ARTHUR
SOMETHING FELT OFF THE MOMENT ARTHUR AWOKE TO STRANGE NOISES FROM HIS UNCONSCIOUS STATE. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, only to freeze when he noticed a faint glimmer in the air. Tiny motes of light danced around his bed, which shot him awake.
"What in the bloody—" But his voice trailed off as the shimmering light coalesced into a series of glowing, spectral rats. Their red eyes gleamed as they scurried around his room, chattering softly. His breath caught in his throat.
"No. no, no, No," he muttered, trying to convince himself.
One of the rats darted toward him, leaping onto the bed. Arthur let out a strangled yelp and scrambled backward, falling off the other side of the bed with a loud—
THUD
"Eugene!" he roared, his voice echoing through the palace.
Eugene chuckled upon hearing marching in the library moments later. He casually flipped through a book, waiting for they to cease. When they did, he then looked up at a still disheveled and barefoot Arthur, glaring at him with his sword in hand.
"Good marrow, Arthur," Eugene said. "You seem… agitated."
Arthur slammed his hands on the desk, jabbing a shaking finger at his younger brother. "There are glowing red-eyed rats in my room," he grunted out.
Eugene frowned in innocence. "Glowing rats with red eyes? Sounds like a fascinating, magical phenomenon. You should have someone look into that. Sounds… demonic."
Arthur leaned in closer, "You think you are SO clever, don't you?"
"Just resourceful." Eugene closed his book with a soft thud. "You brought this upon yourself, brother. Chickens? That was beneath even you."
Arthur let out a frustrated growl, but before he could retaliate.
"What is going on here?" Artizea demanded, upon passing the room with an aura radiating so much that she thought there was indeed an assassin.
Arthur straightened, pointing accusingly at Eugene. "Our genius little brother over here filled my room with glowing rats!"
Eugene raised an eyebrow, completely unbothered. "And Arthur released a swarm of chickens on me."
Artizea pinched the bridge of her nose. "Honestly, the two of you. Do you have nothing better to do than torment each other?"
Arthur crossed his arms. "He started it!"
"No, he did!" Eugene snapped.
Artizea sighed, glaring at both of them. "I care not for who started it—" she snapped, glaring at them both.
"Eugene started it," Arthur muttered under his breath.
"No, Arthur started it, he hid my book—"
"You hid my boots!"
"Because you—
"—And my shash is still pink! I oughta—!"
Artizea let out a strangled grunt, not caring to sneak away unnoticed. Her intervention on the argument provided the perfect distraction, so that no one dared to follow her. She glanced back just in time to see Arthur's arm hooked tight around Eugene's neck.
"Arthur—get off of me!" Eugene wheezed while thrashing.
"Turn it back fucking blue!" Arthur barked.
RHYSSAND
It was their fourth or maybe fifth meeting by the lake.
Rhyssand was leaning against a tree, tossing a small stone up and down in his hand while Artizea placed herself in front of him, her frustration palpable.
"I just don't understand why you think it is so hilarious," she snapped, throwing her arms in the air.
"It is funny," He chuckled in mockery. "You were so convinced that they would listen to you."
She whirled around to glare at him, her cheeks flushed. "I was trying to calm them down."
Rhyssand laughed, the sound rich and maddeningly carefree. "Sure. Because yelling helps."
"You were not even there!"
"I do not have to be," he said, smirking. "Fin and Eugene tell me everything."
Artizea's glare sharpened. "Great—surely you have gathered all the palace secrets by now."
"You are feisty today," Rhyssand retorted, tossing the stone aside and stepping closer. "What is getting you all worked up? Hm?"
"I am not worked up," she lied, her voice rising slightly.
"Oh no," he said, his grin widening. "You are furious."
"I am not—"
"Lies…" He cut her off by stepping even closer, "You know…" his eyes gleaming with mischief. "You're kind of cutewhen you are mad."
Artizea blinked, her anger faltering for just a moment before she narrowed her eyes. "Stop trying to distract me."
"Why? Is it working?"
Before she could respond, he leaned in, his face inches from hers. The heat of his proximity, the way his smirk softened into something more genuine, it was infuriating. And confusing, until a question—
"Do you ever think about what it would be like to leave all this behind?" Rhyssand asked quietly, "To just… be?"
Artizea had asked that same question before. And the answer had never changed, she studied him for a long moment. "I do," she admitted. "I wanted to," But I cannot. My family, my people… they need me."
Rhyssand looked at her then, really looked. And something in his chest cracked. Still, he asked softly, "And if you could?" he pressed.
There was that vulnerability, just beneath the surface. "There…" she hesitated. "There is no could. I won't leave them."
In that moment, he knew. He had always known. But knowing and accepting are not the same thing. He smiled on the outside, the kind that did not reach his eyes.
"I have… a mandatory family dinner now," Artizea said. She shot up to brush off her pants.
"Goodnight, Crown Princess."
Artizea paused at the title. Usually, he would kiss her goodbye—a touch to the temple. A kiss to the back of her hand, something small, but this time… it never came. She looked at him for a beat longer than she should have, searching for something unspoken. When it did not come, she exhaled. "Goodnight." While turning away.
Rhyssand watched her figure disappear into the trees, and the stillness of the glade returned. Then, with a quiet flutter, Fin landed on a low-hanging branch above his head.
"The wedding is starting, the queen has requests for you."
Rhyssand did not answer right away. His jaw tightened, and his hands curled once at his sides before going slack. Then, finally, said, "Your contract with me ends here. You're free to choose your next vow… and your next master."
Immediately, the tainted feather disappeared upon Fin fluttering closer. "Maybe you should just tell her— Maybe she would understand."
"It is for the best…" Rhyssand murmured.
Fin was silent then. What could a bird say to a man who had just chosen to break his own heart?
ARTHUR
Arthur and Eugene had kept a careful distance from each other for the entirety of the day until the entire family sat around the grand table.
Gilgamesh scanned the table, then raised an eyebrow. "Where is the Crown Princess?"
Arthur, leaning back in his chair, waved a hand dismissively. "She said she would be late."
Eugene, sitting beside him, did not even look up from his notes.
Elaine was giggling with Arthuria about something or other. Everything looked normal. That should never be.
Gilgamesh narrowed his eyes but said nothing. Then the doors opened and Artizea entered the room with her usual look of 'everything is fine,' though her mind was with thoughts of the evening.
"Ah, there she is," Her father said, his sharp eyes studied her for a moment, as if he could sense the nervous energy she was trying to suppress.
She offered a polite smile, then kissed him on the cheek, "Father."
Elaine, seated across from her, grinned mischievously. "You seem… distracted, sister. Something on your mind?"Artizea shot her a warning glance, but before she could respond, Arthur interjected.
"If I could have everyone's attention for just a moment," he began, "I have something I need to say."
His siblings exchanged glances, and even his mother raised an eyebrow, clearly curious.
"Brace yourselves…." Elaine teased, earning a chuckle from the table.
Arthur shot her a playful glare before turning to Eugene, who was flipping through one of his smaller books at the table. "Baby brother," He started, his voice softening. "I want to apologize."
Eugene side-eyed him, "Apologize?" he replied skeptically.
"Yes," He continued, shifting in his chair. "For all the pranks, the chickens, the soap that wouldn't lather, and… well, everything else. I have come to realize that maybe I went too far. You are my brother, and I should respect you more instead of… tormenting you." his eye twitched with that last statement.
The room fell silent for a moment, and Eugene studied Arthur's face carefully, searching for signs of mischief. To his surprise, there were none.
"I am serious," Arthur exclaimed. "No more pranks. I swear it upon mother's roses."
Eugene's gaze softened, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Thank you, Big brother… I appreciate that." Raising his goblet for the first time as a gesture of goodwill, not that there was anything in it.
The family murmured in approval, their father giving Arthur a subtle nod of acknowledgment. It seemed the feud had finally reached its end across all sides of he table.
As the meal continued, Eugene reached for one of his books that had been tucked beneath the table. He flipped it open, only for a cascade of glitter to explode outward, covering his face and robes in a shower of shimmering pink. The entire table froze, stunned by the unexpected spectacle. Eugene sat there, blinking as glitter clung to his hair.
The room fell into silence as all eyes turned to Arthur, who sat there looking utterly bewildered. "Do not look at me. I would never touch a book, not even for the sake of a prank," he said, throwing up his hands. To emphasize his point, he leaned back in his chair, attempting to prop one boot on the table. The chair gave a sharp crack in the legs, and before he could steady himself, the legs gave way; he yelped upon his way to the floor in a tangle of limbs. His crash stirred a faint creak from the rafters above, but Arthur was too busy groaning to notice.
Arthuria's eyebrows shot up, her expression a mix of disbelief at the Circus before her and maternal disappointment at what was about to commence.
"That one was me on both accounts," Artizea announced calmly, a sly smile curving her lips. "A proper end to this ridiculous match. Consider this checkmate. Wouldn't you agree, Father—" Before she could finish, something wet and unpleasant splattered across her sleeve. She froze, staring at the odd little bug clinging to her, its wings twitching after releasing another wave of unknown substance.
Elaine snickered behind her hand. "Oh, forgive me. I was just about to show Arthur the blue light firefly before she got loose, isn't it pretty, Daddy—"
The king's lips curled up forcefully. "Yes…"
Artizea flicked the insect away with similar disdain.
"Do not worry," Elaine giggled lightly, scooping it up before it could scuttle off. "For it is not poisonous. In any case…checkmate, right?" Her satisfaction lasted all of three seconds. With a sudden pop, dust exploded from a pouch above and showered her head-to-toe in flour.
Poor Arthuria, seated at the head of the table, immediately shook her head, holding up a hand. "No. Do not start," she warned, her voice firm. "Don't—"
Then Elaine sneezed, and that was all it took.
Gilgamesh let out a booming laugh that echoed through the hall.
Artizea giggled, and Elaine quickly followed.
Eugene looked at the hysterical table with a mix of exasperation. "So much for no more pranks."
Arthur clutched his stomach, chuckling until tears streamed down his face. "That was your agreement, Baby brother," trying to calm himself, "I still have a debt of tarts to collect from moons ago…" still wheezing.
Elaine pouted, "That wasn't even—"
"Bow, Flowers, Forest, All things Elaine loves—" Artizea sang.
"Humph!"
Arthur was still pointing at Eugene and managed to choke out, "You look like… like one of your experiments gone wrong."
"You do not say…" Eugene muttered, watching the glitter fall from his bangs.
"I said no more pranks, and I meant it," Arthur said, grinning. "But come on, you have to admit that was hilarious."
Eugene sighed, "Alright, fine, it was pretty funny."
The queen, being the only composed one left, pinched the bridge of her nose as if to ward off a headache. "My People of the Gardens, help me…" she muttered under her breath.
ARTIZEA
The next day, Artizea sat at her appointed seat, scanning the gathered lords and advisors. None of them were who she came to see. At last, Rhyssand finally strides into the chamber, Clad in his signature dark attire. Her heart skipped a beat, but her expression remained impassive when he took his seat across from her. She tried to catch his eye by tilting her head, but he did not look at her.
For weeks, their stolen moments had been her only solace in the chaos of her life. But lately, he had been distant, his once infuriatingly smug glances replaced with a cold demeanor, a stark contrast to the man she knew.
The Arkadian councilor rises, his deep voice echoing through the chamber. "We must address the unrest within the eastern territories. Have all the signals been destroyed?"
Before she could respond, Rhyssand spoke, his voice smooth and measured. "It is being handled. Patrols have been increased, and the odds of another human crossing paths with such creatures are slim to none. The matter is under control." His words were diplomatic.
Artizea narrows her eyes, her voice cutting through the room like a blade. "And what reassurance do we have that you are acting in our realm's best interest, rather than your own?" Take the bait, Rhys, look at me.
And when his eyes finally met hers, they looked right through her, as if she were just another voice in the room. His expression was detached. "Crown Princess, this council is unified in its efforts. Doubting that unity serves no one."
Artizea froze. What the hell? she thought.
After the debate ends, the councilors file out, leaving the chamber empty. Artizea lingers, watching Rhyssand prepare to leave. She strides toward him, her steps quick and deliberate.
"Rhys," she calls, her voice softer than she intends.
He stops but does not turn around. "Crown Princess." The formal title stung like a slap.
"What is with the formality? "she snaps, moving to block his path.
Rhyssand cuts her off, his tone curt. "Is there something you need, Your Highness?"
Her chest tightens. The man before her feels like a stranger, his violet eyes devoid of the warmth she had once seen in them. "What is wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?"
"Like what?" he replies, his voice infuriatingly calm.
"Like you do not—!" Her voice cracked, "You have been avoiding me. Why?"
Rhyssand looks past her, his jaw tightening. "I have been busy. We all have responsibilities, Crown Princess."
"Responsibilities?" Artizea chuckled. This was obviously some kind of joke, right? she thought."You have always had responsibilities, but you still found time to—"
"To what?"
She stops, swallowing hard. "What… changed?"
"Nothing changed," Rhyssand said flatly, brushing past her.
She grabs his arm, forcing him to face her. "Rhyssand, Please Do not do this. Do not tell me I am crazy."
Rhyssand closed his eyes, "You're not crazy." Then slowly pulled away. "We had an understanding. It was never meant to be more than that."
The words hit like a blade to her chest. She takes a step back, her expression shifting from hurt to anger. "Fuck you…" she quivered out.
Rhyssand's mask cracked for a split second, guilt flashing in his eyes before he hardened his expression again. "I will be sure to get the reports you require by the marrow." With that, he turned away.
"What now then— huh— You go back to your fiancé?" she accused.
Rhyssand froze mid-step. For a moment, he said nothing; he closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. "Sleep well, Crown Princess," and he walked away.
Artizea stared after him, her mind raced through every moment they had shared—the stolen glances, the quiet nights, the way he had made her feel like she was not just the monster they feared, her heart ached for she was in the same situation once more, if not worse, at least she knew at some point Eric felt something… her fists clenched at her sides. She bit her lip, refusing to let the tears fall. He's just like the rest of them, she tells herself. But deep down, a small, fragile part of her wonders if there's more to his coldness, if he's hiding something from her. She shook her head, forcing the thought away. She would not lose control of her emotions again. If he wanted to push her away, she wouldn't fight it. If he wanted to leave.
He was free to go.