#jugdral week

When Tine had been taken to her first ball at Bellhalla and had first seen the empty throne at the side of the emperor’s, equal in its rigidity and regalness, she had never, ever dreamed that she would sit there. It was always meant for Ishtar, her rightful place much like the late Empress Deirdre’s had been. And Tine was glad for her, even with the monster who would sit as her husband at her side. But reality had something else in mind.

Now she was sitting on that throne, filling up the space that ghosts left behind. But now-

Seliph’s fingers gently covered her hand, and Tine felt his warmth even through the ceremonial gloves.  She turned to find his eyes framed by long lashes and slightly squinted as he smiled apologetically at her. They had been sitting there as dignitaries came to pay respects and make requests of the Holy Emperor and Empress.

Tine had already decided that wherever Seliph was would be her home.

After the merchant from Miletos finished his report on the construction and reopening of port exchanges between their nations, Seliph leaned forward to whisper in her ear.

“I promise this will be over soon. Are your legs falling asleep as well?”

Tine used her free hand to cover her laugh and nodded. She squeezed Seliph’s hand.

“Let’s walk in the east wing garden afterward. I want to show you something.”

The east wing had been part of the Empress’s private chambers, close to the castle chapel and filled with the full flush of flora that central Grannvale had to offer. When Julius was defeated, Seliph and Tine had discovered that the chambers were in ill-kept, and the garden had been left unattended for years. Some of the more delicate flowers had long since died without the necessary care, while others plants had grown unruly. In what free time the two had had since their coronation when not utterly exhausted, they had taken to pruning back and taking out the unsalvageable. It had taken them months, but they had finally made it manageable, and when Tine went to check earlier that morning, her secret project in a few of the plots had succeeded

Seliph continued to hold her hand as they walked arm and arm to the east wing, falling into natural step with each other. Even now it made her feel like her heart floated, light as air at these simple exchanges of affection. When they were about to reach the double-doors that would lead out into the garden, she reached up to cover Seliph’s eyes.

“What-?”

“I want it to be a surprise up to the very last moment.” Tine asserted, still exhilarated that she could make these small demands, but also still fearful. “Is that… alright?”

Seliph reached for her hand, lowering it to show his eyes were closed, then pressing a few kisses to her palm- she had taken off her gloves after their duties- and smiled. “I trust you will lead me admirably.”

Tine’s face flushed, and she took both of Seliph’s hands with one of her own and opened the door, backing up into the garden. Gently, she led him past the small shading tree and the lily pond to a bushel of a dozen or o plants that had more robust stems and leaves than the rest in the garden thus far, but one that had among the most vibrant blossom- dark pink with a happy yellow in the center.

Tine stepped to the side so Seliph would have a full view. “Okay, open your eyes.”

When Seliph did and came in view of the flowers, he frowned and went still. In the brief seconds that realization rose across Seliph’s face, he quickly kneeled down and brushed his fingers along the petals. “These are… I recognize these flowers.”

“I asked Ulster to send some tubers. I wanted to bring a little bit of your home to our new one.” Tine explained. “They’re native to northern Isaach, aren’t they? I don’t know much about their meaning, but I hoped that-”

Seliph looked up at her, his eyes shiny and lips parted. It was strange to find her love at a loss for words, but then he stood up and pulled her into a tight embrace.

“Thank you… thank you.”  

In the millennia she and her brother ascended from the underground kingdom where they were born to mingle with mortal company, Lachesis had noticed an interesting point of interest in her brother’s feeding habits.

The fallen aristocrat trying to make a living through her painting, the widower penning a masterpiece by night and does hard labor to feed his family during the day, the playwright whose performances would draw many in the present day, but sent him to the gallows before Eldigan took his last sips off his soul.

Lachesis swung her legs in a rather unladylike way to hook over the arm of the couch as she watched Eldigan work out the knots in his tie in front of the hallway mirror. They were in an apartment that one of Lachesis’s more recent artists had given to her paid off. It was in an upper-crust neighborhood that was rife with bored heirs or overworked business moguls and their neglected spouses. An excellent place for both of them to go fishing for slight snacks in between lovers.

Eldigan knew she was watching him, but his handsome face remained focused on his own reflection as he finished. “I’m out of habit with these. At least the new styles aren’t as cumbersome as the previous fashions…”

He was preparing to go get drinks with a friend. Eldigan insisted on the friend part, but with how particular her brother was getting on his appearance, Lachesis expected him to move out any day now. Their kind was never meant to make friends among humans.

“You know what conclusion I’ve come to, Eldigan?” Lachesis reached for one of the throw pillows to squeeze between her well-manicured fingers.

Eldigan had finished with his tie and turned his head towards her, showing Lachesis that she had his attention. He was dressed in a dark suit with accents of maroon in his tie and a crisp white shirt. That shade of red brought out the currant color in his eyes. She knew this because it had the same effect on her.

“You’re attracted to the bright stars that are already doomed to burn out.”

Eldigan blinked a few times at his little sister pointed out his preferences “Is that an insult?”

Lachesis rolled her eyes. “I mean don’t you ever feel like you’re in a rut? All that hope and tragedy rolled into one sounds so… dull after a while.”

“I suppose it’s a difference of taste.” Eldigan joked. “You don’t seem to have a type.”

“No human could ever compare to you, brother dear.” Lachesis threw back in a similar joking fashion, but after he tousled her hair on his way out the door, she was left to ponder the words. It was true, she was not particularly choosy about what lovers she took.

That mercenary with an unexpected talent for song that she picked up soon after leaving the barrows. The young soldier still mourning his lost liege lord that found some solace in her arms and guiding his movements as he wrote an epic account of a continent-wide war, the woman that made blades dance with her body’s actions in a way unknown to Lachesis’s lands. They all had something that attracted her to them, but she wasn’t sure what it was.

That thought kept buzzing around her head so much that even the lavish apartment was too small to contain it, so she slipped into one of her various cocktail dresses and went out to see if an answer would come.

(~)

After two hours of walking the streets pondering like the starving artists she usually fed off of, Lachesis had not come to a definite answer. She wondered why Eldigan’s comment bothered her so much. It was infuriating, but she couldn’t say why. What did it matter what souls she consumed? It wasn’t as if she fed indiscriminately, and she gave them what they craved the most in return: fame, inspiration, recognition.

She needed a wine break, but the closest establishment was obviously meant for university students, though the clientele was low for the evening. Well, Lachesis could pass for one of them in looks, if not in style. She sat at the bar and ordered the house red before scanning the room out of habit. A small group in the corner eating some fried snacks and beer, a professor with a glass grading papers-

When Lachesis’s eyes settled on the only other patron at the bar, she did a quick double-take. Wide-eyed with a heart-shaped face and red hair trimmed in a boyish cut. Lachesis wondered if the bartender had forgotten in the lax evening to check for ID. The bags under his eyes were the only assurance that maybe he wasn’t as young as he looked.

When her wine came, Lachesis took a sip to find it didn’t taste as bad as she expected, and she moved closer, so only one stool remained between her and the boy. He was, surprisingly, also drinking wine.

Lachesis sipped her wine, not making any comment until she felt the boy’s draw towards her, as most eyes did.

“You know, there’s more room at the counter.” He replied, voice slightly rough. That wine in his glass probably wasn’t his first of the night.

“I decided I wanted to try for some conversation,” Lachesis replied. She decided to try something different from her usual tactics. If she overwhelmed him too soon, he would probably turn-tail and run. “A penny for your thoughts?”

That got a small smile out of him.“I didn’t think anyone used that phrase anymore.”

Lachesis’s perfectly painted lips pulled into a frown, before tossing her hair and asking the bartender for another round for two. “Then how about a drink?”

His name was Azelle and was, in fact, a Teacher’s Assistant rather than a student. And like what drew most people to drink, it was sorrow over love. A sweet and pretty medical student had turned him down.

“She thinks I’m just some- some kid,” Azelle’s impassioned response was cut by a hiccup. “When I’m not, nobody assumes that I’ve struggled. And I thought taking this career would show that I was serious about making a difference, about being seen for myself.”

“What is it that you teach?”

“…Introductory English.” Azelle mumbled. Ah, the rejection was only the shallow end.

Lachesis snorted, but hid most of it behind her hand. “You never know, maybe you inspire your students more than you expect.”

“Yeah, maybe…” Azelle took a deep sip from his glass, and Lachesis watched a tad spill out and down his chin with unusual interest. On a regular night, this would be the time she offered to give poor dejected fools like Azelle a choice for something more, or if they were pretty enough (like he was), she would tell him to take her back to his place. She would play the “muse” and act how they wanted. Like that medical student that he was so lovesick for.

But now she actually listened to him, she felt… different this time. Was this pity? It didn’t feel like how all those works of art described it, so probably not.

Lachesis put payment for all their drinks on the counter, then got to her to her feet and ushered Azelle to follow. He looked confused, but then obeyed. They were roughly the same height since Lachesis chose lower heels for walking.

“Where are we going?” Azelle asked.

“A walk, late dinner, maybe some dancing with music that lasts longer than a season,” Lachesis replied bluntly. Far more blunt than how she usually acted with potential lovers. “A way for you to get over your slump, and me to ease my mind.”

“Stop, or face the full- full…”

“Force?”

Miranda’s eyes brightened and nodded, raising the stick in her hand. “-Force of the Empire!”

“Never!” Leif called back. “I will fight until the last man!”

“-And woman!” Miranda corrected him.

“Right, and woman too!” Leif brandished his sword-stick, and they began to fight to the “death,” that is until they tucked the other’s sticks under the other’s arm and then both staggered dramatically to the ground, saying their respective final words. They laid on the grass for about a minute, before getting bored.

Leif was the first to sit up and shook Miranda’s shoulder. “Do you want to be the Leonster knight now?”

Miranda shook her head. “I want to be an Alster knight. Let’s use the bench as a fortress and play siege the castle, okay?”

“Okay!” Leif smiled, helping Miranda up in her long skirts, before running over to the other side of the garden. Neither child knew others were watching their play.

From the other side of the courtyard, Duke Dorias of Leonster and Queen Ethnia of Alster watched their play.

“It seems the values of Leonster have already been instilled in Prince Leif,” Dorias said with a hint of pride in his voice. “It does my heart good to know that our future is in such devoted hands.”

Ethnia watched the little war games with a slight lurch in her stomach, and the man’s words made it worse. “They’re children, Duke. They know nothing of the horrors of war. Prince Leif is four.”

“I began to learn the basics of knighthood at age five.” Dorias countered. “Perhaps the old kingdom of Grannvale was too soft on their youth. It’s what allowed Emperor Arvis to rise to power.”

Ethnia’s eyes narrowed at the slight towards her old homeland, her gloved hand balling into a fist. “And what of Leonster’s way? To die in anonymity in a land that’s not your own?”

“We will get our homeland back,” Dorias replied. “We will not impose on you much further, your majesty.”