthur snapped, his voice cutting through the air like steel. "You have toyed with her long enough."
Eric's jaw clenched."It was not like that—"
"I do not care…" Arthur interrupted, "And before you suggest, I do not have all the facts; I regrettably do," pulling a small leather pouch from his belt. The metallic jingle of coins inside seemed deafening in the tense silence.
Eric stared at the pouch in confusion."What is that?"
"You have always wanted to see the world, right? This is enough gold to last you four years. I care for what you do with it or where it ends up, just so long as it entails you starting a life far away from here. Far away from her. From—Me." He growled.
Ba-dum, Ba-dum
Eric's eyes widened. "You are sending me away?"
Arthur stepped closer, "I am saving your ass," his gaze unwavering. "I should kill you for what you have done," shoving the pouch into Eric's chest. "Take it. Leave. If I ever see you again, if I hear you so much as breathe a word about her, I will hunt you down like the Dog you are. There will be no mercy a second time. Am I making myself clear?"
Eric held his gaze to the Prince he once called brother, the weight of the pouch in his hands heavy. He opened his mouth to argue, but stopped when he saw the glint of warning in Arthur's eyes, daring him to mention Cesealia.
"It is not the same," Arthur growled, his tone brooking no argument. "Go, and pray I do not change my mind."
Eric hesitated, then nodded stiffly. He grabbed his sword and the pouch and left.
Arthur stood in the empty barracks, the silence pressing down on him, except for one thing
Ba-Dum, Ba-Dum—BA-DUM
Arthur barely exhaled while passing the knightguard. They bowed stiffly. He did not nod back. Could not. His chest heaving. His eyes were on fire, trying his best to hold back the tears that were on the verge of spilling. Then—
"Arthur?"
Arthur spun at the sound of Eugene's voice, filled with concern.
Eugene was already stepping forward, brow furrowed. "What is wrong?" he reached out to touch his forehead.
"Don't—" Arthur snapped, recoiling as if his hand were fire.
Eugene's expression shifted, his sharp edges melting into alarm.
"You are burning up…" he whispered.
Arthur flinched and tried to turn away, but Eugene's voice cut through, low and unyielding.
"Arthur. I am your brother. Let me help."
"I know! Just—" His voice cracked.
"At least, talk to me—"
"I can't!" Arthur yelled, "I cannot," he repeated softly, throat tight. He felt a tear on its way, and he shook his head, turned, and shut the door in his face.
Eugene stood frozen outside his brother's chamber door. He gently touched the surface, then turned away. "Please look after him," he said to Sir James nearby.
Inside his brother Arthur's chambers, there was nothing he wished for but silence.
Ba-dum—ba-dum, Ba-dum—ba-dum, Ba-dum—ba-dum, Ba-dum—ba-dum. Badum. Badum. Ba-dum—ba-dumBadum. Badum. Badum. Ba-dum—ba-dum. Badum.
Arthur tore off his coat, yanking at the fastenings that all of a sudden seemed like they were choking him. He backed toward the dresser, pressing his hands against it, grounding himself. Inhale. Exhale. It was not working. His lungs were not filling. He groaned, clutching his chest as his heartbeat turned erratic, loud in his ears. His fingers trembled. His knees buckled. He staggered back, clutching the edge of the chest—cannot breathe, can't—
THUD
Outside the door, Sir James frowned, hearing the sound. "Your Highness?" he called, knocking once. No answer. "Your Highness—I'm coming in," he pushed open the door. Finding the first Prince lying collapsed on the floor. He moved immediately, kneeling beside him. "Fetch the healers—now!" he called out.
ARTHURIA
The family gathered for dinner, and one seat remained conspicuously empty.
"Where is he?" Elaine inquired curiously, her gaze drifted to Arthur's untouched place setting.
Eugene cleared his throat. "He said he was not hungry," he replied softly.
Artizea fidgeted with her food.
"That is the third night this week," Gilgamesh muttered, setting down his goblet with a heavy clink.
Artizea began to rise. "I will go—"
"No. I will," Arthuria interrupted, already pushing back her chair. Her tone left no room for argument.
"But—" Artizea began to protest, half-standing herself.
Gilgamesh raised a hand without looking at her. "This is your mother's realm."
Arthuria paused briefly, her gaze flicking to her husband. Their eyes met for a mere second before they turned away.
Artizea exhaled and sat down again, nodding.
Gilgamesh then turned his gaze fully to her. "I wish to speak with you in the morrow," he said, "I trust you will find yourself present."
Artizea met his gaze and gave a crisp nod. "Yes, Father."
The conversation ended there as the table fell into its first silence.
When Arthuria turned the corridor, she rubbed her bare hand, where her ring used to be. Her knightguard met her at the door.
"Your Majesty, the Prince has gotten worse—"
Arthuria did not wait. Her heart dropped. She was already striding down the hall before he finished his sentence. She found Arthur sitting on the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped tightly together. The room was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the moon outside his window. His sword leaned against the wall, carelessly in the corner, untouched.
"Arthur," she called gently, stepping into the room.
He did not respond, nor did he look up; his eyes were dull and lifeless, fixed on the floor.
"You missed dinner again," she said, closing the door behind her.
"I was not hungry," he muttered, his voice hollow.
Arthuria studied her son, her heart aching at the sight of him. The vibrant, hyperactive Prince she had given birth to was now a shell, consumed by his guilt and grief.
She sat beside him, the bed creaking softly under her weight. For a moment, she said nothing, letting the silence speak for them. Finally, she broke it.
"Do you know why I vowed never to use Excalibur again?" she asked.
"Because you did not need it anymore?" he whispered
His mother shook her head. "Because of decisions like the one you made." She paused. "Every time I wield that sword, more people died than they had to. Innocent or not, it did not matter. The weight of it… the lives lost in the name of duty. It stays with you."
His hands tightened into fists. "Does it get better?" he asked, his voice breaking. "The guilt?"
His Mother placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, her touch warm and grounding. "Over time," she said softly. "I used to be like this, too," she whispered. "When I first held Excalibur. My sister… she would stay with me. Just like this." She smoothed his hair with steady fingers, her voice soothing, "So I will stay. As long as it takes. Until my son finds his way back to the land of the living, where his family is. Where he is loved regardless of his mistakes."
For the first time in weeks, Arthur let his walls crumble. He turned to his mother, his face contorted with pain, and tears began to fall.
"I did not know what else to do, Mother," he sobbed, his voice thick with anguish. "I tried to protect everyone, but it all went wrong."
Arthuria pulled him into her arms, holding him tightly while he cried. She stroked his hair, her own heart breaking for her son.
"You did what you thought was right," she whispered. "And that is all anyone can ask of you."
For what felt like hours, Arthur cried in his mother's arms, releasing the burden he had carried alone for far too long. After a while, he whispered, "…Mother?"
"Mmm?" she hummed.
He hesitated. "Do you… Love Father?"
Arthuria blinked. "Where is that coming from?"
Arthur's lips parted, but the words dissolved before they could form.
"Arthur. Whatever it is… You can tell me. I promise—I probably already know." She watched him with that quiet knowing look only mothers had.
"Not this," he murmured.
She grew still. "Then tell me."
His voice broke around the edges. "Did Dad have another child before Artizea?"
Arthuria's eyes widened, then she chuckled, "Heavens no." She let out a breathless laugh, then sighed, "Do not scare me like that, son."
However, Arthur did not laugh. He simply looked away. "I heard rumors when I was in the city. That it took years of… trying," he tried his best not to gag, "Then you unexpectedly had Artizea. Then me… Eugene, Elaine, they said you did it for the realm or…to secure our future." Everyone knows Father only wished for girls, Elaine's voice rang in his head. He breathed out a sigh, "Sometimes I feel like he does not like me… never wished for me. Did you…want us?" he asked.
Arthuria was quiet at first, then reached for his hand. "Son…" she whispered. "There will come a day when you are a father, only then will you experience true pain," she said dramatically.
Arthur Brow knit in horror.
"Blood—"
"Mom—"
"Screams—"
"Mommy—"
"Do you know how long I was in labor? Do you think it is pretty? I tell you now it is not, I thought I was going to split in two," she ranted off, "Especially with you, and that big head of yours."
Arthur chuckled. "Okay! I get it, I'm sorry…"
Arthuria joined in, then smiled, "Do you truly think I would have gone through all that pain, just for politics? You would not do that four times for anything but love," brushing her thumb across his knuckles. "I may not like your father very much right now," she said while rolling her eyes, "but I do love him. And I know with all my heart that he adores his children. All four of you."
Arthur went quiet again. "But… if there was another… what are the chances of them challenging Artizea as rightful heir?"
Arthuria's face softened, tender and fierce all at once. "If—there was," she sighed, "It still would not change a thing. Your sister will be the next monarch of humanity," she said firmly. "Crowned despite the protest of the entire realm as the rightful heir, she is your father's pride." She cupped his cheek. "And you, my sweet Arthur, no matter what, will always be mine."
Arthur looked up at her, eyes glossy but smiling. "Does that mean Eugene is your joy?"
She leaned in and whispered, "Shhh. Don't tell."
They both laughed. After a pause, he asked, "Mother?"
"Yes, baby."
"…Can you stay with me until I fall asleep? Like you used to?"
Her smile was warm as the sunrise. "Of course." She curled into bed beside him, gathering him within her arms.
He closed his eyes, at last, safe against the rhythm of her breathing.
Outside the room, Artizea stood pressed against the door, listening. She should never have pushed Arthur to his breaking point. She knew the weight he carried, and she knew he would have followed through anyway. Drawing in a breath, she pushed off the door frame with resolve.
ARTIZEA
Artizea kept her hood low, moving with the unhurried pace, navigating through the streets, her eyes scanning the familiar corners and alleys she had once walked with Eric during the Dawn Rite. At last, the shop came into view. Quiet. A weathered sign hung on the door: Temporarily Closed. A pang struck her chest. Then she heard a muttered curse from around the side.
Artizea slipped through the side entrance and found a woman kneeling among scattered produce, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. Without thinking, she dropped to help gather the fallen fruit.
"Thank you," the woman murmured.
"No problem," Artizea replied.
The woman then surveyed Artizea fully, her eyes widening, not in recognition of her title, but in recognition of her.
"Your Highness," Cesealia said flatly, her hands stilling mid-motion.
"Are you… Cesealia Quint?" Artizea asked quietly.
"Yes," Cesealia replied, rising with the crate of fruit, "What else can I do for you, Crown Princess? Or should I ask, whatwill you take?"
Artizea nodded slowly, absorbing the sting in her words. "I know I am the last person you should wish to see. And I know we have never met. But your brother… told me much about you. I thought it right to share my condolences and my apology in person, on behalf of the Crown—"
Cesealia's jaw tightened upon walking away.
Artizea stilled, but did not yield. "I loved your brother."
The sound of the crate hitting the counter harder than it should filled the air.
"Even after I learned what he said, what he did. So direct your wrath at me, if you must. But know this: Arthur loved him more than I could ever claim to. My brother loves everyone—so much so, he would bury his own heart's desire for their sake, no matter the cost. That is the man he has always been. His only guilt is loving you more than he is capable of."
That softened Casealia's expression, though only slightly.
"And if you love him too, then please," Artizea added gently, "If you ever see him again, hear him out."
"Is that all?" Cesealia breathed out.
"It is," Artizea said, sensing the subtle dismissal. She turned to leave, but a familiar voice stopped her.
"Wait," said Rosetta. She had been sitting quietly in the corner, watching. "I only ask one thing of the Crown."
"Anything," Artizea said.
"I wish the compensation to be doubled, so that we may be comfortable in our grief."
"Gran!" Cesealia hissed, rounding on her. "I will not have my brother's death bought, let alone negotiated."
"You are working three jobs, Cece," Rosetta said. "You and I both know the only reason Eric became a knight was to ease the burden on you, because he did not want you in the brothels!"
"I could have handled it—"
"I did not want you to. Your brother did not want you to, nor would your parents."
Cesealia's eyes burned. Without another word, Rosetta rose and pulled her granddaughter into an embrace. Then she extended her hand to Artizea.
Artizea took it. "I will see to it that your wish is granted." Her grip lingered, then released, and with it, the last remnants of her hatred for the man she once knew. She would make sure his first and final wish to her would be to.
From now on, she would remember Eric as he was. A good brother and a good man.