professional dabbler

        She wasn't sure why. Not sure what went wrong. It must be because she was too unpleasant in temperament, or maybe too ugly for his liking. But she knew that the war started partly because of the broken engagement. If they were still engaged, none of this would happen. Ever.

        Eula sat at the edge of her bed and stared towards the tall windows before her. The sky was as grey as ever, it was raining almost every day now, as if the sky knew how bleak her life was. This had been what she had been doing for days now. Sitting, wallowing in self-pity. 

        She wasn't so sure what else she would be good for, now that she couldn't even secure a good alliance with her engagement. She couldn't even fight for her kingdom, eight years since she last touched a blade. 

        Her strength wasn't good enough and so was her wit and resourcefulness. The council always let out this low groan, an exasperated sigh, or even a scoff as they rolled their eyes just out of sight. But Eula saw. She noticed, always have. Her ideas and thoughts worthless for the kingdom. 

        So she did nothing and waited for her brother's return.

        Evra has always been kind to her, and now even Sir Griffe had kept less of a scowl on his face. Almost all of the knights had left for the war, except for him, one of the best the kingdom have. He always stood tall, trailing behind her like a shadow. He's only three years older than her, yet he already accomplished so much that Eula can't help but feel envious of him. 

        Sir Griffe Quilton. 

        He insisted on staying to protect her, as always. And her brother agreed. Protect her from what, she's not even sure. She was completely safe here. But she was still thankful of his presence. Sir Griffe was not a comforting presence. He towered over his subordinates, eyebrows pulled into a scowl with a harsh stare that teeters into a glare. Paired with his sharp jawline, dark eyes, and close-cropped hair, Sir Griffe could've been handsome if he weren't so hellbent on intimidating everyone in his wake, even his own charge. 

        Eula knew better now that it was just his neutral expression, but when he had first sworn his sword for her, she was sixteen and was scared out of her wits.

        At least not anymore.

        Sir Griffe is a welcome presence now, even when he just stood there across the room, waiting and brooding as Eula sorted through the many portraits of noblemen and princes across the continent. Her mother slaved her days away looking for new prospects for her, someone who could both make her happy and help their kingdom during these times of war.

        It was all her fault. Her fault that war started. Just because she couldn't keep a one man interested in her. 

        She spent days sorting through the portraits of candidates, to ease her mother and to ease her worry for her brother and the kingdom's men and knights and soldiers and healers. She's spoiled and a brat, but not a monster. No matter what, their death will be (partly) on her stupid, stupid, unattractive hands. And she doesn't want any of her people to just perish for no reason at all. Especially if it was because of her stupid blunder. 

        Eula stared down at the portraits scattered across the table. Noblemen, mostly. She's seen some of them during banquets and the social season, but she had seen so many that their face now blurs into one. Still, a few stood out for her.

        Prince Oberon's uncle from his mother's side, fair and resourceful but forty and twice her age. How much of a revenge it would be, to marry and become the prince's aunt. 

        The Prince of Amaranth, her age but spoiled and a bit dense. Very similar to her. Maybe the both of them could find a lot of things to talk about in common. Or maybe the two of them would be fighting every day. 

        The son of The Blue Sun Company. A rich merchant himself, handsome but questionably devious. 

        Her mother has marked her top picks, but it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter if it wasn't Prince Oberon.

        Eula set down their pictures on the table and sighed. 

        "Are they not to your liking, Your Highness?"

        She glanced up at Sir Griffe. This was the first time he had spoken to her today, but he just stood there with full nonchalance, head turned ever so slightly to look at her. "It was not like that, Sir Griffe. It was just... "

        Was it right for her... to confide in her knight like this?

        He didn't react, just waited patiently for her to continue or to withdraw whatever vulnerability she had mistakenly shown. There really was nothing wrong with her mother's picks. Maybe Oberon's uncle would be too much, but that doesn't really matter to her if she could stop the war and bring peace for her people. 

        And yet... 

        She's too nauseous to even entertain the thought of being engaged to anyone ever again. What if they abandoned her again? She needs... 

        "I just need more time, just a little bit more. And which of them does not matter to me, what matters is what's best for the kingdom. My mother- I'd rather mother just choose for me." 

        His expression softened. Almost. He shifted his weight, breaking his perfect posture for a few seconds, "I know that it would be presumptuous of me to say, but I'm sure Her Majesty would understand, Your Highness."

        Her mother would, she knows. But she couldn't bear to... 

        Eula took a breath as her throat closed up, and her eyes blurs for split second. A look flashed across Sir Griffe's face, harsh features shifted into that of worry, "Your Highness... "

        "I am fine." 

        And just like that, she shuts down other's care for her again with practice. What the kingdom needs right now is the support of neighboring kingdoms, and she could give that by marrying someone of worth. A prince. It was to be decided. She won't let the kingdom down anymore. 

        Maybe. 

        But not right now, not this week, not this month.

        Nor this year. 

        Her throat closed up again, and she choked back a sob. 

        Not like this. 

        Eula shot to her feet, the chair behind her clattered. Undignified. "I'm sorry, I- I need to be alone" 

        "Your Highness-!" 

        She rushed out of the study, Sir Griffe at her heels, but she picked up her pace, desperate for a respite. The palace was teeming with maids and servants and she'd rather not have them see her in her pathetic state. She turned into a new twisting corridor, again and again and again but there was always somebody, a pair of eyes, an ear to the wall, waiting and spectating her breakdown. 

        This was too much. Too much. 

        So she left to the markets again, incognito. It was too late for her to realize that Sir Griffe was still hot on her heels, following her like the dutiful knight she is. Why?

        Why won't he listen to her?

        She wished to be alone, but that was still too much to ask. Eula whirled at him, ignoring the pairs of eyes pointed at them as she yelled at him in the middle of the streets, "Leave me! This is not a request but an order! You and your armor is drawing attention, and I'd rather be left alone!" 

        Sir Griffe stopped only inches away from her. His face is now back to the stern look he kept plastered on his face, and Eula instinctively stepped backward, unsure if he would keep his temper. She had never seen him truly angry, and even after the way she talked to him, he brushed them off easily. His handsome face twisted into a scowl, though she could glimpse a glimmer of hurt in his eyes.  "I understand".

        And just like that, he walked off into the crowds. 

        Eula didn't dwell on it for long as the crowds swept her deeper into the streets, and she found herself back in the alley she rushed into last month as she ran and ran from prying eyes, desperate to escape any kind of attention. 

        It's shameful. Shameful. 

        The only thing grounding her to the world is the feeling of the firm stone path under her feet as she trudged deeper into nothing. 

        "I could fix your broken heart with a few ways. A memory of the wretched prince locked away, or even a few well-placed curses, hexes, or even a potion for revenge....  With the right price, of course."

        The magic shop.

        Eula stopped in her tracks, unsure of where to go. Maybe... Maybe that white-haired clerk could help her. It was stupid and foolish. But if she could have even just a glimmer of hope, she'll take it. 

        If she could slip a potion into the crown prince... he did say he could arrange the potion to happen to spill into the prince's tea), and if she could get her engagement back, then everything could be fixed. She just had to pay a sum of money. And she had them the most. 

        She trudged deeper into the alleys, walked deeper and deeper aimlessly even as people whispered among themselves, as less savory individuals eyed her expensive shoes and jewelry until she found a shock of white.

        Argent? Eula remembered his name. 

        He totters across the empty alleyway, a board on his arm and the other swinging a basket of herbs. 

        Eula wasn't sure what she's doing, but she wrenched him back by the shoulder, "I'd like your potion, please!"

        Argent whirled as she pulls him back, face pale and shell-shocked as he jumped backward, "Wh-" 

        He stopped when he saw her face. He blinked, "... Your Highness?"

        "Yes!" she shot a glance behind her, making sure that Sir Griffe wasn't following her. God knows what he would do if he found out. She was turning to undignified means right now, but it didn't matter. She'd like this nightmare to be over. "You said you could help me with my problem, so please, I'll pay for however much you want!"

        Argent blinked. "... However much I want?"

        "However much."

        Prince Oberon doesn't have to love her. She doesn't need a love potion. The prince just have to remember that he's still engaged to her. He just have to forget that he was in love with that commoner. If money was enough to make that happen, then so be it. Argent took no time to consider his options, he immediately beamed at her, "Well then, let us talk in my shop, Your Highness."

        He led her further into the alley and to his shop. Halfway through, she realized the alley was deserted, and he could've arranged to kidnap and hold her for ransom. But before she could follow that string of thought to the end, she already found herself inside his shop, brightly lit but empty. 

        Argent was ever so friendly and courteous as he set up a table of tea and biscuits in his shop, pulling the only plush chair for her, a capitalistic smile plastered permanently as he chatted and probed her for more information. He was clearly in his element. Everything came out of habit as he poured her tea, which smelled too good for a shady magic shop at a cramped corner of a back alley. 

        "What do you have in mind for your ex-fiance, Your Highness? Would you like him back?" he set down the teapot carefully, the only teacup filled to the brim was hers. He didn't bother setting down a cup for himself. 

        Eula paused for a moment, letting the scent of the tea waft towards her, the warm cup against her fingers, though she didn't make any move to drink them. As stupid as she was, she wasn't that naive. "For a start, yes, that would be ideal."

        Argent leaned forward, brows furrowed, "I would like to be honest with you, Your Highness, but unfortunately, I have not mastered the art of love potions just yet."

        "I did not say he needs to love me," the hand on her lap gripped into itself, her nails digging into her own palm, but she ignored it and pushed on. "Just that our engagement is back intact. He could wake up one day and instead remember that we're still engaged... and then the war... "

        "... And the war can halt to a stop," a realization dawned on him, and he paled, but it didn't last long though his easy smile was now gone.

        Eula nodded, somewhat relieved that he caught on to her intentions quickly instead of dismissing her thoughts as that of a maiden in love. She still loved Prince Oberon, of course. But there were far more important things. The lives of her kingdom's men, for example. 

        Argent rushed to his feet to fetch something and came back with a scrap of paper and a pen on one hand, and a small plate of cookies on the other. Argent sat back down, setting the plate down for Eula as he went to work on his calculations and... She wasn't sure what he was writing, really. Erratic scribbles and stains and crossed out words, mistakes, mistakes, mistakes. 

        Eula didn't bother eating the cookies. Nor did she bother drinking the tea. A stranger. Questionable legality. Brews potions. She would never touch them. 

        "I could concoct a memory-altering potion... " he scribbled a few lines of what seems to be ingredients and numbers, "... And it would be important that the reason of the broken engagement will be erased off his mind as well, Your Highness?"

        Eula thought of the commoner girl Prince Oberon had his eyes on, imagined how she must compare to the girl and how different they must be that it have to be her. She imagine a beaming smile, innocent round eyes, a small and delicate frame, friendly, easy to approach, everything Eula wasn't, will never be. "Yes, he need to forget."

        Argent stopped. "... And that would be?"

        Eula's eyes flicked towards him, snapping. "And you should know about this?"

        "For the potion, Your Highness," a convincingly pitiful look on his face. "Or else I risk erasing all the prince's memories instead, God forbid."

        She'd rather not have him know. Does he have to know?

        She stared at the man sitting in front of her, his back against the chair, one hand holding the pen and the other elbow on the table, an almost disinterested look on his face as if he was just waiting for her to specify what color the potion should be. His apathetic attitude was almost comforting. 

        "The prince was in love with someone else. A commoner. At least, that was what he told me" 

        Argent grimaced, but didn't say anything. Instead, he scribbled down more ingredients and underlining a few of them, marking the last few lines, "Everything seems to be in order, Your Highness. Let me confirm something first, please."

        "Go ahead," Eula sighed. She needed to get back before dark or else she wouldn't be able to get out of these alleys until tomorrow morning. 

        "I will be concocting a memory-altering potion that will erase the prince's memories of a commoner he was in love with, and make him remember only that your engagement is still intact," he paused. "That is all the effects, simple enough with little to no side effects aside from a few headaches, nothing his best healers couldn't manage."

        Eula stared at him, trying to puzzle out if she really wasn't  scammed for this desperate act, "Yes, that is what I asked."

        "Alright then, as for the price-"

        "But how exactly will you arrange for the prince to take this potion?"

        Argent blinked, composure sliding out of place for a split second. "I have my contacts, Your Highness, and it is a trade secret that-"

        "How," Eula hissed between gritted teeth. "Exactly. Tell me or I will assume that this is a scam."

        He gripped his pen, leaning slightly forward as he anchored himself to the table between them, "Well, for a start-"

        "Quickly, now."

        "I would assume that the prince will be participating in the war? Ventor were infamous for hiring mercenaries. I know a few that have been hired already. They would drink and feast with the prince before they march off to war, it was almost too easy to sneak in the potion."

        "And how will the potion reach those mercenaries?"

        "Food and supplies. Healers. There are many ways, Your Highness", he tensed under her glare, "But if it comes to it, I could always ride a horse."

        Eula studied his expression, still unsure if it is really right to resort to such means, to trust such a person. Argent can only stare back stupidly at her. Catching on that she won't be believing him anytime soon, he sighed. "We could do it this way, Your Highness"

        "What way?"

        "The payment will be done in portions. First, just enough for me to use for the potions and bribes", Argent flicks the pen in his hand, "And if the potions work, I will receive the rest of the payment."

        "And how much would that be?"

        "2 million gold to start with, then 4 million after. Not a problem I assume, Your Highness? Nothing too much for the safety of our people."

        It was a lot of money. But it was something Eula have at her disposal. It barely left a dent in the royal treasury. "Fine."

        Argent stood, a satisfied smile blooming at the thought of a hefty sum of money. He might even be blushing from excitement as he held out a hand for her to shake, his cheeks darkening, though Eula's not so sure because of his dark skin, "It's a pleasure and an honor to be doing business with you, Your Highness Eula."            

        Eula sighed, reaching out her gloved hands to shake the deal with him-

        THUD

        He moved away from her in a blur. Something dark barreled into him, toppling him over.

        Argent hit the ground hard, then a knuckle to his face.

        "Sir Griffe!"

        The knight wrestled with the mage in a one-sided fight, now in plain clothes instead of the armor he donned proudly in the palace. Argent stayed on the ground, taking his blows with a grunt but making no attempt to fight back. He held his arm to face, covering himself though nothing much had changed as Sir Griffe have him pinned down, knees digging into his chest. 

        No.

        Eula tried to grab him, to stop him, but he was moving too quickly, "Sir Griffe! Please, stop! What are you doing!?"

        "What did you do to Her Highness!?" he barked out, pulling Argent by his collar. 

        "Sir Griffe! Stop!" her grip kept slipping off his arm as he moved to pull another punch. 

        "What the fuck do you think was I doing?" Argent drawled, blood trailing down his bruised lip, "I'm doing business."

        Sir Griffe drew back, fist clutched at his collar to pull him up, "Business? You're scamming her!"

        Argent only rolled his eyes, letting his head droop back as he was pulled higher off the floor by his lapels, "Oh please! Your princess wasn't that much of an idiot. In fact, she'll be ending the war single-handedly in just a-"

        "Watch your mouth!"

        Eula could only scream and yell at him to stop, pleading with him to just listen to her, "Sir Griffe! Just get off him! Please!"

        Her cheeks burned at the humiliation. She was the princess, and here she was begging the knight who swore an oath to her to listen to her. Sir Griffe didn't budge, instead, Argent's eyes trailed off to her, before it snapped back toward the knight. "Watch my mouth, you say? Watch your attitude and listen to her orders! She's your princess is she not?"

        "Give whatever you took from her-"

        "Sir Griffe, this is an order," Eula had enough. "Do what I say and get. Off. Him."

        Sir Griffe turned to her, jaw set as he gritted his teeth. "Your Highness, you don't understand. This man-"

        "Do you know this man, Sir Griffe? Do you know anything about him?"

        The knight blinked, his grip on Argent loosened and the white-haired man's head thudded onto the floor. "...No, but he's-"

        "Then do as I say and STOP!" her voice cracked, but it was more of an embarrassment that she have to throw a tantrum for her own people to listen to her. Barely anyone would listen to her, the council scoffed at her, her own sworn knight ignoring her words, her own fiance turned away from her. She could never seem to meet their expectations. 

        Argent gingerly peeled himself off the floor as the knight drew back. "Your Highness, do I get a tip for putting up with all this violence?"

        "And you, shut your mouth," Eula could feel her eyes tear up again. She felt like a child for throwing a tantrum. "What is it with you people!? None of you could just stop talking, stop assuming, I'm just doing what I can- None of you have ever lived in my shoes! What do you know of my life? What do you know of what's good for me? I-"

        Hiss.

        The three of them froze. 

        Hiss.

        The floorboards below them creaked, hissing so loud that it shook the wooden floor as if it was bubbling over, threatening to spill out. 

        And then it did. 

        The air grew heavy and humid and it reeked of sulfur. A stream of magenta vapor swirled up from between the floorboards, right in front of where Eula stood, particles of crimson mixed in. The stench almost sickening. 

        Eula stared at the stream of vapor, feeling her stomach drop into the abyss. 

        Miasma. The Gloom is back.

        "Your Highness!" Sir Griffe was already on his feet now, callused hand finding hers and pulling her out of the shop. 

        Eula threw a look over her shoulders as she was herded out of the shop yet again, watching as Argent stood alone in his now empty and messy shop, wiping the blood on his lips with the back of his hand. The miasma leaked from below the shop's floorboards, but instead of dealing with them, he looked at her. 

        She couldn't find anything, couldn't glimpse anything, couldn't understand anything. It was just his dark eyes. 

        Sir Griffe pulled her into a sharp turn, and the shop disappears from view. She could only stumble along as he navigated through the erupting chaos rippling across the crowds in the commercial district. Miasma leaked from the sewers, from the waterways, the floorboards, even the cracks in the stone paths. 

        It was hard to breathe, and she couldn't hear anything amidst the screams and panic of her people, but Sir Griffe pushed on, large hands firm on hers and never letting go. Everything was a blur as she stumbled after his long strides, jostled between crowds and droves of people. 

        And then she's back at the hallways of the palace, abandoning her people to fend for themselves on the streets, abandoning the illegal healer alone in his now miasma-infested shop. She was back at the palace with her sworn knight that wouldn't listen to her. 

        "Sir Griffe, why did you follow me?"

        He stopped, turning to her, a strange look in his eyes. He didn't say anything, eyes downcast. It reminded her of a large guard dog that would sulk while it was getting scolded. She stopped herself. It was quite rude to equate your own knight with a dog. "You wanted me to leave because I was attracting attention, so I merely stripped off my armor, Your Highness". His downcast gaze flicked up to hers, "I can still guard you as long as I wasn't attracting attention, can't I?"        

        Eula couldn't help but stomp her feet towards the ground like a petulant child, feeling stupid. "Don't twist my words! You know well what I meant, Sir Griffe-"

        "Your Highness, please," Griffe let go of her hands, teeth gritted, "What would have happened to the kingdom if something were happen to you? What would have happened to your aides? They would be held responsible, the kingdom will be in disarray without you!"

        And here she foolishly thought he cared for her. She rolled her eyes, "Oh please, the kingdom doesn't need me, the kingdom have my brother! I'm just good to be married off to, is that it?"

        A flash of hurt ghosted over his face, but she couldn't understand why. Sir Griffe looked at her as if she had just slapped him. "Your Highness, I-"

        "Your Highness Eula!" a voice behind her called out.

        Eula turned towards the fields. A soldier stumbled down from his horse, looking equally worn, bloodied and dirty. From his uniform, a messenger from the frontlines. He's gasped for breath, tripping forward into the palace corridors, his muddy boots leaving stains on the marble floors. "Your Highness the miasma-"

        He coughed, stumbling forward until he stopped in front of her. 

        "Yes, the miasma has broken throughout the town," she kept her voice low and level, hoping the soldier's panic will wane in the face of her calm, though her voice trembled and her head spun from the stench. "Please rest and collect yourselves, we will have the city guards handle this matter. Now what of the frontlines, soldier?"

        The soldier paled even further, gasping for breath as his eyes teared up, "The miasma broke out in the battlefield one week ago. His Highness had perished while protecting the soldiers." 

        "What is the matter, Your Highness?" she kept her poise, years and years of practiced patience. 

        "You want me to meet His Highness Oberon wearing that?" Eula thrust her fingers towards the ugly piece of clothing, fingers shaking, "Were you hoping that I lost this engagement?! Trying to turn me into a joke are we?"

        In the face of a royal family's outburst, her eyes only crinkled as Eula fumed. She sighed, almost apologetically, but did not bother to give Eula the satisfaction of such obedience. "Apologies, Your Highness, it seems my habit of seeing you as a child is quite hard to grow out of."

        Eula grits her teeth at her words, but she has more pressing matters, and she could never stay mad at Evra for long, "Bring me something else then"

        "Of course, Your Highness", she bowed and swept out to pick out a new dress for her, the rest of the useless, tactless maids scurrying after her. 

        Calm down, she couldn't lose her temper like this in front of the prince. 

        Oh, Prince Oberon Werner. Crown prince of Ventor, a kingdom rich with ores with their many mountains and mines. Paired with her kingdom of commerce and harbors, their marriage would be a historic moment. She would rule his kingdom by his side as his queen. It was like something out of the fairy tale books she had read so often, something she dreamt of as she grew up.          

        She would pray every night that this engagement would never fall through. She's nothing without it, just a useless princess, unloved, riding the coattails of her brother the king

        Prince Oberon is so gentle towards her, so patient and encouraging even when she didn't say much. He'll kiss the back of her hand and reassure her, it was enough that the beautiful her is there next to him, he looks at her and assure her that she's enough as she is. He's like a dream, too good to be true, but if it is the truth, then she doesn't need anything else. 

        Prince Oberon needs to stay interested in her. 

        The maids came back in a blur, now with a royal blue dress, darker, with detailed lacework and less tacky frills, the skirt layered with a crisp, sheer, light fabric to give her dress volume. The buttons running down the top were silver, engraved with wolves. Prince Oberon's House Symbol. 

        "Good", she nodded in approval before standing up, letting them help her into the dress, braiding her ash blonde hair, so dark it was almost brown, with pearls and flowers. Her maids work with practiced hands, but the newer ones worked with trembling but deft hands. She chose to ignore such carelessness. "Has the prince arrived yet, Evra?"

        The prince is visiting the kingdom for business talks today, but he chose to meet her this morning as soon as he arrived for tea before he went to meet her brother. 

        "He has arrived, and is on his way to the gardens, Your Highness."

        "Hurry up then", she snapped, and they worked even faster. She couldn't keep him waiting, not that he would ever complain. Prince Oberon has always been too nice to say anything, but he would have this smile he would give her when his patience run thin. 

        They dressed her up and she slipped into a simple, low-heeled shoes before sweeping out of her room, her pace quick and brisk as she made her way to the gardens in front of her palace. The maids behind her are practically running to keep up with her long strides, their height and legs too short to follow. 

        The gardens in the palace are full of hydrangeas, the greens bursting with purples and blues, surrounding a gazebo overlooking a small pond with lotuses and water lilies floating gently on the surface. A soft rustles of leaves and trickle of water, Prince Oberon sat quietly inside the gazebo, the maids already serving him tea with milk. The sun filtered through the trees into the sheltered space, turning his brown hair golden. 

        On the table in front of him are two cups for them, a platter of candied fruits, and a box of sweets from a patisserie in Ventor. He must've brought them for her.

        Her favorite.

        She could feel her heart skip a beat, but Eula pushed on, she's kept him waiting for long enough. As she approached, he raised his head and beamed at her, immediately standing up to escort her to the table, "It has been a while, how have you been, Princess Eula?"

        "I have been well, Prince Oberon", she smiled at him as he led her to the table, her hand in his, warm and gentle. Elegance, grace, hospitable. "And how is your journey? You must be tired from the long trip.

        The prince let out a quiet laugh as they sat down, "It was nothing if I could see your face."

        Eula face twitched, You came her to see my brother, I was just on the way. 

        But she kept her mouth shut and kept the smile plastered on her face as they sat and the maid poured more tea for them. Everything is fine as long as she did not address the problem itself. It always worked that way. 

        Silence. 

        They never have much to talk about, and he must be tired from long journey. Maybe he's just as nervous as she was, if not a little shy (she dared to hope). But nevertheless, there was no need to fill the silence for her. His presence was enough. 

        A bird swept over the pond rustling the trees surrounding the gazebo before taking flight again, scattering leaves that fell into the water. 

        "Oh, I brought you these," Prince Oberon went and opened the box of sweets on the table, glazed pastries and chocolate sweets, "Your favorites."

        Her chest is full of warmth. The prince who noticed her across the ballroom, the only person brave enough to approach the princess of Laureate, even with her in her boring formal royal garments and traditional- Oh no, did he prefer conventional? Maybe she should've worn the ugly, pink, frilly dress?

        "Thank you prince, this meant a lot for me," Eula motioned towards Evra, and she came forward to bring her gift for him. A simple brooch he could wear with his less formal wear. Small and golden, with simple shapes and purple amethyst gems that contrasted against his blue eyes. "I have also prepared something for you... To remember me by when you're away."

        He blinked and stared at the box of brooch in front of him, confusion ghosting over his features before he smiled at her, "Thank you, my lady. I'm sorry that I cannot come more often" 

        "No, it was... I was not complaining," she rushed to correct her words. It was a stupid mistake, it was enough that he has come to see her. What if he thought she was being clingy? That she was acting like a child?

        But the prince just let out a small laugh before drinking his tea and taking a candied lemon from the platter. 

        Silence. 

        She watched as he drank his tea, perfect postures and long fingers, a new ruby ring she has never seen before on his index finger. Is it new? 

        The way the sunlight hits his hair makes him ethereal, as if he was a spirit that came to bless the heroes before their quest. His eyes are even bluer than the skies above. It drifted towards her. 

        Eula tore her gaze off of him. Oh no. He caught her staring. 

        The prince blinked and looked away to stare at his cup of tea. He took a deep breath before his eyes are back to her. He set down his tea. 

        "Princess Eula."

        She blinked, "Yes?"

        "I need to talk to you about something" 

        Why does he look so serious? Was he perhaps... going to propose?

        No, no, calm down. She couldn't get ahead of herself. 

        "Please, I'm listening," she set down her cup of tea, keeping herself from leaning forward in her seat. 

        He took a deep breath. 

        Is it really going to happen?     

        He started, "You have always been so kind and sweet."

        Eula could hear a few older maids shifting behind her in protest, those bastards. She knows she was far from how the prince see her as, but what of it? Everybody wants to look the best in front of their love. 

        "I cannot lie to you any further, Princess Eula, it's not right," he reached for her hand and grasped hers in his, warm and delicate, "I am in love with somebody else."

        Eula stared at him. What? 

        "Oh."

        "I did not come here to speak business with your brother. I am here to break off our engagement. I'm sorry princess Eula."

        The gardens spun around her. Where did it go wrong. Is it her dress? It took everything for her to keep her poise, to keep herself from throwing herself at his feet to cry and beg and plead. Why?

        "If I may know, who is it?" Eula pried her hand away from under his. It slid pathetically atop the table before she laced them together and letting them grip each other, anchoring herself to her seat. 

        He shifted, face falling as he watched her, "A... A commoner from my kingdom. But please, she didn't do anything wrong"

        A commoner? He chose a commoner over her? Her?

        "What is she like?"

        She just hoped the maids behind her didn't hear anything, she could only hope the earth open up and swallow her whole, or maybe she should dive into the pond after he left. After all that many tantrums she threw, surely the maids has lost all the respect they have for her. Maybe they'll have enough decency to just let her perish right then and there under the waters. 

        "She's.. She's such a sweet, innocent girl. A bit naive, even, and a bit shy", he smiled, "She could be a bit old-fashioned with her tastes, but it doesn't matter to me, she-"

        Eula has already stopped listening. 

        Oh no.

        Evra was right, and Eula was just a stupid spoiled brat.

        She should've worn that frilly pink dress.

        Eula wasn't sure how she came back to her bedroom. She could only remember the prince going to meet her brother, and her stumbling her way through the stone path from the gazebo. She sat dazed on her bed, the maids standing in attention, warily watching her. Their youngest, the newest addition flinched whenever Eula shifted. 

        Stupid cowards. Do they think she'll throw a tantrum and blame them for this?

        She doesn't even have any energy to raise her voice. 

        "I was wrong. I should have worn that stupid, frilly, pink dress you lot brought me"

        Evra's eyes widened, she rushed to where Eula sat and knelt down to take her hands in hers, "Your Highness, that prince is.. That prince is in the wrong, not your taste in dresses."

        "Surely, if I wore something more conventional, if I suit his tastes more, the engagement.. The engagement-" she choked a sob, before she waved towards the rest of the maids, "Leave us, you are all dismissed for today."         

        It has to be the dress. What else would be wrong? She acted the way every noble lady would, with poise and grace and elegance, she acted perfectly, she's virtuous and charitable. She made visits and half of her monthly expenses went to orphanages and public kitchens and hospitals and schools. 

        "Surely, he wouldn't care much about it, Your Highness. it was just a color, and you look lovely no matter what you wear." 

        She should've known better. Evra has always wanted the best for her, she'd known her since childhood, was like the older sister she never had (and she was the terrible, bratty, little sister).

        But if it wasn't the dress, then it must've been her that he deemed not good enough, so it must have been the dress, or else she won't be able to take the blow. 

        It must be the dress.

        The following days were a blur of gray.

        Every time she looks at the sky, everything looks bleak. 

        Then a blur of blue.

        She spent most of her time inside a bathtub with her azure bath salts, crying and trying to drown herself.

        And a blur of white, her pillows and sheets, wet from her tears. She must've cried so pathetically, even though she tried her best to hide them from even her maids. The youngest of them was not even scared of her anymore. She dismissed them early every day, they're practically on vacation for the whole week, but her brother and mother stopped by worried, nevertheless.

        A few nobles close to her sent gifts and a few merchants sent her dresses and- Oh, they must've saw how pathetic she is, abandoned by the crown prince for some old-fashioned average woman who doesn't even know how to wear leather. If only she's sweeter, if only she's more personable, friendlier, more- 

        "Your Highness," Evra swept the curtains of her room open, and the sunlight went inside to laugh at her sorry state on the bed. "Should we take a walk in the city, today? The weather is nice today."

        Eula stared out the window, the sky is still grey today, as if it was going to rain soon, but the sun shone bright and the air was cool. 

        "Please, Your Highness, just the two of us? Even Sir Griffe doesn't have to know"

        Evra is readily offering to sneak her out into the city without her knight guard knowing? She must've look pathetic right now, then, to have her spoil her this much. 

        "We could buy some chocolate cake, and even look at the smithy, if you'd like?"

        The smithy. She has always liked to look at how the swords are made, not that she's allowed any chance to come close enough to one. She's a princess, after all. It was unbefitting for a lady to touch weapons, and even more so for one to come close to the sweltering heat of the smithy. I would ruin her flawless skin. But the way an expert work with the metal, refining them and shaping them into something that could be used to protect is almost magical for her. 

        "...Fine."

        So Evra went to sneak her out the palace. When Eula was younger, she has always sneaked out to the city alone, and Evra was always the one who managed to catch her on the way, if not track her down in the city itself. It was when she was older that she realized Evra must've often sneaked out herself, and that must be how she was able to always tell where she is. 

        Hells, Evra was better than her when it comes to sneaking out.

        Sir Griffe, her personal knight escort waits outside the room, so they left through the balcony, dropping down onto the study below. She guided her along empty hallways at just the right time so that the rotation of guards are none the wiser, then across the gardens along just the right path so that their steps didn't scatter any stones.

        They circled around the fountains in front of Eula's palace before turning left to the side gate where the cargo comes in from, through a soil path curving between the trees, and then through a small metal gate towering over them. Evra deftly picked the locks for them, and it swung open with ease. 

        The city was bustling, the same as the rare times she's able to come here. Evra guided her towards the shops and restaurants. Sweets first then, before they went to the smithy. 

        "What is wrong you? I'm a customer!"

        A voice rang loud and clear among the bustling streets, a man dragged out of the sweets shop they're about to enter. Two people hauled him outside as he struggled, hair all mussed up and face red from screaming. Someone else followed him out calmly, the owner of the shop, judging by the apron around his waist. The owner scoffed as he pushed the tomato-red man further out of this shop."We don't serve Ventor citizens. Not after what your shameless prince did to our princess."

        Eula's stomach dropped. 

        It wasn't enough that she went out to escape from her thoughts, now the whole kingdom and even the commoners are pitying her, looking down on her for her pathetic failure. How embarrassing. As if her pathetic failure is not enough, everyone is yelling about it? This must have been a cruel joke played by The Gods. 

        The red-faced man didn't back down, "And what of it? It was your king who drove up import taxes so far up their ass. How could our prince keep his loyalty to such a kingdom!? He would be killing his people for sticking to such an alliance!"

        Import taxes?

        Evra clutched at Eula's wrist immediately, adamant and sure that she would pounce on the Ventorian for insulting her brother, but Eula stood there, rooted in place. She wasn't sure what she should be more angry about, that some foreigner are insulting her brother in such a way, or the realization that her brother drove up the import taxes for Ventor. 

        How could he? Prince Oberon is her fiance, Ventor would be where she would rule in the future.

        Is this why she's abandoned? Thrown aside? 

        Her brother's fault? 

        A crowd formed around their squabble now, more people shouting obscenities at one another. A barmaid hefting bottles of alcohol set down her cargo to pull a lady from Ventor by her hair, a young boy pulled a middle-aged-man by the collar. 

        "That cheating bastard prince!"

        "What did you just say? Your princess is a spoiled downer! She only have her face going for her!"

        "Her Highness Eula doesn't deserve this!"

        Eula watched the growing crowd in horror, feeling sick to the stomach. She turned away to find a less crowded spot, but even more people arrived to watch the mess, blocking her way to even leave and go and hide herself in a hole. Her breath came short, it was getting harder to breathe. The crowd's face was a blur. 

        There.

        Next to the sweets shop, are an alleyway. Clean and bright, with flowerboxes decorating the bare walls. 

        Eula pried Evra's hand off her wrist, practically running into the alley, voices a messy cacophony around her.

        "Milady-!" Evra hissed, but stopped herself from calling her by her title. She rushed after her as she ran further in the alleys. "Asha!"

        It turned and curved behind the shops on the main streets, houses and warehouses, until it led her to a building at the corner of the alley. 

        Varun's. Trinkets, cures, and potions.

        She could still her the clamor behind her, the crowd growing and growing, louder and louder, and she had nowhere to go. Maybe the shop had something that could finally fix her stupid, stupid failures, maybe she just needs a quiet place to wallow in her self-pity. It doesn't matter. She entered, Evra rushing after her close as she hissed, still panting and out of breath, "Is-.. Is this shop even legal? Let's return-"

        The shop was full of rack upon racks of trinkets and antiques lining the walls, a counter dominating the majority of the room. It smelled of herbs and smoke and metal, the shop empty, save for two customers, sitting on one of the guest tables and a clerk behind the counter. 

        A middle-aged man with orange, curly hair lit up as she entered, practically vaulting over the counter to greet her, "Welcome, welcome! Can I help you, dear customer? Please, sit down, what are you looking for?"

        The man is bulky with a pot belly, nothing magical or witchy about him. He smells faintly of blood, an apron splattered with blood thrown haphazardly over the counter. This shop felt like a scam.

        "What do you have?"

        "Anything you need, of course!" he beamed, guiding them further inside as he motioned towards the shelves, "Brews and teas for your fatigues, pastes and scents and oils for your weariness, and even potions and cures!"

        "Potions?"

        "Yes! Potions!" he picked a clear bottle of violet liquid, the contents sloshing haphazardly, "To turn your hair blue, as a prank to make your enemies hiccup, or even to make you fire resistant, we have them all, anything you need!"

        Eula had no problem acquiring various potions from the palace's alchemy reserve, but the man beamed proudly, confident that he could deliver anything she asked him for. "All, you say?"

        "Any needs!"

        She's not sure why asked, maybe she's curious, maybe it was his overly confident stance, his overeager motioning towards all the potions on the racks, maybe she just wanted to mess around or maybe it was because she's desperate, "Do you have a love potion, then?"

        The man barked out a laugh slapping his hand over his knee, "Ha! What are you? The lovesick Princess Eulalia? Good one! If we have one of those, we would've sent some her way. Maybe she'll manage to keep the wolf prince then."

        Evra grip went to her wrist again, but this time, Eula moved faster. She strode up to the laughing man, laugh faltering as he realized she was not joking. She ripped the bottle off his hands and shattered them on the ground, the purple liquid sizzling on the floor. 

        "How could you?" her voice shook, fist tight. Her eyes started to water again, but she fought them back, "Is my suffering funny to you?"

        The two customers behind them stood, chairs clattering as they stumbled backwards, one pushing the other out of the shop, "Get Arjun, quick!"

        The clerk just held his hand, scratched from her nails when she wrestled the bottle away from him, she realized. His mouth was open as he stared at her as if she just grew two heads right in his shop. Evra stepped forward, forcing herself between Eula and the man, trying to keep his attention away from Eula. "Forgive me, are you alright?"

        The clerk ignored her, instead turning to Eula with wide eyes, face paling, "Your.. Highness.. Eulalia?"

        Her eyes started to water. Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic.

        Why was she even here? Having an outburst in the middle of an illegal magic shop? Taking out her anger on some man just eager to make a sale, just some man with a stupid, insensitive joke, when she should've been angry towards the prince, or even towards her own brother for driving her fiance away?

        The bell above the shop door jingled again, and someone new entered behind them. The steps didn't falter, coming closer to them. It's confident even, quick and precise. 

        Eula shuffled backward, fingers numb, she had to leave, she couldn't - "I.. I-"

        "I should stop leaving my shop in your hands, Garon. You kept insulting my customers", the voice behind her spoke, and she turned around. 

        A young man around her age stood behind her, with brown skin and white wavy hair, the length not quite right to be done in that hairstyle, tied loosely into a half-up ponytail, and oh Gods that horrid white hair full of split ends, he must've washed them every day in whiteberry juices that it's gone both dry and clumpy just to keep that tacky color. He turned to her. 

        "I apologize for my... assistant's remarks, Your Highness", he bowed to her, "Please, sit down, I will make you some tea. Do not worry about the mess, this is... ", his eyes darted down towards the sizzling remains on the floor, trying to identify what bottle of his merchandise he had just lost. He continued too quickly, "It's nothing of value."

        Eula watched as he stepped away to heal the clerk's scratch, blue light illuminating the shop. Illegally, she noted, with no ring of permit on his fingers. Every healer and magician that has graduated from the academy was granted one, and it was mandatory to wear them at all times, especially when treating patients. A legal healer wouldn't be running a shady magic shop, anyways. 

        The clerk's dark eyes drifted towards her, still watching them, and she shifted uncomfortably. 

        She shouldn't have thrown that bottle, she should have apologized. That's what a good noble does. They admit their wrongs even toward those below them. But why did he talked so lightly about her problems the way he did? 

        Eula was about to step forward to open her mouth, unsure if she was supposed to berate him or apologize to him when the white-haired clerk turned to her, the first clerk behind him scurrying away immediately along with the glass fragments, all swept and mopped up.

        "Welcome to my humble shop, Your Highness. My name is Arjun. How can I help you?" his smile was... capitalistic. He's eager to make a sale, knowing the weight of her gold waiting in the palace reserves. 

        "I..."

        Arjun stepped closer to her, smile still plastered onto his face as he leaned closer to whisper to her conspiratorily, "I apologize for my rudeness, but... If this is about your... Ah, recent problems, I could help."

        Eula blinked, "How?"         

        He warily glances towards Evra, now sat behind her, before steering Eula away to a corner of the shop for more privacy, "I could fix your broken heart in a few ways. A memory of the wretched prince locked away, or even a few well-placed curses, hexes, or even a potion for revenge....  With the right price, of course."

       The exact same promise as the clerk from before.

        "Whose shop is this, exactly?"

        "It's mine, Your Highness. I had to step away for a moment, so..." he smiled sheepishly, "The butcher next door had to keep an eye on the shop for me."

        Eula narrowed her eyes. If she had another outburst, would another person come in to claim that this is their shop? 

        "We do not have love potions, however. It seems I still have much to learn."

        "So you are offering me petty hexes to get back at the prince?"

        "Oh, I wouldn't say petty", he smirked, "My hexes are-"

        "I'm sorry, but My Lady has better things to do than have herself scammed by the likes of you", Evra dragged her by the wrist before she could say anything.

        Arjun did not move to follow. He only smiled at them, the light barely reaching his eyes, "Very well then. I will always be here, Milady." 

        She threw one last dirty look at Arjun before she swept Eula out of the shop. "This place is bad news. We shouldn't be here for too long." 

        "I won't get myself scammed, Evra," Eula hissed. "I was just curious."

        But she didn't let go, frowning as she threw another wary look at the shop behind them, whispering so harshly it was barely appropriate to direct to a royal, "Even if you sneak out alone without me, Milady, please. Never ever come back to that shop"

        She knew her too much, but she wouldn't promise on anything she couldn't keep her word on. "Let's just go back", Eula sighed, "I'm sick of hearing what these commoners think of my broken engagement."

        "Yes, of course, My Lady", Evra smiled at her, relieved that she didn't have to drag her away from the shop. They cut through the training grounds by the palace this time, no more reason to hide and scurry around.

        The knights are in training, and even her brother, always averse to combat and swordsmanship, is training. She never belonged there, of course. It was below her to dirty her dress and hands, a proper princess did no such things.

        Admittedly, she had learned a few of the steps once, during the times both her and her brother were free enough to play around. She was a quick learner and had mastered it even faster than her brother, but the king (though her father's dead now, an accident during a hunt) and the queen hated the idea. What kind of kingdom would let their dainty princess hold a sword? And she agreed, it was ridiculous and she's above doing such laborious things. So why is exactly her brother doing these drills he seems to hate so much?

        The groundskeeper sweeping the side of the fields bowed at her as she approached, "Welcome Your Highness! Are you on a walk? The weather is clear today."

        "Yes," she nodded at the old man, and he smiled, crow's feet forming at the side of his eyes. Eula watched as his brother sparred with one of his generals. Losing. He's a monarch, not a knight, after all. "It is unusual for His Majesty to train at this time of the day."

        "Did you not know, Your Highness? We're declaring war on Ventor."

        Eula stared at the groundskeeper, then at her brother across the field. Her stomach plunged down to the ground. She wished she could just melt down into the cracks in the dirt right then and there.

        The sky turned even greyer.

        A daughter did not count as a child. It's all do-overs, and do-overs, and do-overs, until there are five of us, and I sometimes wonder just how it is, that my mother has managed to stay alive despite all the never-ending labors she went through with that small body of hers. 

        If only I was born as a man.

        I am sorry, mother, for being a woman. I've caused you so much pain, so much pointless suffering. 

        Why am I even born when my own father looked at me as if I was thin air? 

        When my own mother barely had any time to look at me, forever slaving away to serve her husband, to serve Danae, to serve Perseus, Perseus, Perseus, it was always, always, always Perseus. 

        If only Lady Hera had followed through with her wrath and had cut off Lord Zeus's dick. There was no ill intent in my words, nor did I mean to disrespect Lord Zeus. I just thought that without his love affair in play, he would become a much better ruler. Maybe he'll mellow out. At least this way, there won't be some golden boy living in my house.

        Perseus. 

        I watched from atop our boat as he sparred with my father on the sandy beaches of Seriphos.

        He lunged towards my father, a sword in his wooden, grip sloppy. My father ducked under him, grabbed at his ankles to pull him down, but Perseus flew back, sand and dirt scattering from below his sandals. 

        Sloppy.        

        I could've done better. 

        "Lilika!"

        My eyes slowly went to focus to see my father looking at me. Ah, the only time he went to call his eldest. To fetch water. "Yes, father?"

        "Don't just stand there, now, run along and fetch some water for Perseus."

        Hell no.

        "Yes, father."

        I turned towards the well and slowly picked my way across the field, behind me, I could hear Perseus say, "Uncle, you shouldn't be so harsh to her".  

        I slowed my pace. Maybe having him parched could stop him from running his mouth. 

        "She could afford to do this much", the sound of a hand on his shoulder, "She has always been a lazy girl, even before you were here. She doesn't sew, she can't cook, she just stares off to watch us spar every day. The only ones in our family strong enough to haul the waters are me, and her. She should do this much at least"

        Lazy?

        Lazy?

        I woke up before Apollo even rose to draw his chariot, took the boat out in the dark, half-blind and cold, and prepared them all for his journey. He woke later, eating the breakfast my mother made, only for him. None for me.

        I readied the boat for him to take to sea. While he was away, I wove the net and made the spears for tomorrow. When he returned, I would haul the catch to the marketplace to sell them and fight whoever tried to rob me on the way home.

        On an empty stomach.

        By the time Apollo was more than halfway through his journey, I was already home with pouches and pouches of coin and whatever it is that Mother needed for the day to feed us all. 

        I was tired and I was up before anyone else, so I went to watch them spar while I wove the nets and make the spears. 

        When Father was sick, did Perseus go instead? In the blinding darkness? 

        No. I did. 

        The few times he was too busy playing mentor and hero with Perseus, I had gone out into the open seas with no net and only a few fishing spears and went home hauling a whale.  Maybe Poseidon felt bad for my pitiful life, or maybe he was trying to get to Danae through me. Nothing better than your brother's mistress, after all. 

        But I brought home more whales than Perseus nonetheless. 

        I'm lazy?

        "I'm strong enough, I can do that much as well. I'll help her," Perseus chuckled behind you, the scuffle of his sandals on the sand. 

        Oh fuck no.

        "You've always been a kind boy, Perseus", my father laughed, and I could hear Perseus walking up from behind me.

        "Lilika!"

        I slowed my pace, narrowing my eyes so that I did not roll my eyes at him. I turned to him. "Yes?"

        "I should help you."

        "Of course you should, I'm your older sister."

        He laughed and slowed his pace to walk next to me, "I'm sorry, sister"

        I can't lie and say that I don't despise him, because I do. I envy him. I don't want to blame him for being born as a man, the same way it is not my fault I was born as a woman. And yet everyone treated us differently.

        We walked in silence, the sands shifting beneath us and the waves crashing so close to my feet, sprinkling sea water onto my legs. The cool water beckoned at me, giving me promises of its soothing embrace. I ignored them.

         We've never talked much. Perseus has always been busy being spoiled, and I was always too busy doing what is apparently a thankless job. 

        He walked in silence with me for a short while, before he decided to ruin my peace. "He's wrong. You're not lazy."

        My hands twitched at my side, "You don't have to tell me that. I know that."

        I wished he weren't such a clueless, naive, idiot. Maybe then it would be easier to hate him. 

        We arrived at the well and I picked up the bucket, throwing it down into the water, I reached forward to take the rope, and Perseus rushed to wrench it away from me. The rope roughly scraped against my grip, my palm stinging as I watched him fix his grip on the rough  "You should let me do this, sister."

        I bit back a retort and let him bask in what seems to be his glorious and chivalrous moment. The palm of my hands hurt like hell. 

        "Let us spar sometimes."

        Perseus turned to me with wide eyes, his hands stopped, and hesitated for a split second before he continued pulling for the bucket of water, "Uncle won't like that."

        "Why? He won't punish you."

        He cautiously turned to me again, watching me as I fiddled with the dagger in my hands. The one I use to carve the spear handles.

        I know what he's thinking. He's a simple little brat, I know exactly what he's thinking.

        'Lilika.. Can fight? Can sister fight? Sister can... fight? But she's only been watching us. But she's.. '

        I can. I sneaked out in the middle of the night with Melina, the second oldest, to spar. We won't know if it was even the right way to hold a sword. We can only emulate, but it was fun nonetheless, and she has always dreamt of being a hero. 

        If not, I'll either find the Amazons or join Lady Artemis's hunting group, she said. It could've been better than living here.

        I agree. But we couldn't leave yet with Elena, Areti, little Cora, and mother stuck here. 

        Perseus opened his mouth, trying to find a better way to turn down my challenge, and I laughed, "I'm just kidding of course. What do I know about sparring?"

        "Of course!" he barked out a laugh, as if it all made sense. 

        Suit yourself and your nut-sized brain, Perseus. 

        Father may have liked him more than his own daughters, he may have even despised me, the first of his strings of disappointment, but the feeling is mutual. I wished he would go out to fish one morning, and get lost in the sea. I wished Poseidon was sick of his attitude and decided to smite him.  

        But birds of a feather flock together. Poseidon and Zeus would've liked my father quite well. 

        A missed strum of a lyre rang throughout, and Perseus cursed as he whipped around to look towards their house. He turned so fast I was sure his head would've flown off his neck, but it thankfully stayed intact. 

        King Polydectes must have come again, to make a fool of himself. Every day, he played court jester for Danae, singing her praises, giving her his paintings (not very good, didn't look like her at all. It looked like a hairless pig), showering her with gifts of songs, letters, cuts of quality meat, and coin. 

        Perseus dropped the buckets and the sword he was carrying. He started towards their house, knowing what was waiting for him.

        His sandals scattered the sand as he ran, desperate to arrive as fast as he could. He has always been overprotective of Danae, no man could ever approach her. He would threaten to beat them if they even looked at her. Not intimidating in of itself to be threatened by a scrawny 15-year-old, but rumors of his lineage had kept most at bay. The rest scampered off when King Polydectes took interest in his mother. 

        I picked up Perseus' sword and started after him, desperate to keep him back from mauling The King. He was not a good ruler nor a good man, but he's still the king nonetheless. 

        If only Lady Athena blessed him so, maybe he'd either won Danae over already, or he would know enough to leave her alone with her subpar reactions.

        Save us all from Perseus's weekly tantrums. 

        We stopped by the doorway, my sisters arranged to stand at the side of the room as King Polydectes sat on the biggest chair in the house. Danae stood straight in front of him, smiling with dead-fish eyes with my mother standing next to her with the exact same expression. We were unlucky to arrive just in time to hear the last snippet of the king's creation. 

        Today, King Polydectes chose to present her with a vulgar, vulgar poem, and I couldn't see in which part of his life could he possibly think that it was something a grown woman would swoon over. 

       ...

        Alone at night, I lay in my bedchambers. Thoughts wandering. Of your hair and your smile. 

        And your mound. 

        O, Danae, let me bask in your scent. And take me in your arms. You had me beguiled. 

        Let me be around. 

        I could understand why Perseus was mad today. I want him to slap the king across the face as well, even if he was my uncle. Unfortunately, I can't let that happen. 

        Perseus shifted his weight, slowly moving to shield his mother from the King's roving gaze. 

        My hands lashed out to grip at his arm, pulling him back, and I could only stop him just before the King noticed him. I stepped closer and hissed at him, "Hold it in, Perseus. If King Polydectes lost his temper, all of us would be harmed. Not just you." 

        He looked over his shoulders with wide eyes, his jaw trembling, and I glimpsed something I didn't recognize. He gritted his teeth, "Then what else should I do? I can't take this anymore, Lili. I had enough!" 

        "Perseus, I swear to the Gods, if you-"

        "King Polydectes!" he bellowed, his voice rang loud and clear. Quite a surprise when his voice was far from deep or loud, far from anything suitable to bellow with. 

        The King turned at him and smiled a greasy, greasy smile. It took everything I had to keep my grip on Perseus an not smack the old man over the head myself. "Ah! Perseus, my son-"

        "Do not call me that," Perseus growled over gritted teeth, "You will never become my father, and I will do anything to keep you from seeing my mother again."

        The shameless had the grace and audacity to just laugh at his insolence, "Well, maybe if you kill Medusa for me, my boy-"

        "Consider it done," he pried my hands off his arm, my palm stinging and now wrist all scratched up by his nails. Perseus pointed an insolent finger at the king, "But you must never come to see my mother while I was away. As an honorable man, I expect you to keep your word."

        "Of course, my boy!" Polydectes chuckled as he swept his hand around the room, gesturing at each and all of us, his family and members and subjects, "We have witnesses here."

        Danae turned to Perseus, and you realized her eyes were bloodshot, "Perseus, No! You're-"

        "No mother, I had enough. I will slay the monster and rid us of this plague once and for all," Perseus moved to take his sword off my hand, but I didn't let go even as he yanked me forward. "I will slay Medusa and he would never come here again."

        What the fuck is he even saying? I moved to block his exit, but he was faster. He turned, swiveling me around until he stood outside the house. I gaped at him, "Perseus, what are you-"

        "I will be going, Lili. Please look out for my mother," he plucked the sword from my numb fingers, "Please."

        And with that, he strode toward the city center to set off on his journey. Fresh from training, parched and famished, with a sword in hand, ration-less and penniless. 

        I turned to look into the house and stared as Danae wept and wailed. I couldn't hear anything but chatter as my sisters threw any decorum out the window. My Mother consoled Danae with hushed whispers as my Father laughed it all off as he herded Polydectes out of the house. I couldn't understand what any of them were saying. 

        Why are none of them stopping him?