ARTIZEA
4 WEEKS LATER…
Artizea adjusted the ceremonial armor she wore annually; it was black and golden pieces adorning it, finishing it off was a crimson shoulder cloak. Her gaze lingered on her reflection. For her, back then, the rite was both a stage and a battlefield. She was never forced to participate. She wanted to. She craved it; to claim victory over challengers, overwhelmed by her strength. She did not simply fight; she dominated the field, for it was a place where she proved she was the only rightful heir to carry the weight of a monarch. Her aura was fierce upon facing those who sought to join her bloodline. However,none succeeded.
Eric had been more than a personal knight to her; he had been her confidant, her lover, the one who had shown her a world beyond duty. All the while, her mind wandered to memories she wished she could forget. She still remembered the nights they spent together under the stars, along with his whispered promises. But the dream had shattered like fragile glass the day she caught him with her one friend… The image was seared into her memory, the way they stood too close, the quiet laughter they thought she would never hear, 4 years… she began to feel warm, and not the good kind…
You are the Crown Princess, Artizea. You deserve more than I could ever give you."
1,2,3, so no one bleeds. She recited, clasping her hands around herself. She needed release, the freedom to bleed, to ache, to feel every shard of hurt without restraint. She needed to feel alive. She clenched her fists. The Rite of Challengedemanded more than skill and strength, and above all, it demanded their Crown Princess, unshackled by the past and steadfast on their future. Protection was no longer what she wanted; freedom was what she needed.
In that moment, she caught sight of her hair, once a cascading river of golden strands that symbolized her regal beauty, hanging loose over her shoulders. It had always been the pride of courtiers and the envy of many women. But now, every strand felt heavy. Just then, she remembered the answer to the first question she had asked her father mere hours before her coronation.
"Why me?"
Her father's expression softened, but only slightly. "You remind me of your mother," he said quietly. "As you know, she was a king before she was a queen. A ruler who defied the expectations of her time and wielded a blade to protect her people. But, she canceled herself out, denied the fullness of her identity as a woman, to live as a king because she believed the way she was guided was the only way to lead. She was what a perfect king should be, yet even then, she was doubted."
Artizea felt a pang in her chest at the thought of her mother's sacrifices.
"She proved them wrong," she said softly.
"She did," Gilgamesh agreed, his voice filled with pride. "But it cost her. You are in a different position. You will not be doubted for your strength or your right to rule. Not while your mother and I still live and breathe. But you must decide what path you wish to take. Whether it be in someone else's footsteps is up to you…"
She met his gaze, her resolve unshaken. "I will rule as I must, Father. To honor the first kings and protect our people and our family. Just as you both have—" She was cut off by her father, groaning in pain.
"Do not preach to me about those old bastards—"he sighed.
"But—"
"Even if the blood of the first settlers ran through my veins, I still would not care in the slightest about them. Nothing good comes from dwelling on the footsteps of man, for the elements will surely sweep them away. I do this for your mother because I made her a vow. What I need from you is to prove those who sit upon the highest peak are wrong, let them bear witness to the strength of humanity, through the legacy of Arthuria Pendraon, the First True King to ever grace this realm. Show them what the real kings and queens of our line are capable of, not the ones who sat idle on the backs of their people for three hundred years."
Artizea felt her soul awaken. Her inner flame. Ba-Doom Ba doom, "I will," she vowed.
"Good," he said, stepping back. "Prepare yourself, not just for the present but for the future."
"I will," She smiled.
Artizea now stared at herself one more time with a sudden realization. The throne belonged to her people, yes. But the crown rested on her head alone. Her breath was now steady, though her grip tightened while the events of the past few weeks spun through her mind. Eric's betrayal, her brother's questions about her loyalty, and the constant burden of her father's expectations that never seemed to relent. No more. A soft knock sounded at her door, and Elaine's voice called out hesitantly.
"Artizea? Are you ready?"
With one last glance at the woman she used to be, she steadied her breath. "I am." She strode toward the door and flung it open to meet Elaine's eyes, which widened at the sight of her transformation.
"By the gods—"
GILGAMESH
The drums began to beat a slow and steady rhythm that echoed in the hearts of every citizen present in the stands, they filled with nobles and commoners alike, all gathered to witness the Rite of Challenge. The atmosphere was filled with anticipation rippling through the stands as the royal anthem took form. The gates to the royal balcony opened, and the Pendragon family entered with regal precision. The king led the procession, adorned in his regal attire. Behind him was Arthur in gleaming silver and gold armor, followed by Eugene in his mage's robes and Elaine in her semi-archer leathers, each dressed to reflect their station and unique personalities. They each stood at their respective places in the royal section.
Yet, one absence loomed over the balcony like a shadow. Arthuria. The Queen was annually missing. The drums went silent as the king took his seat, followed by the royal children. The anthem returned to its chorus as everyone in attendance rose to their feet in unison while they sang with fervor, their voices carrying the pride of the nation.
Gilgamesh's gaze briefly flicked toward the missing seat beside him once more, yet he remained stoic and unreadable. "Commence," he commanded.
As the music subsided, the representatives of the respected kingdoms of the human realm began to make their entrances. First came Arkadia, the Western kingdom, their shimmering blue cloaks glinting in the sunlight. Then, Syria, the Eastern kingdom, followed with its purple elegance.
Then at last came Egypt, the northeast kingdom, sailing from across the seas, their golden adornments dazzling, surprising, not slashing under yellow garments.
However, instead of sending an envoy, the king himself had graced the arena with his presence. Alexander Santanio the Great. He was the same age as the monarch and carried the same bluntness. Legends claimed he had once cleaved the head off a leviathan with a single strike. Yet, if not for the way his men deferred to him, one might never guess he was a king at all. To the Pendragons, he was simply…
"Alex—" Gilgamesh called out, instantly standing from his seat, a rare grin touching his face. "I see you have paused your conquest?"
Alexander chuckled, "For my first godchild?" putting a hand ot his heart, "I would not miss her Rite for all the secrets of the realm."
"She'll be happy to see you," Gilgamesh said, clasping his shoulder. "Welcome back—"
Before any more words could pass, Elaine ran into the room and launched herself into his arms. "Uncle Alex!"
"Hey, kiddo!" Alexander laughed, twirling her once. "Did you get the horse that I sent you?"
"I did! I named him Stolas." She beamed. "He's a dream."
"Tell me," he leaned in, lowering his voice so no one else could hear, his terrible guidance, "how fast can you sneak out these days without getting caught?" he murmured, giving her a wink.
She leaned closer, giggling, "As fast as the wind, Uncle Santa," whispering back.
"Uncle Santa… I like it!" Alexander exclaimed.
"Eugene came up with it!" Elaine chimed.
"Oh? Where's the little weasel?" His gaze swept the room until it landed on Eugene, sharp yet warm. "There you are. Get over here, little man—" spreading his arms wide open.
"Pass, you stink of ale, Uncle Alex."
Alexander sniffed at his armpit, then sulked dramatically. "Indeed, I do." In a blink, he was at Eugene's side, scooping him into a crushing bear hug.
"Hey—let me go—" Eugene yelped, squirming. "Dad!"
Gilgamesh pretended to be interested in his goblet.
"Not until you say you missed me." Alexander sang.
"Alright, fine! I missed you!"
"Ha! I knew it." Alexander finally set him down and pressed something into his hand. "Here—happy birthday, squirt."
Eugene blinked at the small key resting in his palm. "My birthday was four moons ago."
"Still," Alexander grinned. "The new and improved Library of Alexandria is now at your service. And I need someone to—oh, I do not know—organize the entire bloody thing back to how it was."
Eugene stared, half interested, half horrified. "Are you kidding me? I do not have the time—did you just say the entire thing?"
"Yeah," Alexander shrugged, "But if you are too busy…"
Arthur scoffed from nearby. "As if he hasn't already memorized it alphabetically." Earning an eye roll from Eugene.
"Arthur!" Alexander turned, grinning. "You finally grew into that oversized head of yours." He winked at Eugene, finally getting a genuine smile from the introverted Prince, as the siblings chuckled.
"HA-ha, very funny," Arthur grumbled. "I am still waiting on that rematch you promised me, for my birthday—Four years ago," he barked.
"Alright, fine, after the Rite. You and me." nudging Arthur. "Winner takes all."
Arthur smirked. "You're on."
Gilgamesh chuckled from his seat. "Sit beside me, Alex."
"Oh?" Alexander raised an eyebrow. "The Queen's seat? You trying to get me killed or what?"
"The Queen will not be attending," Gilgamesh said, a bit too casually.
"Uh-huh… let me guess," Alexander said, tilting his head. "Still in one piece, no physical harm… Holy be rah. You fucked up big time." He plopped down uncomfortably, glancing around as if expecting to be snapped at any second.
Gilagmesh sighed, rubbing his brow. "You try navigating the four tribes, a wife, and four different versions of her." sitting as well.
Alexander threw his head back with a laugh. "Speaking of which… I should really pop in on the one I have here…"
Gilgamesh burst into laughter as if it were the first joke ever told. (This was news to him.) "I always said one of those concubines of yours was clever."
"Oh?"
"Indeed. She solved my council problem for me; they are as disciplined as dogs now."
"Who—" Alexander cut himself off, rolling his eyes as he slumped back with a sulk. "Ah… my forbidden fruit and love of my life… Zephaniah fucking Shay." He clicked his tongue in mock regret. "Shame I never managed to tie her down."
"Why the delay?"
"Truth? Whole truth? And nothing but the truth? I respect her." He muttered into his goblet. Then, louder, with a bitter laugh: "Whole Truth, if I could even find half my wives, I would divorce them all for her. If she asked me to fetch a tear from a mermaid, I would do it without question." He reached for another pour of wine. "Nothing but the truth, she said no."
"Just no?"
"She cursed my entire bloodline, along with my unborn children… and by that, I mean a kick to the nuts. Dear Gods— I miss that woman's bitch-slap. I can still feel it…" He brought a hand up, hovering over a sacred spot on his face.
Gilgamesh shook his head in deja vu, "Did you ever catch one?"
Alexander sighed, tossing off his coat. "Nah. Slippery things, they are. Hypnotized half my crew and wrecked my ship. Repairs took months. The council caught me, and I was forced to actually govern the kingdom," he chuckled, then whined. "Ah fuck..she did curse me, careful, it's contagious.."
Gilgamesh smiled, then let out a sigh, "What are you doing here, Alex, truly?"
Alexander's voice was lower, urgent. "While I was half-present at council, I heard a few important bits," he paused, "Is it true? Is it time?"
Gilgamesh fell silent, the recent joy slipping from his face.
Alexander leaned closer. "You cannot let it happen, Gil. I will fight to the death before those bastards get a chance to take her from us, again," he whispered.
"I have made my decision, Alex." Gilgamesh's jaw tightened. "There will not be a next time."
Alexander exhaled, "Good."
Gilgamesh met his gaze. Then, with a quiet nod, he raised his goblet to the man he would not dare call a friend in public. Alexander met his cup as it clinked, knowing he was anyway.
Finally, the drums quickened as a deep horn was blown, signaling the arrival of the Celestial Realm. Ishtar, the goddess of love and fertility, and queen of the heavens, appeared in a golden chariot, swept into view, drawn by celestial beasts that gleamed like polished bronze, soaking in the attention while she blew kisses to the cheering spectators, her mischievous smile never faltering.
"Fuck's sake…" Alexander grumbled.
The chariot pulled up to the royal booth. Ishtar dismounted with an air of theatricality, her flowing robes sparkling unnaturally in the sunlight. She ascended to face Gilgamesh, her smile widening when she met his gaze, then flickered to the other king beside him, "Aw, I see you have made a new friend, Gil, or rather a pet."
"You know very well, I have no friends, and why…" Gilgamesh said dryly.
Ishtar could not help but smile. "Do not take it personally," she said to Alexander. "He's always been this way."
"I shall bear that in mind," he said, struggling not to roll his eyes,
"And where is your son?" Gilgamesh asked nonchalantly.
"You ask as though I have a leash on him, Gil." She lightly chuckled while leaning against the railing, "Our parenting skills differ above the clouds."
Gilgamesh's eyes narrowed. He was not amused by the statement.
"Aw, do not give me that face, you know how children can be," Ishtar said, her tone light and playful. "They do what they feel like."
ARTIZEA
The sound of the drums shifted, signaling the gates to be opened, "And now, the undefeated champion of the Rite of Challenge for five consecutive years, The Crown Princess, Artizea Pendragon!" the herald called out. The people erupted, chanting her title with fervor as Artizea's golden foot armor gleamed in the sunlight upon emerging from the shadows. She was cloaked in a crimson shawl, her face partially obscured while she walked with measured pace; each step she took was another flash of her decision.
She reached for her dagger, which was resting on the table. Its crimson ruby gleamed while she lifted the blade with her right hand. She then grabbed a thick lock of her hair with the other. For a moment, she hesitated, watching the reflection of her trembling fingers clutching the strands. Then, with a single determined motion, she brought the blade down.
The soft sound of severed hair falling to the ground in a shimmering cascade, pooling around her feet like the remnants of a life she no longer claimed. Again and again, she cut, until her once-flowing locks were gone. Her reflection now stared back at her, unfamiliar yet stronger.
She knelt, her fingers brushed the strands, and for a fleeting moment, a tear threatened to fall; she thought of Eric, she remembered the way he used to run his fingers through her hair. But those memories no longer held power over her.
Not anymore.
The moment Artizea reached the center of the arena, she stopped, then reached up to her shawl, with a forceful pull, it flew away, revealing her face and her newly cut hair, a bold declaration of her transformation, the same dagger that had severed her hair now strapped at her side, and she felt a strange sense of liberation, leaving behind the weakness of her past. The reaction was instantaneous. Gasps filled the air, followed by a wave of wild cheers and cries of admiration.
"Crown Princess! Crown Princess!" The audience chanted.
From the royal seating area, Alexander whistled low, turning to Gilgamesh with a crooked grin. "I thought you said the Queen was not coming." He raised his goblet and pointed toward the ground floor. "I see her. Right there," he mused.
Gilgamesh followed the line of Alexander's gaze, landing on Artizea, standing tall as she raised her lance high above her head, the sunlight glinting off its sharp edge, her now-cropped hair dancing in the wind, just like Arthuria once had, when the cruelest fate first sat on her shoulders alone.
"All that beautiful hair… gone…" Elaine whined in disbelief. She leaned over to him.
Arthur, standing beside her, rolled his eyes. "It is only hair, Elaine. It will grow back."
"I had to fix it!" she shrieked in memory. "Had I not, she would have been the princess of porcupines—"
Eugene interjected, "She's making a statement, and judging by the crowd, I would say it is working."
As Artizea strode confidently to her place, her chest rising and falling with steady breaths. She took one last deep breath, then lifted her gaze to the royal balcony, searching for someone. Her heart sank when she saw that the queen's was empty. Of course, she thought bitterly. Mother disapproved of this entirely. She thought while lowering her head.
Sensing her confidence diminishing, Alexander shot to his feet, "Rip them to shreds, show no mercy!" he shouted, his voice echoing. "Vale Tudo!"
At the sound of his voice, the Egyptian war drums began to thunder. The sound rolled across the stone walls and shook the dust from the banners above.
Artizea lifted her head at the familiar voice and smiled. The first of the opponents stepped forward, Sir Gailvain, Warrior of Syria, 'the strongest in their Kingdom', the herald announced. But she barely registered it. Her focus was on the fight ahead of her. The real challenge.
They fell. Every last one of them. Bested in grace and honor. The small challengers—nobles, warriors, and knights alike. Some were 5 against 1, some were cocky and charged in alone, but as always, the outcome never changed, and though each victory weighed heavier on her shoulders. None of them was worth her time. She wanted what she came here for. The trial to end all trials and doubt in her right to rule, once and for all. And now it was time. At the far side of the field, the announcer's voice rang out once more. This time, she was fully aware.
"And now, the challenger! Heir to the Throne of the Celestial Realm and future monarch!" The gates on the opposite end of the one she came through groaned open. "—His Royal Highness"
Artizea's eyes slowly dilated in focus.
Rhyssan'dsnezhniyah Rimat!"
But there was no one. Only the low rumble of thunder, rolling through the realm like a warning. Lightning split the sky, illuminating the arena in a blinding white, causing the arena to fall into an awed hush. When the shadow released his figure, his dark wings spread wide, as they were that starless night, his golden eyes fixed on her.
No. Artizea thought, her teeth gritting as the grip on her lance tightened by muscle memory, and she forced herself to regain control. Her awakening crimson eyes locked on his upon his approach.
The Prince inclined his head slightly, his lips curving into a smirk. "It has been a while, hasn't it, Artizea…Pendragon?" He said her name with an ease that made her heart pound.
"So, you finally have a name, good—" Artizea said,
"Please—" he interrupted, "Call me Rhyssand. It is only fair after making you wait so long, I couldn't possibly find joy in torturing you with prenociation…" he chuckled.
She then maneuvered her lance with both hands in a smooth arc behind her back, then leveled it toward him, " I Artizea Pendragon, Daughter of the Great Kings, Crown Princess of The Four Nations, Heir to the throne of humanity, hereby challenge you—To A Rite of Challenge. Do you accept? Rhyssan'dsnezhniyah Rimat of Celestia?" she added venomously.
Rhyssand inclined his head slightly, "Do you greet all your challengers by name like that?"
Artizra blinked."Like what—?"
"Personal."
Personal…? Artizea's eyes narrowed. He was Right. This was personal. And it was about to get very spiritual. "Only those I have unfinished business with," she shot back. "I ask again—do you accept?"
His smirk blossomed into a full grin. A spear materialized in his hand, which he spun lazily with one hand, taunting her. "How could I possibly refuse?"