Burning;

IT’S DIFFICULT TO SAY why she’s let herself into the Summer Palace, of all places. Perhaps it’s mere nostalgia, or perhaps it’s desire to seek peace with the events of a thousand years past. Or perhaps, it is a sanctuary she seeks for, a desire to find peace away from the shambles of the Lunar Court and the Crystal Palace. Paol, it seems, is the only safe haven yet untouched by the end of the world. 

( Oh, little does she know how wrong she is. )

She searches for remnants of her Penelope on the walls of the Summer Palace, as she always does when she steps foot into her beloved’s home. It has become somewhat of a habit, almost, for whenever Naiya finds herself in this beautiful Paol palace, it is always memories of Penelope that haunts her. Do they honour her little thief, she wonders? Do they celebrate Penelope’s name, tell stories of her within these walls? Do they hang tapestries of her, cherish her portraits? Once upon a time, perhaps she would have asked, but that time is long gone. 

Now, she pushes away Penelope’s ghost. There is nothing she can do to mend the past. Not after all these years. But the future is still coming for her, — for them, for the entirety of the empire — and the glittering Summer Palace that once was Penelope’s is her reminder of what is at stake. They cannot lose this.

Her head turns at the chirp of a voice, and she finds herself face to face to the younger Paol princess. Camille — not Penelope, it hasn’t been Penelope for too long. Yet, her heart aches all the same to see the delight on the princess’ face. How little do these mortals know of what is to come. 

Naiya manages a small smile for Camille. “The Summer Palace is as beautiful as ever,” she responds, and there is sincerity in her words. The same cannot be said about the Crystal Palace, but she keeps that from Camille. Let her have that little bit of happiness for now. Someone else will play the messenger for her — if they haven’t already. “Word is that you were in Kova, Princess. I’m sure this is a welcomed change for you, no?”

Camille grew up captivated by the celestials. She had always wondered what it was like to live among the stars. Was the moon palace as lovely as her own? Did they feel the same joy she did when she stepped back onto her land? Or were their planets distant memories? She could technically relate to them in a way with their magic coursing through her veins. Just as Naiya can shatter villages apart, she too could do a bit of magic. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t hers to begin with. It didn’t matter that she felt the pain that was truly unlike anything else. Every time she took a bit of her vials and spread it out onto her skin, she couldn’t help  but look to the stars and feel like she’s closer to them than before.

She smiled softly at Naiya. She had expected to be greeted by a servant, but the god of Jupiter was a welcome surprise. She wondered what had brought the angel to her little domain, but then she remembered that people didn’t need a reason to visit the beauty of Paol. She certainly understood the need to see the clear ocean water and lovely people after spending so long in Kova.

“Good. I was afraid Daphne would do some redecorating while I was out. I love my sister, but I would hate to imagine how a castle of her own design would look.” She imagined the Bone Fortress and shuddered at the thought of their home looking anything remotely close to that. 

She nodded when the angel asked about her travels. She had to be careful to keep the way she arrived back a secret, because it would look odd if the princess outright said she sneaked away from the fortress and wandered onto a ship. “It certainly is. I love seeing my brother, but the Bone Fortress gives me chills every time I go there. Kova itself is pretty...dreary. Much too cold.”

 She glanced around again at the paintings on the wall before her eyes settled back on the celestial. She certainly didn’t have much conversation on her way back to Paol, aside from Sunisa in their short time together, so she was eager to catch up on the latest gossip. 

“Tell me, what have I missed? Not another ball I would hope. I’m already upset that I missed one.”

date: what seems a century ago, but was only a year  /  early 997 a.l. location: victor’s quarters, the center of the paol palace. status: flashback thread, closed to @daphnepaol​ & @camillepaol.

      Sunlight streams with a whimsical affection, cloaking him in its comforting warmth. It is neither sword nor shield, for such have no belonging in this trio of hearts. 

      One sister glitters, bathed in beaming rays and coddled by pious beauty. The other gleams, a reflective darkness pooling from her bladed being, blasphemous where the former is holy. Both pillars of his heart. A sun and a moon, flanking the brightest star. They are his to protect, to know, to understand, as he is theirs. Is it not a magic of its own, to a man who bows to such otherworldly delights, that the same crimson blood sears within their veins? They, the three turrets of the Paol kingdom, bound in a web that has somehow borne manacles.

      And it seems he can no longer bear to swallow the key.

      The fury, guttural and disbelieving and betrayed, from his father’s soul swarmed before him in ceaseless pour. Even now, an hour later, does he feel the brunt of it splayed out across his flesh, stinging like infected wounds and scarring like a promise. But Victor does not cease⏤⏤⏤he cannot cease. Perhaps it’s arrogant; it’s certainly selfish. His father suggested ungrateful, among a sleuth of other digging emotions. But it is, beyond anything else, survival. Even the manner of his chamber, kingly in its very essence and sweepingly remindful of his life, paralyzes him in a way. The soft patter of his heart is now beating in song, the monotone drone it was this morning exorcized. His life will no longer be strung along by magical nights among the stars and sea and the devilish delights his father has thrust upon him, but a symphony in which he is the conductor of his own orchestra. In which he serves a crown, but not his own.

      None of that, however, makes it any less calamitous having his sisters brought before him, before the seeds of his father’s fury plant themselves against him. He, no longer a king, begged before his counsel for this moment, to coddle in this sunlit place and hide away for however many minutes he is allowed. To let the fruition of his betrayal be revealed by his own tongue. Yet, he falters. He gazes, deeply and with mourning curling around his chest, at their awaiting faces, hints of himself in each of them and they in him. The grief topples.

      “Sisters,” he smiles, for what else was his visage crafted to do? “I have some news. Please, sit.”

Camille had beamed when she received a summon to Victor’s quarters. She had felt him pulling away since he got crowned the king of Paol, but perhaps he was attempting to make up for lost time. She expected his duties to be rather stressful, but she couldn’t deny that a part of her felt a bit hurt by his absence. He was her star. He was a soft, stable light in her life. He was a piece of her heart. she had always been distant from Daphne, but she felt like it was different with Victor. Daphne was the moon. She had a shadow over her, a sort of dimness that pulled her away from her two other siblings. Their relationships with one another were vastly different, yet they still worked together as one--- or at least they tried to.

She had floated alongside Daphne as she headed to her brother’s quarters. A light hum fell on her lips as her eyes grazed Daphne’s form-- tense, closed off--- and she shifted her body to face her sister slightly more. A small tilt of her head occurred as she spoke out a question that was on her mind as soon as she walked out her door.

“What do you think Victor has in store for us?”

She hoped it was a present of some sort. She may have a whole room filled with items gifted to her, most of which are untouched, but any gift from Victor would be placed in her room for her to admire. Perhaps Victor had found someone to marry. Camille adored weddings, and a royal wedding would certainly give her a chance to mingle and please. Her mind came up with idea after idea of what was in store for her, but she knew she would find out soon as she arrived in front of her brother.

A nod at his words,  she wandered over to sit at the corner of his bed. She watched Daphne for a bit, wondering if she would join her on the bed or if she would find somewhere else to sit, before she spoke to Victor.

Camille was elated to be back in her home country. She had expected her visit to Kova to be a delightful reunion for her and her absent brother, but towards the end she felt anything but delighted. Rumors of the angels who fought against her people in the war arriving to see the bone queen didn’t sit well with her, so instead of seeing if that rumor had any bit of truth in it, she had fled back to her land. Perhaps she should’ve said goodbye to her dear brother, but she didn’t want to bother him. There was also a part of her that feared he wouldn’t be sad to hear she was leaving.

After her not so brilliant plan to leave Kova and almost freezing to death in the Kovan winter, Camille had managed to sail back. She stepped off the boat and closed her eyes. The salty air was always a surprise to her, but it was a pleasant surprise. It was strange to be so far away from her oceans and sand. She grew used to waking up to the sound of birds chirping both outside her window and in the next room where her dear Ilias and Nerine rested. The Kovan bone fortress felt like a dungeon now that she was back to those missing sounds and sights.

She twirled in her gown as she entered her palace home. She looked at the artwork on the walls, most of which were done by her, and sighed. Camille wondered what her sister was up to in her absence. Perhaps she would visit her later tonight. For now, Camille turned to the person nearest to her and spoke in a sing-song voice.

“I hope this palace hasn’t gone to shambles in my absence.”

The warning sirens dimmed in her brain with the urgent way that the younger girl took the blanket, wrapping it around herself. This woman felt like there could be nothing she was hiding, totally naive and open to the bitterness of the cold - which made the lies that Sunisa heard even more potent. But there was nothing for it now, other than to keep open a wary eye as they set off.

“I’m Sunisa. You alright to head off now?”

///

It took a while to get to the docks, stilted conversation from both sides. She couldn’t fault Elain from not revealing everything, especially not to her, especially when she was equally unforthcoming. But still, there was an easiness to the air that she couldn’t place, a familiarity in how they fell into step together. The walk took nearly twice as long as anticipated, Sunisa slowing her pace to match Elain, taking more frequent rests to drink and breath. But still, the pace felt familiar, and so it took a lot to not rush ahead, to not leave this problem behind.

Eventually, the docks came into view, and she tried to hide a sigh of relief. Whilst she could have walked much further, had done in the past, but still, to do anything in Kova is taxing. The time to figure out the mystery was running out, so she slowed again and asked a question.

“What were you doing in Kova in the first place, if your family is in Paol?”

Camille had missed the way she could so easily converse with Sunisa. She remembered all of the nights spent chatting with the older girl when she was stationed at the palace. Sunisa felt like an older sister figure to replace her usually absent one, and when she left to go back to Tsuki, Camille had been left with an emptiness that was now all too familiar to the young princess. 

Camille had the blanket tight against her body. She didn’t think she’d be returning to Kova for a while. Perhaps she’d make her next visit to Kova be in the summer days, but knowing this country it wouldn’t make much of a difference. The day Kova welcomed the sun was a day that Nelehenia would wear a color that wasn’t black or grey. 

She beamed when she saw the docks. Camille had longed to be back in her bed. She missed her beloved castle. Her sister may not have realized she even left the country, but Camille would make it known she was happy to be back. All she needed to do was get onto a boat and sail back to where she came from.

Camille froze when Sunisa asked her about her presence in Kova. She thought she’d just leave her be and go back to whatever she was up too before Camille stumbled upon her path, but alas things were never that simple. Thinking quick on her feet, Camille spoke another half truth to her old friend. 

“I was visiting an old friend.”

They weren’t headed in the same direction, so a portion of the burden lifted from her shoulders. She couldn’t offer her services entirely, wouldn’t have to spend a while at sea with that itch in her shoulders, but perhaps just to the docks would be okay. Perhaps it would be long enough to figure out the mystery, to solve the reason why everything felt so wrong and right at the same time.

“Yes, though you’ve been coming from the north west, so perhaps you’ve spent some time walking in the wrong direction? You won’t have to backtrack entirely, though.” Her cloak was too fine to be without servants, too impractical to be from Kova, but perhaps she was running? Running towards Paol, not knowing about the world, but determined to get someplace. The part about her family seemed to ring true, and despite the wrongness, Sunisa couldn’t detect the slightest threat from the woman, no hostile intentions. So she forced her hackles to lower and pulled a blanket from her pack. “Here,” she said, before throwing the thick woolen cloth to the other. “I can guide you the rest of the way, if you need.”

She wouldn’t demand payment, not when she was headed the same way as well, but if this runaway lost her blanket or cost her too much time, perhaps she would reconsider. (She already knew she wouldn’t. She couldn’t turn down the woman with pleading eyes and gentle features, couldn’t hurt someone when she didn’t have to. One good wouldn’t make up for the wrongs, but perhaps it would be a step in the right direction. Perhaps she owed it to the world.)

She shifted from side to side as she watched her old friend. She remembered how the soldier treated her when she was stationed in Paol. The way she went out of her way to talk to her. The way she could wander over to Sunisa if she felt alone in her big palace. It made her feel a bit guilty for all of this, the lying and the pulling away, but she didn’t want Sunisa’s view of her to change. 

Perhaps Camille should’ve planned out an elaborate backstory for her disguise, but once again she hadn’t planned out her leave from Kova. Yesterday she was merely walking the halls of the fortress and seeking out her brother, and today she found herself far away from that place and her the one person she missed most. At Sunisa’s words Camille nodded. “Kova is a big place. Easy to get lost when every direction looks the same.” Maybe Camille would be better at navigating if she spent more time around snow, but since she grew up in the land of eternal Summer, the substance threw her off. Her eyes lit up when she saw the blanket in her old friend’s hands. She had already made a mental note to pack heavier coats next time she travels to this land, but for now the blanket would come in handy.

“Thank you.” She says softly, gripping the warm fabric before wrapping it around her frame. Her fingers were still frozen, but the blanket was already helping her body relax a bit. She watched the girl closely, looking for signs of change in her. It felt like forever since she truly got to look at her friend. So much time has passed that it felt like everyone around her had changed drastically. She assumed people would think the same of her as well, especially if they looked behind her facade.  

She pursed her lips. She longed to get rid of the magic and reveal herself to Sunisa, but she would never allow herself to do that. Even if Sunisa was kind to her in her home, it would not mean she’d get to see through her disguise. Camille knew the price of magic, and she knew she’d face it if anyone besides Marius knew of her past time. So instead, she thought of a name to fit her new character. She couldn’t claim her name as Camille without red flags being waved. She couldn’t use her bird’s name, Nerine, because she felt that was common knowledge as well. Instead, she dug through memories of old associates. She could go as the name of one of her old playmates, or her mother’s maiden name. Both were good options, but she felt like she needed to pick something new to match the person she was supposed to be portraying. She finally settled on a name she liked and she smiled as she turned to Sunisa.

“I’m Elain. What do I call the soldier standing before me?”

He found himself mirroring her own faint smile tenfold, and the way his lips ticked upward with sincere, innocent amusement felt—strange, almost. Asif was unused to genuine smiles, his lips well-practiced in faux grins and aloof smirks, and he was glad to be relieved of his masquerade, even if only for fleeting handful of moments. “Clever girl,” he hummed, pleasantly taken aback by her silver tongue (sharp wit was Daphne’s forte, not Camille’s, but it suited her well all the same, and Asif found himself enchanted by her small bout of cheek). “Perhaps you’ve learned some of your sister’s tricks after all,” he mused, eyes fixed on hers as he walked a small circle around her, pace slow, leisurely, hands locked behind his back. 

When Camille and Daphne were younger, Asif recalled, Camille, though clever, was always celebrated for her loveliness, and Daphne, though lovely, was always celebrated for her cleverness. But Asif had always suspected that the girls’ strongest attributes were those best-kept, not best-worn, and overtime, he’d watched Daphne bloom into a magnificent dreamscape beloved by all eyes of Paol, and, likewise, he’d watched Camille grow sharper and sharper, doe-lashed eyes full to the brim with wit beyond measure, wisdom beyond match. And perhaps that’s why he was suspicious of Camille’s nighttime ventures—because he’d spent a career watching her, seeing what others did not, knowing her for the clever girl she was, not the lovely girl Paol knew her to be. 

Perhaps we both just had a restlessness in us tonight. He lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug, head canted. “Perhaps so,” he conceded. His suspicions yet lingered, but he didn’t press her for more information—not yet, not now. Truth-prying was a delicate art, one that required finesse and patience. “Let’s rid ourselves of this restlessness together, then,” he suggested, offering her the crook of his elbow. “Shall we take a walk about this castle you so love, Princess?” he asked—and it sounded more like a dare than a proposal.

Her eyes trailed him as he circled her. She couldn’t help but wonder how the guard would react if he truly knew where she had snuck off to. Would he keep her secret? Would he report it to Daphne? Would he contact the celestials himself? She would hope that he would be loyal enough to her family to keep that knowledge to himself, but she also wouldn’t blame him for telling on her. In some way or another her habit was a liability to the kingdom, and as a guard to the kingdom she imagined that would take priority. She thought a lot about certain people finding out her secret. Perhaps it was because the effects were becoming more clear the more she used the substance, or perhaps it was because she felt like going by unnoticed was too good to be true. Either way, she wondered when her time would run out.

Her eyes finally peeled away from him and turned to look over at the body of water she assumed he swam in. She couldn’t imagine swimming at this hour, but then again she wasn’t a guard on duty. Normally she’d be asleep at this time, so perhaps the water was alluring to those that didn’t get the privilege. She felt like they were both holding secrets, but she wouldn’t pry into his if he didn’t pry into hers.

Her lips quirked upwards when he suggested a walk around the castle. She was tired after wandering in the dark, but she heard the tone of his voice and couldn’t say no. “I would love to walk around the castle with you.” She spoke, hand reaching over to rest on the crook of his elbow. “Where shall we go first?” She questioned, head tilting as she looked up at him.

She’d been escorted into Kova, temporarily, chasing the dissenters across the border and throughout the frozen wastelands, watching as villages burnt and people left bleeding on the streets. But she had refused to go all the way into Kova, refused to go into the Bone Fortress, especially with the rest of the army still at the border, chasing skirmishes. 

But by now it made more sense to travel home by ship, around the edges of the country and into the south, where she could get back into the Crystal Palace sooner. So she’d set off, heading alone because she was eager to leave, trusting in her sword to keep people clear. The cold chilled her to her bones, but it was a familiar ache after having spent weeks in the cold mud, and it was easy to dismiss in the layers that she had wrapped around herself.

Unfortunately, it seemed as though not everyone was as fortunate to have those layers of cloth, and the young woman approaching looked like she was about to turn freeze in place. Sunisa kept her hand on the hilt of sword as the other lady approached, barely relaxing at the question

The voice was .. off, some part of her brain tingling in a cry of unease, and she eyed the empty wasteland around them, even as she responded. “We’re two to three hours away, to the south east. Though there are docks on the rivers more inland.”

Sunisa was tempted to offer her own company, for a woman with such a fine and useless cloak and such a delicate figure shouldn’t be travelling with such little preparation. But that unease, that itch at the back of her spine refused to leave, so she asked, “Where are you planning to get to?”

When the person she spoke to turned around, Camille froze. She didn’t expect to be face to face with Sunisa of all people. She had been somewhat avoiding the girl for a while. Sunisa was always nice to her, always looking out for her, and it caused a pit of guilt to settle in her stomach. How would the soldier feel to know Camille was using magic that didn’t belong to her? How would the soldier react when her current magic faded and the disguise revealed a girl she cared for underneath? She couldn’t imagine the betrayal and horror in Sunisa’s eyes at her little hobby.

But, there were bigger things to worry about. She had left her bags behind because she knew it would slow her down as well as give her away. Her bags, after all, were pretty identifiable. A soft pink with a cursive “C” sketched onto them, anyone would know who those bags belonged to. Sadly, though, her bags contained her clothes. Instead of travelling in elegance, she was wandering around in the least extravagant thing she could find--- a velvet black cloak. Pretty, but it didn’t offer her nearly as much protection against the elements as she would’ve wanted. She was practically frozen to the touch as she conversed with the soldier.

“Two to three hours?” She frowned. When she left she had thought the docks were closer. Camille’s trips to Kova weren’t ever spent in the outside, aside from being escorted to the fortress, so she had underestimated the vast landscape of the nation. Perhaps she should’ve just asked the queen for safe passage back.

“I’m headed to Paol. My family is there.” She nodded, knowing it was true. Her home, her sister, they were all waiting for her back in her country. If only she could get there.

Camille had chosen her escape carefully. She had considered asking Victor to appeal to the queen, but she feared what would happen if the queen denied her safe passage back to her homeland. The thought of being in the presence of such powerful beings as Jove and Persia pushed her to back a more drastic and risky decision--- to venture out on her own wearing the face of another.

She had brought her vials of magic with her on the journey in order to ward off sympathetic stares from her brother, but now it appears the little vials would serve a bigger purpose. She had only really used a little magic at a time--- a splash near her eyes to make them sparkle, a douse on her hair to make it shine, some magic on body to give it that sun kissed look she had been lacking recently. Nothing too extreme in order to not draw suspicion. She had never attempted to become someone else with the magic, but she knew her best way out of here would be to do that. 

She had taken one of her vials out and held it in her hand. Closing her eyes, she started to rub the magic onto her body, envisioning who she wanted to be. Her hands weave through her hair, making light waves turn into a dark straight appearance. Her fingers run along her skin, changing it from the bronze glow it was to something a bit duller. Her eyes turn from a brilliant hazel to a dark brown. She stared at herself in the mirror when she was done, and she gasped. She couldn’t recognize the face she was seeing before her. The girl looked nothing like the princess had, and it took a moment for the shock to fade before she laced up her cloak and set forth back to her land.

She had been travelling for a few hours now. The cold had hit her the moment she was out of the castle, but as hours went on she found herself chilled to the bone. Shivering and practically frozen to the touch, she had sought out some place to rest. She was about to collapse right where she stood when she spotted a figure not too far away from her, and she set out again despite the ache in her bones.

“Would you happen to know how far away we are to the docks? I’m afraid i’m due to catch a boat, but I seem to be a bit lost” Not totally a lie. She didn’t have a boat prepared, but when she shows up as the Paol princess she would assume someone would offer her a spot. 

Impossible, really, that a thing so sweet had bloomed so well in the rotten soil of Paol’s wasteland, flourishing in spite of the cancer of vanity that plagued all Paols. He wondered, sometimes, if she truly was kin to a dynasty built on bones and blood, or if, perhaps, an angel had left her on the marble steps of the Summer Palace’s entryway at dawn’s break, a seraphic babe left to be raised by Paolish wolves. A stark foil to her sister, Asif often found it difficult to accommodate the pair of Paol heiresses. Camille’s company necessitated mindfulness of his more sinister proclivities: claws retracted, teeth sheathed, tongue kind. Daphne’s company, contrarily, coaxed from him all matters of sin and vice: claws sharp, teeth bare, tongue mean. And so Asif had to practice great care when passing between one sister and the next, mindful not to be too rough with Camille, cautious not too be too soft with Daphne. 

Her attempt at lying was positively tragic, and he had to make a conscious effort to choke quiet a laugh that scratched at the back of his throat. Lacking the finesse and confidence of a practiced liar, imbued to the brim with the chaste, sweet virtue of a truth-teller, she was a miserable liar, eyes aglow with alarm and cheeks flushed with the pink glow of nervousness. Her face, a bright-colored canvas painted in alternating shades of joy and sorrow, did little to obscure her innermost thoughts, instead forfeiting telltales of secrets. She was transparent, it seemed, and Asif’s lips twitched with subdued amusement at her attempts to play coy. How the fuck did she and Daphne share like blood?

Shaking his head, he clicked his tongue with playful disapproval, arms crossing over the wide breadth of his chest as he ambled nearer to her. “A walk about the castle?” he asked, parroting her excuse with obvious disbelief. “At this hour?” Gently, he reached out, placed his pointer and middle fingers beneath her chin, and tilted her bowed head upward, downcast eyes rising to meet his own. “You need lessons in lying, Princess,” he mused, eyebrows raised curiously. “Lesson one: don’t look down. Your doting subjects will be much more inclined to believe you if bewitched by those eyes of yours, I assure you.” Abruptly, his hand fell back to his side (he feared, sometimes, that if he touched her for too long, she’d scatter like dead leaves carried away by winter winds, falling out of his reach forevermore) and he considered her question with care and caution. “I fancied a swim,” he answered, voice flippant, lazy. Unlike Camille, and like Daphne, his silver tongue was well-practiced in the rotten art of half-truths, and lies sprang easily from his well of pretense. “Thought I’d take advantage of low tide.”

Camille’s routine had never been interrupted before, so she was off her game. Usually she could use her charm to steer people away from her strange antics and onto something else--- her art, Paol, politics. A smile perched on her lips, a touch to the other’s wrist, and they would forget all about their suspicions. She, however, did not do that with Asif. Perhaps it was due to her fatigue from her journey through the shadows, her bones aching for the comfort of her bed. Perhaps it was because he was her guard, a man who was trained to detect lies and suspicious actions. Either way, she had forgotten her charm and allowed her true feelings to show on her face. 

She tilted her head when he questioned her story. She didn’t believe her story to be too far fetched. Her castle was lovely, all marble columns and salty air from the ocean located just outside their doors. As a child she truly did wander around her home at strange hours, searching for hidden secrets in empty rooms and company to keep her entertained during sleepless nights. Her childhood had been filled with a restlessness, a need to do more and be seen. She watched as Victor focused on his royal duties, watched as Daphne found companionship in the shadows. Perhaps, she had found a short of companionship with the palace. It was truly the only one to know all of her secrets, after all.

Her eyes followed his movement as he lifted up her chin. Her hazel eyes met his blue eyes, and she couldn’t help but take note of his words. She could still feel the ghost of his touch as he pulled his hand away, her eyes watching him with an innocent curiosity as he spoke about his own circumstances. She felt her lips quirk up into a half smile before her arms crossed.

“A swim at this hour?” She spoke, tone slightly mocking as she copied his words. “Perhaps we both just had a restlessness in us tonight.” 

The night overflowed with wealth and exuberance in typical Summer Palace style, pride painted in broad strokes across the face of the Paolish people ( –  and the face for whom the celebration was for). Every Tsuki gaze their crown prince met burned with the same gleam of anticipation, the preemptive pride and excitement riled up by the event: our turn comes soon. 

Two years was an incredibly vast amount of time. Incredibly insignificant. 

Kou became intimately familiar with the refreshments being poured – it happened to work out as a pleasurable perk that nothing seemed to make the roaming circles of Paolish nobility happier than Tsuki royalty leading in a rousing toast to their new queen. Daphne, of course, received his congratulations as a matter of expectation. When Camille found him though, leaning against a column as he attempted to catch the sea breeze blowing in through the flung-open balcony doors lining the hall, the warmth in Kou’s smile had little to do with decorum. 

“If I get the chance to plan mine,” He stated with a snort, shifting to the lofty expression of someone steadfastly ignoring how little say he’d actually get in the final product as his nose wrinkled with distaste, ”Twenty people or less will be there and I’ll disappear from the Capital within the hour.”  He caught a fold in the skirt of Camille’s intricate gown between two fingers and gave it a playful tug, “So pack lightly.”

Kou gave her the order with a lopsided grin that defeated the flippancy in his voice, but his brows still drew together slightly, eyes flickering over all the cultivated loveliness of his childhood friend teetering in front of him. The princess drew light to her, she always had – but Camille’s sheen now looked more like a fever sweat than an afterglow of the country’s sun lingering on her skin. Her shoulders were drawn in close, rigid and tense. Kou trusted his eyes enough to not question the validity what he saw – but that didn’t make the question of Camille’s condition any easier to answer. Or, he thought with a flash of frustration, any easier to ferret out without her practiced, fleeting deflections.

“How much of the spectacle is your fault?” 

Seeing Kou was bittersweet. She of course loved remembering their play dates; back in their careless youth, where the biggest list on their agenda was to be ready for a snack break. The days where they would roll down hills and bury each other in the sand. Back when Victor and Yuna were set to take on the kingdoms and their only job would be to support them in their roles. How so many things have managed to change in what feels like so little time hurt Camille. How Kou went from the youngest to the king, a title she never thought he wanted for himself. How she went from the blushing muse of the kingdom to a girl who relies on an illegal substance to demonstrate that same shine. 

And that’s why she pulled away from Kou the last year or so. He’s her best friend, the one person who probably knew her best, and it would kill her to see him disappointed. She already fears being found out, but being found out by him would break her. She couldn’t live with the disappointment of herself for crushing his heart like that. Better to let people see the shine, but not the burning fever underneath. They can see the shimmer, not the shakes that take over her body when she attempts to refrain from the magic. Let them see the princess she is, not the hollow version she fears she’s going to become.

Stay away from Kou and Sunisa. That had been a soft reminder to herself, but she still had found herself wandering over to him like old times. She shook her head when he spoke about his ideal coronation before gently curving her body away from him-- just enough for that fabric of her dress to slip out of his fingers. 

“You assume I know how to pack light.” She teased, tilting her head as he spoke some more. Her eyes danced around the room at the opulence that overtook the ballroom. Her kingdom really went all out for the coronation, yet every time she had attempted to input her ideas she was told they would handle it. A shame, truly. Camille knew of beauty and art more than anything.

“I wish I could say any of this was my doing, but this was all Daphne. It’s her big day, so she designed it how she saw fit. She did a lovely job, don’t you think?”

The Bone Fortress always put the princess on edge. She didn’t understand why her brother preferred this place over their kingdom in Paol, especially when you compare the perpetual winters here to the bright summer days in their home country. No matter how many times Camille visits this kingdom she always feels like there’s this hollow emptiness to the country, this cold that chills her to her bones. It makes her sad to see her brother here. Victor, who shined as bright as the sun, shouldn’t be tucked away in a palace as dark and lonely as this. He should be with her and Daphne--- 3 elements ruling side by side. He should be waking up to the sound of the ocean. He should be going out and coming back two shades darker. He should be able to run along the sandy shores until duties pull him back to the palace. 

The more times she visits this place, the more times she fears she’s truly losing her brother. When he left Daphne had whispered into her ears-- he won’t be returning, we don’t need him anymore-- but she ignored it in hopes that her brother just needed some time to himself. Now, after seeing him again for god know how many times, she had a murmur in the back of her brain telling her maybe Daphne was right. She wanted to deny it so badly, so she had set out to seek her brother’s company and talk to him about her worries.

Sadly, Camille hadn’t realized how dark the hallways became after the sun set, and just how big the palace was. She had stumbled down the hall, trying to make out some shapes that were familiar to her, but everything just seemed to be a blur. Finally, she saw some movement up ahead and decided to call out to whoever had been the source of the movement.

“Victor?”