The world smelled of smoke and blood... the echoes of war reverberating off in the distance as the morning sun rose high above the eastern mountains. Between the burning flames and desecrated buildings stood two silhouettes, solemn figures that seemed out of place in the terrifying landscape that embraced them. A Prince and a Princess, their fates forever intertwined in a macabre and unforgiving dream stood alone as the death slowly approached their doorstep. They had come so close to breaking free from the Goddess' cruel cycle, to finally reach the 'happily-ever-after' that every couple so desperately longed for. For the pair had lived and died with one another many times before, their spirits cursed to forever find love in each other's arms before being separated once again.
"I guess this is it, huh?" A faint smile creased the Prince's lips, his handsome portrait shifted down towards his lover. Tears welled within sapphire gemstones, his eyes gazing upon the Princess one, final time. "We got pretty close this time, didn't we?"
"Yeah... we almost did it..." A single teardrop cascaded down the outline of the Princess' face, crimson kaleidoscopes staring up at the man that she had fallen so madly in love with. "I..." her voiced hitched as she wrapped her hands behind the back of the Prince's head. "...I have no regrets."
"Do you think I'll ever find you again?"
"Who says I won't find you first?"
The Prince stifled a grin, his lips reaching downwards to pluck a final kiss from the Princess.
"I love you, Celestina."
"I love you too, Oliver.
A sharp gasp pierced the silent bedroom as a figure shuffled immediately upwards. Across the Prince's cheeks, beads of sweat dribbled across his face and towards his chin, a frantic boy scanning his immediate surroundings. Azure gemstones dashed vividly across his bedroom, the soft embrace of the evening moon's light illuminating his blurry visage. Oliver had been plagued with many memories, trauma from horrors that reemerged in his mind... festering his every thought like a parasite slowly eating him away. The nightmares found him in every dream, but strangely enough, it was not the horrifying dreams of battle that hurt him the most, but memories from a distant reality... dreams that felt like they belonged to a different man entirely.
"Another nightmare?" A man stood in the open doorway, carrying a lit candle and watching as confused eyes glanced in his direction. "What was this one about?"
The Prince sighed, his grip finally loosening upon his bed sheets. "I'm... I'm fine," he retorted, uneasy about showing any weakness in front of his subordinates. If word got out that the Accursed Prince was struggling with nightmares, it wouldn't be long until unwanted rumors would start to circulate about him. No, he had to try his best to put on the greatest facade that he could possibly muster. There was far too much at stake. "I take it there's a reason why you're here other than to check on my health." Oliver shot the knight a glare.
"The Princess has arrived. Your father demands your presence in the ballroom." He explained, placing the illuminated candle atop a nearby desk. Indeed, the only thing more horrifying than the Prince's recurring nightmares would be the thought of marriage, most especially to the Princess of Laguna. While the Prince bore the rival Empire no ill-will, he knew that his leadership had been responsible for countless deaths among the Lagunians.
"Well, you can tell the Emperor that he'll have his freak show." Oliver removed himself from his bed, navigating over towards his dresser to make himself presentable. "Give me a few moments and I'll be down." He waited for the knight to depart before slinging his arms and head out of his night shirt and tossing the garment to the side.Standing in front of his mirror, the Prince could see the dozens of scars that lined his torso and back. Most of them were trophies that he had earned from countless years of bloodshed, others were given to him by his father years ago. Sadly, the Prince had forgotten long ago where and how he had earned each of them.
It took the Prince several minutes to clean up his disheveled appearance, first brushing his hair so that it appeared well-kempt and befitting of a Prince. If the Lagunian Princess was to hate him, then the Prince hoped that it was not for vanity's sake. As soon as his hair was taken care of, the Prince dressed himself in his military uniform, a white coat that matched well with his silvery hair and sported golden epaulets upon the shoulders. Once he was fully dressed, he took one last opportunity to inspect himself in the mirror before turning towards his open doorway and heading towards the ballroom.
The reception was livelier than expected, hundreds of nobles from once warring kingdoms intermingling with one another to the melodic tune of live violins. A grand chandelier hung from the high ceiling, illuminating the grand ballroom below. With a heavy breath, the Prince descended down the stairs and between the crowds of nobles beneath. As he entered the room, he could feel the mood in the room change dramatically, the wandering eyes of gossiping nobles each pointing towards Oliver as he entered.
"Oh my! They're indeed red, as red as rubies. I've never seen the likes of it before."They're creepy.
"Right! Your Highness has very... unique eyes. In fact, I've heard that no one else among Her Highness's royal family has eyes like yours. You're so special!"Are you truly of royal blood?
"It's wonderful that our dear Prince will be wed to such a beautiful bride. You two are going to be quite the couple!"He's cursed. She's abnormal. They suit each other.
Nobles were always the same. While pretty pleasantries seemed to spill from their frivolous lips, Celestina knew better than to trust in the authenticity of their words.
No matter where she went, the Crown Princess of Laguna was always treated the same – like an alien object, a curious attraction for the masses to behold. She was never insulted directly as she was still of royal descent, an existence everyone with a lesser title had to look up to; but she was also denied the full, necessary amount of respect which was only proper for someone of her status. For one, it was known far and wide that Celestina was never meant to inherit the Lagunan throne. Word had gotten out that she'd recently lost favor with her father, too. More importantly however, she was a stranger here. She was a foreigner who was very much unwelcomed and someone who used to be an enemy only a short few months earlier.
And yet, she seemed surprisingly unbothered by it all as she sipped on a glass of wine, especially by the three Countesses who were standing around her like a bunch of gossip-hungry harpies.
"Countess Zarr, Countess Harold, Countess Sperado," there was something razor sharp about the way she uttered their names, emphasized by the calm and cold way they left her lips, like every letter was smooth yet wrapped around an edge. The mood around them changed instantly. The three women gasped in evident shock, for they hadn't expected the odd Princess to know of their names. A smug smirk threatened to show on Celestina's shapely mouth upon witnessing this, though she was able to restrain it in time. "I heard that you've travelled all the way here from the North. It must have been tough," she jutted out her lower lip and frowned then, "I heard that the war has caused you the most troubles among all of the noble families. Oh! And not to forget – the Barbarians. Now that your forces are at their weakest and that you are dependent on the Capital's resources, you must be struggling sooo much." In the end, all formal requests for aid and documents of similar importance required the Crown Prince's approval. It was also the Crown Prince, who overlooked and commanded most of the Empire's military forces. It took a fool to not be aware of this. "I hope you'll stay strong during these harsh times and that nothing... unfortunate will cause you to lose the assistance that you need." Silence followed her words and the atmosphere became tense.
Then she smiled; a slow, wry upward slant of her rosy lips.
"... Your Highness?"
"If you'll excuse me, there are other nobles that I wish to greet. I wish you all well."
As she walked away and distanced herself from them, nobody would have suspected then, that she'd just threatened to have entire families starve and die by the hands of uncivilized wildlings. To hell with all these people, truly. Social gatherings like these were tiring and lame. People praised you with the sweetest of compliments, only to heap criticism behind your back. None of them seemed to be quick at repartee, either.
Celestina let loose of an exhausted sigh as she allowed herself to relax on the spacious terrace outside the ballroom. The cool breeze of the night touched and calmed her. Her eyes narrowed though as soon as she studied the flags of Aurelia which covered almost every corner of this palace. They made her feel even more out of place, as she was wearing and showing off the colors of her own empire – shades of gold, red and black.
After a while, she barely took note of how the noise level inside the ballroom increased when the arrival of the Crown Prince was announced. As if on cue, Lucia, her personal confidant and butler, appeared by her side. She was very much a female with short brown hair and intelligent amber eyes. She cleared her throat. "Your Highness, it seems that Prince Oliver has arrived." Then, after making sure that nobody would hear their next exchange: "What do you think you're doing out here? You should head back inside!"
Celestina merely glanced at the other before she rolled her eyes dramatically, returning to rest her chin inside the palm of her hand. "So? He hadn't bothered to welcome me either, earlier. Instead, he has the nerve to show up now. It's not like I want to be here, Lucia." As a matter of fact, she'd even went on a silent riot a few weeks prior, after Latazar had proclaimed her engagement to the world without informing her of it first. This was the moment when Cel realized that he truly deemed her useless and that he didn't believe her capable of guiding their empire on her own. So he sold her, and their empire, off. Like a coward. In order to will her docile and make her comply with his wishes, the Emperor had ordered for her food supply to get cut off first. All her treasures and money were taken from her as well. Lastly, the security around her had been increased significantly, making a swift escape for her impossible. Death was not an option either, as she had made a promise to someone very special and dear to her.
"I'm only here to marry him, not to cozy up to him. That's all."
A somber expression spread on Lucia's face as she observed Celestina, though it disappeared just as soon as it had appeared. "I–," she opened and closed her mouth, unsure of what to say, until eventually, she straightened her back and replied, "I understand."
Dealing with the noble Lords and Ladies of the Empire was exhausting. It wasn't long until they had each come to deliver their good wishes and congratulations for the Prince's betrothal, as if either of them had actually agreed to such an arrangement. The Prince could barely find a moment to breathe as the cesspool of nobles pretended to humbly introduce themselves before him. Though he remained cordial in kind, the facades did not fool the Accursed Prince, for he knew well that each one spread venom rather eagerly when he wasn't listening. It was these very nobles that blamed him for all of the Empire's misfortunes... and the Prince was sure that the many vultures would rejoice if they were informed their Prince had passed.
He needed to get away... and fast.
"Apologies, Lord Helmont, I must excuse myself for the time being. You should present this matter to my command staff if you need additional compensation for your soldiers." The Crown Prince knew that such policies were his responsibility, but ever since the war between Laguna and Aurelia had finally come to a halt, the Prince found himself avoiding his military responsibilities entirely. He had suffered enough... seen enough blood to last him for a lifetime. He hated war nearly as much as his parents hated him... and if he could live a life where he would never have to wield a sword again, even an unhappy marriage was a small price to pay for that.
There was no glory to be found on the battlefield, only the lamentations of the dead.
Once free from the clutches of nobility, Prince Oliver moved across the ballroom, retreating from the common area and towards his favorite spot, a secluded terrace that overhang the palace. Even without the majestic view of the bustling city below and the veil of flickering stars that dotted the night sky, Oliver loved this spot simply because it was far enough away from prying eyes, far away from the responsibilities of nobility. Here, in his little cage, he was free.
As he stepped out onto the terrace, he noticed that he wasn't quite alone. A lone silhouette stood in the darkness, paying him seemingly no mind as she looked over at the horizon. She bore Lagunan colors, crimson accentuated by outlines of gold and black, her golden locks cascading gracefully down her shoulders. The Prince was certainly mesmerized by her gentle features, but what was even more interesting to him were the pair of scarlet gemstones which glowed vibrantly under the full moon's light. Oliver knew little about Lagunan nobility, so he had never quite heard the stories about the Princess that had been born with crimson eyes. But with just a single glance, he could tell that she had lived the life of a black sheep, an outcast cursed at birth just like he had been.
"It's much nicer out here, isn't it?" He kept a comfortable distance, turning his gaze down towards the night city below. "Sometimes I'll come here just to forget everything." The Prince leaned forward against the railing, azure kaleidoscopes moving back towards the woman beside him. He stood a fair amount taller than the woman, his slender figure appearing a direct contrast to his true strength. Like any nobleman he kept himself neatly groomed, though underneath his uniform his flesh had been marred by a collection of grotesque scars.
"Hope you don't mind some company. You look just as lost as I am."
The two women were chattering peacefully amongst themselves, until eventually, Lucia's eyes widened upon spotting a certain someone approaching the terrace behind Celestina's shoulders. As the Princess's aide, one of her main duties was to memorize the names and faces of all those who were important. Although none of them had ever seen Prince Oliver in person, it wasn't difficult to identify him at all: He was said to be tall, handsome and to have mesmerizing silvery hair.
"You have company," she whispered, alarming the Princess beforehand. Then Lucia promptly excused herself and quietly went back inside.
Although Celestina felt slightly bewildered by her sudden exit, she calmly turned her head towards where her butler had indicated. She shifted her gaze – and immediately found his, her breath catching at the startling hue of his jeweled eyes.
It was him.
As this realization hit her, her hands, which had rested on top of the stony railing, clenched into fists.
Throughout the last few weeks, she'd wondered over and over again about how their first encounter would unfold and play out. According to what she was told, Oliver was praised as the one who had shifted the tides of the war to his empire's favor. He was intelligent, hardened by battle and supposedly quite ruthless. Rumors upon rumors circulated about him among both societies, yet as she was studying his profile, she also realized that none of them had been able to prepare her for what she was seeing now – vulnerability. She was surprised by the intensity of his expression and the things he said to her.
It was unfair.
"It seems that you have very poor habits, Your Highness. That is – forgetting and disregarding important matters. I agree," she told him impertinently. His last statement caused her to straighten her back more and to stand a bit taller in front of him. She refused to look lost, pitiful or tragic. Although she used to be all those things while enduring the Empress's whims in the past, her brother's death seemed to have given her a new-found strength. Instead of losing her mind and having it break her, she felt as though Claude was with her in spirit instead. As much as this engagement was something Celestina hadn't expected and wanted, at first, it also gave her the opportunity to escape her miserable life thus far. She was merely choosing the lesser of two evils. Besides, if she wasn't able to change her destiny, then she was determined enough to change herself. From now on, she wanted to live her life without regrets. No more holding back for the sake of others; no more hesitation. Consequently, she didn't care for Oliver's affections, even if the benefits of having them were undeniable. Hence, her words had been blunt and bold, portraying quite the contrast to her gentle appearance.
Finally, she stabbed him with a glance of Amazonian fierceness. It annoyed her that she had to tilt back her head in order to do so. Just what had they fed him for him to grow so tall?
"You don't know who I am," she concluded, which was disappointing, though she wasn't surprised by it either. She folded her arms in front of her chest, which was covered by an intricately woven corset piece.
"And here one would think they'd recognize their own fiancée once they see them."
The Princess' words fell upon the Prince's ears like venom, the sudden hostility peppering the Prince mercilessly. She acted as if the Crown Prince had any choice in this marital arrangement, those crimson eyes gracing him with a damning, yet mysteriously alluring glare. For some, inexplicable reason, Oliver felt that he had seen those enchanting eyes somewhere before, the scarlet kaleidoscopes holding his own gaze hostage under the vivid moon's light.
"And here one would think they'd recognize their own fiancée once they see them."
Oliver brought his hand upwards, pausing for a moment to gently push his infamous, silver strands from his face. "Ah, my apologies, I suppose I didn't recognize your impudence in the darkness." He retorted, his seething words betrayed by the soft incantation of his voice and the gentle smirk that creased each end of his lips. Like every noble had rehearsed many times before, the Prince delivered a perfectly executed bow with one hand in front of his chest and the other arm behind the crook of his back. "It's an honor to meet you, your irritable-ness." He replied in kind, his docile smugness on full display for his fiancée. "They've said so many things about your beauty, but I guess that's probably because they found your personality lacking." Indeed, she was beautiful, but that was the limit to her allure - just a pretty little diamond to look at.
The Prince's handsome smile radiated under the moon's gaze, the boy watching intently if frustration would mount in his betrothed's portrait. "If you would excuse me, I'm going to find company that is not on the rags." He remarked, implying menstruation the cause of her debauched attitude towards him. He delivered another, smug bow for the Princess before wheeling about, retreating towards the entrance from which he came. Yet before the Prince could disappear around the corner, a smaller boy stepped onto the terrace, blocking his exit.
"Olive! There you are, Olive!" The young boy exclaimed, a bright and innocent smile plastered across his face. "Papa's been looking for you! He says you're supposed to dance with the Princess tonight! Everyone is waiting~"
"Ah, if it isn't my favorite, little hero." Oliver chuckled, kneeling down to meet the height of his baby brother. The little, Prince Tristan was no older than five, with a blonde head of hair and the same, blue eyes found of his older brother. He wore a child-sized version of Oliver's uniform, with an overturned, metal bowl on his head that he had most likely commandeered from the kitchen. Indeed, Prince Tristan idolized his older brother, going so far as to find ways to copy his style of dress. "I don't think I'll be dancing tonight, Trist."
"Dad said that you'll both get in trouble if you don't." The little Prince pouted, "Why don't you want to dance with the Princess, Olive? I saw her earlier and she's so pretty."
"It's not that I don't want to...." Oliver lied, of course he didn't want to. Even if he did, how would he convince her to dance with him after such an irritable meeting? "... it's that I don't think she wants to."
Without consulting his older brother, the little Prince ran past him, balancing the metal bowl on his head before stopping in front of the Princess. "My brother wants do dance with you, everybody is waiting for you two and-" He was suddenly cut off by his older brother, who swooped him up off the ground.
"Alright, let's go before you catch a cold." The Prince carried Tristan towards the terrace entrance, passing through the entryway that led back into the ballroom. Upon entering the room, Oliver immediately noticed the watchful eyes of a thousand nobles staring in his direction, as if waiting for the centerpieces of the show like eager hawks stalking their prey.
"You...? You! How rude can someone–?!" Celestina looked extremely flustered as she pointed an accusing finger at his retreating back. She was flushed with anger and it showed; her cheeks had taken on a red hue, and her face had twisted into an expression of irritation.
Instead of receiving the apology that she'd hoped for, she received sass. No one had ever spoken to her in such a crude manner before. Atlana, the Lagunan Empress, was another matter altogether, for her ways had always been just downright cruel. She's never displayed her hatred for Celestina blatantly, but through clever and viscious schemes.
As for this incident–?
Prince Oliver was clearly in the wrong. Obviously, he hadn't bothered to learn more about her prior to her arrival. Politics didn't seem to interest him, but most importantly however, he didn't deem her worthy of his respect at all.
"A child!" She fumed, throwing her gloved hands into the air and above her golden head as she turned to look down at the city below once more, "My husband-to-be is a child!" Ironically enough, Oliver was younger than her, too.
She considered stomping after him, but refrained from doing so. Calm down, she told herself and took a deep breath.
It wasn't like her to get easily angry at all. In fact, it was actually quite difficult to get under her skin. In her own empire, Celestina was known for being a composed and eloquent lady. Proud, and supportive, especially of and towards her brother. Granted, all of these qualities had faded over the course of the war, leaving her cold and grim, albeit calm regardless. She thought that it was her duty to nurture the vision and future that Claude had worked and fought so hard for. He'd dreamt of ruling, of guiding their people to prosperity and peace and a greatness they had never seen before; of a life larger than himself, larger than the galaxy. A legacy to fulfill him, a legacy to outlast the stars.
And then it had shattered to pieces, and Claude fell to the ground deeply wounded and, above all, lost. The sun fell from the sky, the horizon blurred, and the new day promised only endless and empty aching.
Celestina had sworn to herself that she would never allow for his ideals and wishes to be forgotten, which included her carrying the responsibility of not acting on petty whims. To keep up appearances.
After she'd reminded herself of this, of her duty, the Princess had half a mind to forget that this exchange had ever happened–until she was approached by the youngest Prince of Aurelia. A baby, really. His entrance eased the tension in the atmosphere and peace returned to the terrace once more, though Celestina couldn't stop her heart from beating a little faster.
Dance? Now?
The faces of both her father and Atlana popped up inside her mind.
Although Latazar had stopped to treat her kindly after the scandalous incident a few weeks earlier, she still found herself not wanting to disappoint him; the version of him which had treated her kindly and gently. That, and she refused to fail or make herself a laughstock in front of her archnemesis.
Cel swallowed her pride and slowly walked towards where Oliver and his brother stood. She exuded elegance and grace, even as she bowed down to Tristan and whispered in his ear, "Thanks for letting us know, Your Highness. You were a great help." She patted at his metal bowl with a genuine smile and Tristan shyly gave her one in return. The boy wriggled out of Oliver's arms and disappeared behind a row of curious nobles. The air around them was alive with chatter and laughter, buzzing with excitement and the sheer intensity of that moment. Groups formed and dissolved within the blink of an eye, feeding into a many-colored, many-keyed commotion. She wondered then; what would happen now, in the dim incalculable hours? Anything and everything was possible throughout the duration of events like this one.
She carefully regarded Oliver and cleared her throat.
"You better offer me that arm of yours within the next few seconds," she said under her breath so only he would be able to hear her, "unless you insist on ruining this night even more."
After a beat, she turned her head so that he would be able to observe how her smile shifted into a smug one. "Or is it that you can'tdance? Maybe that is why you rarely show up to events like these. Your people love to talk. I'd completely understand it, given the circumstances." She nodded sorrily. "But don't worry. I could totally help you out by leading this dance. Would that make it better?"
Azure gemstones narrowed as the Princess' retort fell upon his ears, threatening him to offer up his arm in a dance. "You're a bold one." Oliver hissed, his mind holding back an additional barrage of carefully worded artillery. Despite desperately wanting to, he decided that it was probably best not to antagonize the Princess any further, lest the banquet devolve into a storm of blades and blood. With a heavy sigh, the Prince shut his eyes for a moment, composing himself to deal with his woefully crude betrothed before lowering himself before the maiden. "Would you please honor me with this dance, my dear Princess?" He reached out with his hand, the nobles from both empires watching the historic moment with silent awe. After all, this was not merely two people dancing, but rather the union of two kingdoms... the end to a bloody war that has gone on for too long.
He had almost expected the Princess to reject his offer, until he felt her slender fingers dip between his own. Oliver ignored Celestina's smug remarks, instead he planned to allow the Princess to lead their dance as she had wanted to. There was an applause among the nobles as the betrothed heirs took to the center of the dance floor, the congregations of people parting ways to make room for the 'picture-perfect' couple. It wasn't long until the soft melody of the violin had marked the beginning of the waltz, the Prince following Celestina's lead as they slowly began to move. Oliver was no stranger to dancing, but he was sure that Celestina would notice that his movements were rusty to say the least. He had been at war for almost as long as he could remember, for he had made his home on the battlefield, not the ballroom.
Oliver said nothing as the pair circled the dance floor, all of the nobles moving in rhythm with the music. Instead, his blue gaze merely stared down into the pools of crimson that stared back at him, studying her portrait carefully. He would have been lying if he did not find the Princess quite beautiful, her mesmerizing glare enough to still the beat of his heart. Perhaps if they had been born underneath different stars, they could have found love with one another... with no war, no family ties to tear them apart...
Perhaps...
Oliver's eyes never pulled away... cold, sapphire gemstones ever focused upon the Princess. It was a strange feeling to dance in the embrace of someone you loathed, yet still there lingered some hope. Some hope that the Princess would one day forgive him for his sins, reach up and pull him into a passionate kiss. Some hope that he would one day find love and happiness in this cruel and despicable marital arrangement. The Prince had been lost in thought as the pair circled about, until he noticed a feeling which alerted his supernatural sense of danger. From the corner of his eye he noticed the glimmer of something that did not belong... something that...
"Get down!" In the middle of their dance, Oliver grabbed the Princess, whirling around to switch positions with her before casting her unceremoniously towards the floor. Before anybody else could realize what had just happened, a single arrow passed through the air with a silent thump, the projectile flying where the Princess had just been before catching the Prince in the shoulder.
He remembered this well... the pain, the smell of blood, the fear of death. Oliver gripped his shoulder as the nobles began to screech in a panicked frenzy, each one running in different directions as guards began to prowl the area for the assassin. But as the nobles attempted to make sense of the situation, more arrows began to fill the banquet hall, the dying screams of men and women filling the air as the once peaceful hall devolved into chaos and death. As the nobles trampled over one another in an attempt to flee, Oliver immediately turned towards the Princess. "We need to get out of here." Oliver reached out with his hand, acting as if he had not noticed the arrow lodged grotesquely into his shoulder. "There's no time."
As the music began to play and they slowly eased into its rhythm, Cel felt oddly bewitched. Despite the pressure of having the attention of surely everyone inside the spacious ballroom, she felt at ease, instead of repulsed, as soon as Oliver drew her close to his body. In fact, his touch felt quite familiar and comforting to her. It was absolutely strange and didn't make any sense, considering their tense exchanges so far. Did she drink too much of that delicious berry wine earlier? The Princess was at a loss for words, and it seemed that none of the two dared to say something. Silence fell over them again as their gazes locked and refused to wander anywhere else. The air around them was warming too, and she felt it, that soft spark of electricity that moved around bodies this close. It made her skin tingle and her heart thump in a funny way.
He must be popular among the noble ladies, she mused as she studied his chiseled features up close. Free of the shadows that the moon had cast upon his face, she was able to look at it unabashedly. He radiated strength and life, yet at the same time he didn't; he had the face of a young man but the gloomy eyes of a soldier who'd faced death. Celestina began to ponder. What had he seen out there, what had he done, that he was capable of such an expression? Although he didn’t hide his hostility towards her, he‘d never, not even once, raised his voice against her. That side of him revealed more about his personality to her than actual words could. It allowed her a glimpse into their to-be married life, on how he‘d conduct himself at least in the eyes of the public. Truth be told, she‘d been testing his patience in a way too, both for her self and in order to satiate her own intrigue. She'd wanted to confirm whether the most aggravating rumors about him were true.
As they danced together, Cel came to the conclusion that, no — they weren’t true. At least not all of them. For one, Prince Oliver didn’t seem like a ruthless monster to her; especially not after she’d been able to witness his earlier exchange with Tristan. That, and there was something about him that attracted her, beyond superficial reasons.
"I—"
"Get down!"
The moment she attempted to say something, she was able to witness how Oliver's countenance slipped into a scowl, then into shock, then absolute horror.
Within the blink of an eye, Celestina found herself sprawled on the floor. Bodies left and right crumbled to the floor as well, though had stopped to move. They were dead. From the corners of her eyes, she was able to witness how an arrow had pierced her father's skin as well. He was bleeding, yet still alive, while Atlana stood right next to him, screaming and crying for help. Guards flooded inside the room and rushed to the royals' aid, though too late; chaos had spread all over the place. Her own body began to feel numb from fear and trepidation. Wherever she looked, she saw red. Red, red, red. What was happening? Why was it happening?
"We need to get out of here."
When the injured Prince offered her his hand, her body moved on its own, spurred on by pure instinct. She took it without hesitation, for he'd just saved her life after all.
He pulled her up with a strength that was admirable, even now, and together the two rushed towards a path which was hidden behind one of the grand, red drapes that lined the walls. She didn't question how he knew of it, in fact Celestina wasn't capable of thinking at all then, merely following his lead. She took note of how the path became smaller and darker, the walls around them shifting from marble to grey stone. The cries and shouting from the ballroom sounded more muffled and muted as they went, their pace never relenting or getting slower. Eventually, they had to crawl, which must have been difficult on the Prince, because the lack of space caused for the tip of the arrow to dig even more into his wounded shoulder.
By the time they made it outside, whatever was happening inside the palace at that point, no one would know. They stood in the middle of a forest.
As she fought for balance, Celestina stepped on the hem of her dress and stumbled against a tree with her back. Mortified, she looked down at her gloved hands. They were dirty and torn, as was her once sparkly dress. Her hair was a mess and she panted and gasped for air, her body not used to such sudden and exhausting activity. When she realized however, that what she'd assumed to be dirt at first, was actually blood, it was as though something within her snapped.
"No!" A whirlwind of emotions stirred alive inside her and she ripped the gloves off and tossed them on the ground, revealing a mysterious mark on the back of her right hand. It was shaped like a crescent moon. Tears threatened to spill over her cheeks and stung her eyes. She covered her face with her bare hands, until she remembered that she wasn't alone.
Her gaze shifted to Oliver as he stood hunched against a tree trunk himself. "Are you...," she began, her voice shaky, "You got injured in my stead. Is your wound deep? Are you alright?" Considering that she wasn't hurt except for a few scratches here and there, the blood on her clothes must have been his.
Everything happened so quickly. As the welcoming ceremony fell into a chaotic bloodbath, Oliver could feel his battlefield, survival instincts kicking in. He had to escape, or else he would die here. But what was interesting to him was not his latent survival instinct, no. What truly surprised him was his need to protect Celestina, even if it meant placing his own life in danger. But why would he care about the Princess? She had shown that she cared little for him, after all.
Fleeing from the banquet hall, he whisked Celestina away to a passageway he knew of as a child. While it was once quite a spacious way of escaping the responsibilities of his childhood, he quickly found that it was much tighter than he had remembered, even forcing the arrow to pierce deeper into his shoulder to finally escape. But within only a few minutes, the Prince and the Princess were safely hidden away in the nearby forest, away from the assassins that had threatened to take their life away.
Oliver found a nearby tree trunk to sit himself down, almost forgetting about the Princess for a moment as he took a quick glance at the wound that had overtaken his shoulder. Pulling out a knife from his boot, he had just begun to cut his blood-stained shirt open when Celestina suddenly screamed out, causing the Prince to glance up with a concerned look stretched upon his face. He was prepared to ask the Princess what was wrong, only to pause when she managed to speak first. "I'm... not sure yet." Oliver used the knife to cut his shirt off, removing the fabric to reveal his chest underneath. Beneath the shirt the Prince was surprisingly chiseled, though his torso was marred by a collection of scars that ran in different directions as if they were tribal tattoos.
"It's pretty deep, but I guess there's no avoiding it..." Oliver grabbed the shaft of the arrow, pulling it out with a single pull. As the arrow left his shoulder, a pained growl escaped from between his lips, blood flowing freely from the open wound. But more alarming than his own blood was the sight of a familiar arrowhead, one that contained a deadly poison in its very tip. He discarded the arrow to the side, before cutting apart his shirt. "I need your help." He motioned for the Princess to come closer, "I can only move my right arm. I need you to help me tie my shirt around my wound." He explained, draping the fabric over his shoulder. "Make it as tight as you can, or else it won't stop the bleeding."
He waited for Celestina to do as she was instructed, but almost as soon as she began tying the knot around his shoulder, he noticed a faint glow emanated from the Princess' hand. "Is that?" The Prince looked down at his own right hand as Celestina assisted him, noticing that his mark was glowing through his glove. Hovering his hand towards his face, he bit down on his glove to pull it free from his hand. Indeed, his crescent moon birthmark was glowing a vibrant, azure hue.
Once his makeshift bandage was finished, Oliver grabbed Celestina by the wrist, staring down at her hand with deliberate interest. Just like him, he immediately saw the same symbol upon the back of Celestina's right hand. While their hands touched one another, the symbol glowed its brightest, rivaling the moonlight in intensity. "How...how long have you had that?" He muttered, his eyes looking up towards the Princess. Oliver had the symbol for his entire life... a curse that has haunted him for his entire life. But he had never imagined he would see it upon another person. He placed his palm against Celestina's, intertwining his fingers around hers so that she could see that he had the same mark upon his hand.
"What does it-" before Oliver could finish his sentence, a searing pain cause him to release Celestina's hand, bringing his working hand to his wounded shoulder. The Prince released another painful cry as he gritted his teeth, the pain striking the entire length of his arm. "That arrow was poisoned." He explained, biting his lip to help take his mind off of the pain. "I'll be dead before the sun rises."
Her hands were shaking as she assisted him. She didn't know what to do at first and her movements were clumsy as she'd never tended to a wound before. And, regardless of her distrust towards him, Celestina didn't want to hurt Oliver and make his pain unnecessarily worse. Her breath came in nervous, ragged gulps, and her mind was overflowing with thoughts. Who had attacked them? Why had they attacked? What about her father or Lucia? What about young Tristan? Worry, anxiety and fear gnawed at her sanity. In fact, her hands didn't stop shaking, not until she was done tying the makeshift bandage and Oliver reached out for her right. He studied the back of it.
Oh no.
She forgot.
Her birthmark. Her well-kept, little secret. It glowed a gentle red and was stark against her alabaster skin.
No one, except a handful of people, had ever seen it like this before. It was the very reason why Celestina was never spotted without a proper pair of gloves at social gatherings or public events. Although she was born with her oddly shaped birthmark, it only started to glow randomly after she'd turned one year old. Whenever the latter occurred, strange things happened around her, like moving objects or other supernatural phenomenons. She was unable to control them, but it was still the very reason why Atlana accused her of being a witch, claiming that she'd used her mysterious powers in order to curse her half-brother prior to the last battle. Murderer. That's what she'd called her.
She prepared herself for the worst and expected Oliver to flinch away from her, to see how fear darkened his eyes and judged her.
But no such thing happened.
She followed his gaze and had to realize that instead, he too, had the very same birthmark on his hand. The same half-crescent. How was this possible? What was the meaning of this?
"Poison?" She asked, her voice raspy and jumping a pitch higher. "How do you know that?" She blinked in confusion. Not a moment of rest was given to them, it seemed. After a moment of silent pondering, she shook her head.
"No, it doesn't matter. Every poison has an antidote." She hugged herself in an attempt to keep herself from losing the last bit of rationale that she had. "If we knew what kind of poison it is, we could search for it."
Unable to stay calm, she stood up from her spot besides Oliver and began to pace back and forth in front of him. From the corner of her eye, she took note of the countless of scars which covered his defined body. Although she didn't know how he'd received each one of them, they all spoke of the same: Pain. He must have suffered a lot, just as he was now. Celestina stilled.
"I won't let you die. But don't misinterpret my intentions, Your Highness. The only reason why I'm willing to help you is because you've saved my life there. That, and...," her words trailed off as she looked down at her glowing hand, then at his. "I have questions for you. A lot of them. And you will answer them all, as soon as you're able to."
She returned to crouching down next to him and swung his good arm over her naked shoulders. They were extremely lucky that the season had only recently transitioned into summer.
"Let's put some more distance between us and the palace. There's no point in returning to it for now, especially since it seemed like their primary target was us. Can you get up?"
"My Father's soldiers used them during the war. Our side had the antidote for it, so the arrows could be used even when our soldiers were engaged in the melee. They don't cut deep, but without the antidote, a man could be dead within a few hours." Indeed, it wasn't the first time Oliver had been struck by such an arrow. He recalled the muddied battlefields in Laguna, the time his horse had been felled beneath him. He had been thrown from the saddle and into the circle of corpses below, forced to lay among the dead as he watched the rain of arrows fall around him. The images haunted him, the stench of death still lingering in his nose, the feeling of arrows pinning him to the bodies beneath him. He should have died that day... perhaps he did.
"I won't let you die. But don't misinterpret my intentions, Your Highness..."
How noble of her.
"If I die, our people will be at war once again. Children will be given spears and told to die in the name of our fathers." Oliver retorted, visibly annoyed by the Princess' rather selfish response. Their marriage was political, nothing more. Yet still she insisted that it was all about her. "That's why I saved you, because our marriage is bigger than us." He shot Celestina a glare, before turning his attention back to his wound. Luckily, it seemed that the bleeding had been stalled, though how long until the poison would take him was only a matter of time. "I would marry a harpy if it spared me from the nightmares." He looked up, eyes gazing up at the position of the moon. He had learned how to navigate in the darkness from his time in the military... and he knew well where he should go.
"Yeah. I can stand." He allowed the Princess to help him onto his feet before pointing off into the distance, in the direction of the moon. It hurt his arm to move, but pain was something that he had grown quite used to. If anything, pain meant that he was still very much alive. "Go that way. I know someone that may help us."May, was certainly the key word, but their choices were rather limited given their current situation. Returning to the palace was certainly not an option, not until Oliver was sure whether his father had orchestrated such an event. Otherwise, they would simply be walking back into the wolf's lair.
The two traveled for what felt like several hours, the pain in Oliver's arm beginning to flare with greater intensity. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, his weight relying more and more on Celestina's shoulder to keep himself from falling over. The pair moved through the forest at a slow pace, the trees appearing no different with each step. A more pessimistic person may have surmised that the pair was lost, but eventually, the forested backdrop gave way to a single building sitting in the middle of a clearing. A small, two story home that looked like it had seen better days. The walls were covered in collections of weed and moss, the windows blackened. It wouldn't be a far off guess to assume that the place had been long abandoned.
"Knock on the door." Oliver was breathing heavily now, he could feel his heart beating at an accelerated rate as the poison entered his bloodstream. His face and chest had become a ghastly pale and it took all of his strength to stay conscious. Was it too late? Was he going to die? He watched with weakening eyes as the door eventually swung open, revealing a face that he had not seen in a long, long time.
Your power is an illusion
You thrive on the confusion
But I've got my side
You're no white knight Golden Throne
Deep within the forests of the capital, there exists the domain that few dare tread, a place under the rule of an accursed witch. A horrifying, grotesque creature of death and destruction, It is rumored that the witch has cursed the lands for thousands of years, created famine and brought turmoil to the kingdom. Some would even blame the bloody war between Laguna and Aurelia as the witch's doing, dooming all of civilization to destruction. At least, that is what the villagers say. Superstitious folk, they are, unable to discern the difference between magic and the simple laws of nature. If gravity was a person, perhaps they would try to burn them at the stake, too.
The door the the seemingly abandoned home drew slowly open, the crone revealing herself to the small rays of moonlight above. "What do you want?" The voice was more human than one may have anticipated, though still containing the hint of annoyance that the Princess would have come to expect from Oliver. "Do you always knock on people's doors at this hour?" Her eyes narrowed. She was indeed very human, her eyes blue and her hair oddly the same, stark ashen hue as the Prince himself. Atop her head, she wore a wide brim hat that did not complement her gentle features in the slightest.
Looking past the Princess, she noticed Oliver leaning against her. "He's dying." She remarked, her face still indifferent to the situation, "Hm. It's not every day I get to watch a Prince die in front of me." She glared, a deep hatred resonating between every word. She then averted her eyes back towards the Princess, "Don't worry, sweet. I'll help you bury him. Perhaps the two of us could get to know each other better afterwards." She remarked teasingly, after all, it did get quite lonely in the forest all by herself. The Princess would be quite pleasing to look at, at the very least.
Celestina had no idea how long they walked, holding on to Oliver. She knew she needed to do something, but was at a loss as he navigated them through the forest. She couldn't move faster with him, but she was also afraid to leave him alone for even a moment. She had no idea where they were and knew more assassins could be lying in wait anywhere.
There was a part of her that wished she hadn't left her home, blissfully ignorant of the truth around her.
Up close, she could see how Oliver's face was contorted with pain. He had been right, earlier. Her words thus far had been selfish. She was selfish, had become so since the day she was sold to this damned foreign kingdom. All her life, she'd been selfless and studious and docile, thinking that she would be able to aid Claude in ruling their lands one day. And after he died, she'd still held on to the very same belief; that she could and would rule in his stead, since she'd dedicated her every waking hour for it. In the end however, she was cast aside, her purpose taken from her. Without it, she felt useless and hollow.
Our marriage is bigger than us. Although she acknowledged the fact that it would certainly pave their way towards peace more easily, she also thought that it had never been necessary, marriage. The two kingdoms could have found other means to achieve it. Besides, what was the point of caring for the interests of others when she knew so little about her own? A realization, which had shocked her the most. Maybe this was the reason why she'd decided to answer Oliver so rudely upon his first words to her – because he seemed so relaxed, because he spoke of moments all to himself when she, on the contrary, was never given any. It had evoked envy in her.
When they reached an old house and a woman opened the door, her whole body tensed. Despite its desolate looks, smoke puffed from a chimney, with a herb garden right out front and a stone walkway that led to the door. How had Oliver known about it, about her? Who by the gods lived all on their own, in the middle of such abandoned fields? A lunatic, perhaps. A crazy person.
"This is the person you wanted to ask for help?" she asked the prince incredulously. "Seems to me like she could care less about you."
Whilst she supported Oliver, she tried to get a read on the stranger, prepared to protect them should her suspicions prove to be right. Her gaze wandered over her features, the moonlight casting harsh shadows across the planes of the woman's face. They spoke of stubbornness.
Upon her flirtatious disposition towards the end though, Celestina gawked. "W-what?"
How was she supposed to respond? Was it a smart idea to mention that Oliver was her fiance at this point? She looked at him as she pondered. His complexion was sickeningly pale and he'd began to sweat all over. Every breath seemed to be a struggle for him. Seeing him like this made her heart ache for him for some reason. Why did she care? No matter how much her rationale screamed at her to just leave him be and seek shelter somewhere more safe, she felt compelled to help him regardless. As if a part of herself got tethered to him as soon as they met.
She faced the woman.
"I don't know who you are, but I owe him my life, so burying him together is not an option. But I do need your help," she said pleadingly, paused, then shook her head, causing for a few of her golden locks to spill over her shoulders, "no, he does. He said that you might be able to help him. He got poisoned."
Long, silent seconds passed before another expression crossed the woman's face. As soon as it had appeared however, it vanished. "A pity. Then I'm not interested, really," she dismissed them and moved to close the door again.
Panic pumped through Cel's veins. If this woman was not willing to help him, just as Oliver had hoped she would, he was done for. He'd die. That thought sent her emotions on a wild rampage.
"Wait–!"
For a brief moment, her birthmark flickered red once more. What followed was a strong gush of wind, so potent and powerful, that the door whipped open, as if someone had kicked it in. The women stared at each other, one as shocked and baffled as the other. Celestina was the first to regain her composure.
"We'll be in your debt. I'm not foolish enough to ask you for your help without offering you something in return. Please."
Oliver wasn't surprised that the witch wasn't interested in helping him, no, what surprised him more was the determination in Celestina's gaze. More than anything, she wanted him to live, a realization that the wounded Prince was clearly not used to. If he were to die, then she wouldn't have to marry him, she would be free from the horrors of their arranged future together. But as the Prince mustered up all of his strength to keep himself together, a sudden gust of wind blasted the door practically off of its hinges. The sudden display of magic was shocking, causing all three figures to stare in bewilderment, as if daring each other to conjure some sort of explanation for the moment. Yet it would be Celestina who would break the silence first, once again asking the witch for her help in saving his own life.
"You destroyed my door." The witch's glare became more frightening, watching the pair with intense eyes. "That's gives me even less reason to help you." She knelt down, examining the hinges of her broken door before turning back towards Celestina, "I don't know how you did that... but I hope you're planning on paying for this."
"Leanna." Oliver's voice was weaker now, though his gaze remained as strong as ever. "Please... I need your help. I'll never ask for anything ever again."
The witch paused, eyes shifting back towards the Prince, "Saying my name isn't going to save you. I've been in these woods by myself for years now. Why should I help you?"
"Because..." The Prince bit his lip, his skin paler with each passing moment. "....because you're my sister."
There was a pause, a boiling rage from within the woman's chest. She could feel her heart beating faster as her hands curled into fists. "That means nothing."
"Do you really think you'd be safe here? You're only an hour's ride from the castle." Oliver explained, "I've kept your home and identity hidden from father ever since you ran away... I've sent men to check up on you every day. I know you use medicine to help the sick villagers... they call you a witch for it, they try to kill you, but still... you help them." Oliver coughed, his legs buckling under his weight.
"Shut... up." Leanna growled, teeth clenched together as a single tear fell down the side of her cheek.
"Please... I'll never ask for anything again." Oliver repeated himself, lowering his head before his older sister. "Father tried to take my life. Just like he tried to take yours."
There was a long period of silence, the clouds looming overhead as thunder crackled from above. Leanna finally stepped to the side, motioning for the Princess to bring Oliver inside. "It's going to rain." She waited for Celestina to bring the Prince inside before shutting the broken door to the best of her ability. The home was well-furnished, a quiet escape from the ostentatiously decorated palace he had lived in almost his entire life. How he wished he could live out his days in such a peaceful place such as this. "Take him to the guest room. Down the hall and first door on the left. I'll be there shortly." She would disappear for a moment as the pair did as they were told, eventually the Prince finding the much needed comfort of a bed.
Upon being placed into the bed, the Prince reached upwards, cupping his betrothed by the side of her cheek. "Thank you, Celestina." He knew that he didn't need to thank her, she had given him her reasons for helping him, after all. But still... it just felt... right. It wasn't long until the Prince's consciousness faded into a deep slumber, at which point Leanna had stepped into the room with a vial clasped between her hands.
"It's a simple remedy, really." She sighed, moving next to the newly slumbering Prince, "Help me tilt his head up for a moment." She waited for Celestina to do as she was told before pressing the vial against his lips, the liquid passing easily down his throat. "He'll need a night's rest. But he'll be fine now. An hour more and he would be dead." She stood up, moving back towards the doorway. "I only have this room. So you'll have to stay with him tonight." Leanna beckoned for the Princess to follow, "We should give him some space for now, I... have a few questions I want to ask you." She moved into the next room, pouring two glasses of tea into dainty cups before setting them upon the table.
"I know who you are." The exiled Princess watched Celestina with careful eyes. "They call you a witch as well, don't they?" She frowned, "I... where do I even begin?" Tears returned to Leanna's eyes, her hands shaking as she struggled to speak. It took her several moments and a deep breath to compose herself, "Your brother loved you..."
While Leanna prepared some tea for them, Cel found herself sitting quietly at the table. She sat leaned back on a wooden chair, her hands folded neatly on her lap as she stared off into a deep nothingness. Whereas her head had been filled with horrors only a few minutes earlier, it was completely empty now, void of any thoughts. The last couple of hours had been the worst of her life. Now that she finally had a moment of peace and Oliver was not on the brink of breathing his last breath anymore, all her strength left her and she felt extremely tired and weak. Her eyes stung, her body hurt all over and her skin felt icky. A heavy sigh left her lips. At the same time, the first few raindrops splashed gently against the only window within the kitchen, just as Leanna had predicted it. Pitter-patter. It transitioned the mood into a somber and quiet one.
Shortly afterwards, a cup of what she recognized as chamomile tea was set in front of her. That's when her ruby red eyes re-focused and trained on her–on Oliver's sister. Princess Leanna de Benadotte.
She felt like a fool for not having realized their blood ties earlier. They had the very same hair and eyes, though Leanna's blue wasn't as bright or beautiful as her brother's. Although she wasn't dressed like a noble or talked like one, Celestina could tell by the way she'd brewed the tea or lifted her cup, that Leanna too, had endured tedious lessons for one. Her every movement right down to the tip of her little finger was proof of it. What was her story? How had she wounded up here? As cozy as her little home had turned out to be, it wasn't a palace.
She allowed the exiled princess to gather her thoughts, curious to know what she was about to say. At this point, Celestina was quite confident that nothing would be able to faze her anymore.
Until she began to mention Claude.
Her eyes widened in shock.
Claude. Her dear, dear brother. Grief took hold of her chest and squeezed it tightly.
As far as she knew, her brother had never kept lovers or showed any interest in one. Seeing how emotional Leanna herself had gotten over the mere mention of him however, she doubted that the other was lying. Which meant... that Claude had kept secrets from her. Her chest tightened even more and constricted to the point of pain. Cel had always believed that the two of them were honest with each other, in every aspect. No matter what. No matter who. To know that this hadn't been the case at all? It hurt. A lot. Knowing her brother, he probably didn't want to burden her with the highly forbidden nature of his love for Leanna and the dangers that came with it. For just as Oliver, Leanna used to be a princess of the enemy. Contrary to the budding peace which the two factions enjoyed now though, their love likely came to be amidst all the terrible bloodshed prior to it. The pair must have gone through quite the hardships.
'Why?' Celestina's hands curled into fists. 'Was I so lacking in your eyes that you felt the need to keep this from me? I'm sorry.'
Her gaze dropped. "He never talked about you to me. How do you know him? How was it possible for you two to meet? Why were you...," she lost her voice several times, both from exhaustion and speechlessness. It sounded timid, broken. "Forgive me for asking, but why were you exiled to this place? Is it related to–... to him?"
There was a moment of silence as Leanna recoiled, her eyes drifting away from Celestina's own. It was clear in the former Princess' portrait that she was quite apprehensive about speaking about such an emotional subject, even if it was the sister of her former lover. "When I met Claude, it was love at first sight," she explained, her voice crackling under the weight of her own words, "... we were at war then, but there were talks about ending the war with a marriage, much like what you and Oliver are doing now. Only, our fathers were still not ready to admit that their people could no longer keep fighting." Leanna leaned forward, a frown stretched upon her face, "When the peace negotiations fell apart... I ran away with Claude. He promised me that I could live with him... that I would be welcomed in Laguna. We both hid in a nearby village as he sent letters to his... your father."
Leanna shook her head, "Your father didn't want his heir to marry a disgraced Princess. To him, I was a whore without any political value. He ordered Claude to return to the Kingdom, or else he would lose his place in Laguna as well." Tears welled within Leanna's eyes, "He promised me he would come back for me once the war was over, once things were safe and we wouldn't have to fear for our lives... How naive I was." Small droplets cascaded down the silhouette of her face, the woman reaching up to wipe them clean, "I gave my country up to be with your brother, how ironic that he would leave me for his." She sighed, "I wonder if he planned to come back for me. Who knows."
The witch stood from her seat, "It's late. I need to get some rest. I had a warm bath prepared before you two came, but it looks like you could use it more than I could." She pointed down the hall. "It's the open door on the right, just beside the guest room. I'm sure you can find it on your own. Goodnight."With that, Leanna disappeared around the nearby corner, shutting the door to her room rather abruptly and leaving the Lagunan Princess in silence.
Later...
Darkness encroached the Prince's memories once again, the smell of blood invading his nose as screams filled his ears. Across a bridge lay a thousand corpses, mangled and impaled by broken spears and arrows. He remembered this place well, for it had been the final battle in his father's tumultuous war: the battle that marked the end of the war. Always placed in the vanguard, Oliver and his knights were to seize Rochester's Bridge, a crossing that would bring the Aurelians to the capital of Laguna. Blood soaked the river as bodies piled the bridge and the river, he remembered what it felt like to be trampled by his own men as they fled for their lives...
By the time the battle had ended, Oliver remembered clamoring above the bodies, only to find another man who had done the same. He couldn't remember his face, only that it had been covered in blood and dirt as well. The Prince turned to walk away, but the man pounced upon him. Even without a weapon, the man placed his hands around Oliver's neck. The Prince remembered the look in the man's eyes. He was afraid, just as Oliver was. Neither of them wanted to die. Neither of them wanted to kill each other.
But Oliver had no choice.
He remembered grabbing the knife he always kept in his boot, driving the dagger into the man's chest. He had watched many men die before. But this one was different, the blood that gurgled from his lips, the shock that took his face...
Oh, how he wished he could forget.
He wished he could...
A sudden movement caused Oliver to instantly spring from his bed, like a man that had been possessed by a demon. In his confused daze he reached outwards, his strong hand grabbing the silhouette by the throat before spinning around. He pinned the figure backwards against the covers of the bed, both hands now dangerously wrapped around their throat. His grip tightened, until he could hear the crackle of a familiar voice underneath his grip. It was only then that the moon's light illuminated the figure's face, revealing not an assailant, but his betrothed. Slowly, Oliver loosened his grip around Celestina's neck, though he was slow to remove them completely.
"Sorry. I had a bad dream." The Prince's hands slowly retreated from Celestina's throat, giving her the freedom of breath once again. "I didn't mean to jump at you like that." Though his voice was apologetic, his sapphire gemstones looked down upon the Princess hungrily. "Are... you alright?"
Relief and gratitude. That's what she was feeling as she soaked in the plain and simple bath that Leanna had prepared. It smelled faintly of sweet flowers, and she'd also spotted a pouch of wild herbs next to the basin. It was exactly what she'd needed after those long hours of struggling against time and–ultimately–death. Her intricate gown lay carelessly tossed aside next to the tub, along with a few expensive jewelry pieces. She'd lost her shoes a long while ago, and she winced slightly as soon as she noticed that her feet were covered with small wounds and blisters. She looked at her hands as she tried to catch the warm water in between her fingers. Like everything else in her life lately, it slipped right past her slender digits. It made her laugh bitterly to herself.
Whilst she leaned back and allowed her muscles to relax, the Princess silently analyzed her conversation with Leanna. She felt conflicted. The way Leanna had described her brother was completely different from the Claude whom she knew. To her, her brother was always radiant and chivalrous, a just man who wouldn't hide away from his responsibilities.
What else had been kept from her? Thus far, she'd always prided herself on being knowledgeable and resilient. At this very moment however, she had to realize her own nescience.
Nevertheless, she was certain that the reason why Claude had decided to leave Leanna's side, was because he hadn't chosen his kingdom over his lover. No, he simply wasn't someone who abandoned his loved ones. Rather, he was someone who would do everything in his power to see a dream come to fruition, who fought for what he believed in—even if it meant winning a war. And after the war had been won and he fairly earned his right to the throne, he would have returned to Leanna, killing two birds with one stone. Her brother had been that ambitious of a man. He could have lived a happy life.
And then, then there's me... Her thoughts trailed off. She sunk deeper into the water until it reached her chin. If possible, she wanted to stay right here. Her body hurt all over. But she knew that she'd have to eventually get up and return to her betrothed's room.
By the time she stood in front of his bed, she'd managed to dry off her hair a little. The golden strands reached all the way down to the small of her back. She'd also managed to get a hold on a change of clothes, a clean linen nightgown had been neatly placed on a chair close to the tub earlier.
Celestina crossed her arms in front of her chest as she weighed her options. She'd never shared her bed with a man before. She was considering to just make use of the floor right next to the bed, but then she was reminded of unpleasant memories. A week before she'd finally consented to marry the Prince, they'd thrown her into a cell and stripped her of her freedom. It had been the only way to break her stubbornness then. No matter how much she begged, night after night, she'd spent her time on the cold stone floor of her royal prison. Fast forward a couple of weeks later, here she was, peeking at the sleeping face of the man she'd fought so hard to meet. He certainly had a nasty mouth on him, this one, but he wasn't a bad person. His exchange with Leanna earlier had proven as much. Or with Tristan. Prince Oliver seemed to be a man who was very protective over those he considered family. Loyal, and tender.
She crouched a little closer and rested her hands on her knees as she took full advantage of his current state. She'd fantasized about him a lot during her time in that cell. Was he big and sturdy and hairy like the men in the far North? Or maybe slender and baby-faced like most aristocrats in the South? Obese or crippled from war? She tipped her head. Prince Oliver turned out to be none of those things. He was handsome, extremely so. Tall and muscular, but not overly. His features were strong and noble, with an unerringly stubborn chin which dipped further up into high, attractive cheekbones. His hair color was odd, though somehow beautiful all the same.
Without thinking much about it, she reached out for a single, silvery lock, which had fallen over his eyes. That's when she realized her mistake, but too late.
Powerful hands lashed out for her neck and her back hit the mattress of the bed with a muffled thud. She began to kick her legs at him, though in vain, as he climbed on top of her. Celestina's hands scratched and ripped at his, her body aching in pain. She could tell that he wasn't in his right mind, and she really shouldn't have loomed over a man whose body was trained and used to battle, no matter what, when or where, even in the face of vulnerability. His fingers against her neck were burning hot; he was probably running a fever, too. She fought him, tried to say his name. And it seemed to work. An expression of recognition found its way to his crazed eyes.
She coughed a few times as soon as air pumped through her lungs again, her lower lip quivering with fear. Her fingers were still hovering above where they had held on tightly to his around her neck, and she stared at him. His apologetic, coaxing words did nothing to soothe her nerves, even if she didn't doubt them for a moment. She knew they were as truthful as they were unadorned.
Throughout their whole journey, not once had she allowed herself to cry. She wasn't someone who cried easily, not merely to retain her dignity as a royal.
"I...," she croaked out weakly, her voice thick with emotion. This. This was it. It was too much. All of it.
Hateful tears gathered in her eyes, not meant for him but for her own weakness. She blinked them away, causing for them to run hotly against her soft skin, though new ones were quick to replace them. Heaving sobs began to wrack her body. It was so small compared to his over hers.
"I think I need to have a slight breakdown right now." She shook her head and finally reached out for one of his hands. "But don't go. Stay. Take... take responsibility for this. This is your fault."
Though his hands no longer possessed the Princess' throat, the Prince knew that the damage had been done. Oliver watched as tears welled within Celestina's gaze, obfuscating the vivid, scarlet kaleidoscopes that gazed back at him. He remained still as her slender hand reached out, catching one of his hands as she spoke to him. Responsibility... his fault. Though Oliver could control his dreams no better than he could tame the wind, he knew better than to abandon the crying Princess. She wanted him to stay, so he would stay. "I know." His fingers slowly interlocked themselves between Celestina's own, his offhand reaching down to capture the end of her chin. "I wasn't trying to hurt you. I..." he struggled to vocalize the words, to explain just how awful his dreams were... he hoped that she would never have to see the things that he had.
"I'm sorry." He said, finally, having no other words to describe how he felt. As tears continued to cascade down the sides of Celestina's face, he slowly tipped her chin upwards; so that his eyes could meet the Princess' once again. Celestina was everything a man could possibly desire: young and alluring, with golden strands befitting of a Princess. Her soft features accentuated her portrait well, her full lips enticing the young Prince to meet them with his own. She was smaller than him, but that was to be expected of a Princess. If not for her crimson eyes, she was perhaps the spitting image of a goddess, her likeness enchanting enough to be stained upon the glass of a cathedral. Yet for some reason, the Prince found those scarlet eyes to hold so much beauty within them... so much emotion... so much strength.
Indeed, wars had been started over Princesses that were less beautiful... and she was to be his. "I know you don't like me." Oliver remarked, a frown making its way across his face, "But... you're going to be mine one day... and I will be yours." His lips hovered downwards, edging dangerously close to the Princess' own as he spoke, his warm, breathy words passing gently against her skin. "You may never like me... never... love me. I don't know if I'll ever love you either... but... I want you to know I will be the best husband I can for you." His hand tightened its grip upon Celestina's, pressing her hand backwards until it was pinned against the bed's soft covers. "I... I know that you don't trust me... but I will always protect you. That much I promise."
With that, his mouth suddenly closed the distance between them, lips crashing against one another into a very unexpected, first kiss. As his lips forcefully pressed into Celestina's own, a low growl emanated from deep within the Prince, passing between their lips as he delivered a rough, lingering kiss upon his future Queen's lips. Both of his hands found the Princess' wrists, pinning them down against the covers in a shocking moment of dominance. She was going to be his... and the Prince would no longer have it any other way. "Don't cry. I'm not going to hurt you." He promised her between desperate breaths, his lips moving to attack hers once again. Despite his words, his tongue would press its way between her lips and into her mouth, teasingly lapping... prodding... exploring her own. He pressed his weight against her, another series of primal growls echoing between their joined mouths.
She was going to be his...
Giving the Princess a moment to breathe, Oliver parted their mouths, his lips trailing downwards and finding its way to her throat. "I'm sorry for hurting you, Celestina." He cooed, his lips planting a firm kiss upon where his hands had assaulted her just moments before. "I didn't mean to." His fingers loosened their grip upon Celestina's hands, the marks on both of their hands glowing vividly in the darkness. Oliver noticed it immediately, yet his sapphire eyes still watched Celestina with full attention. For some reason, he wanted her forgiveness, to make amends for the rocky start that they had set out upon. They were enemies, yes, but that did not mean it had to stay such a way. Or perhaps, the Prince was simply seduced by the Princess' charm. Either way...
I'm sorry.
Those were the words she'd yearned to hear. Comfort. She wanted it, and Oliver probably felt the same, if not more desperately than her. The Prince was likely drowning in an agony way greater than her own, haunted by vicious nightmares and damned by his own parents as he was. Unloved and unwanted – a black sheep. In a way, he was just like her.
No...
He was exactly like her.
For the first time in her life, Cel felt as though Oliver could be the one person, who would be able to truly understand and share in her pain. A person she thought impossible to meet, to exist, someone who would accept her for who she was. Her head felt heavy and hazy as she allowed herself to hope. And as if on cue, he was beginning to whisper sweet promises to her. While she was indulging in them, they also sowed seeds of doubt. With the way things were presently, their engagement was far from being a stable affair. Depending on what would happen within the next few days, they might as well find each other on opposing sides again; as enemies, as people at war.
Would he still protect her then? She wouldn't be his, and he wouldn't be hers.
Unlikely, she concluded.
She was a stranger to him. An unimportant existence in the face of a whole nation's value. The harsh reality of this weighed down on her even more oppressively than anything else before. So she wanted to push him away from her, in an attempt to shoo away any more unpleasant inklings. At least far enough so that she could sit up and regain her composure.
Then came the kiss.
At first, the sudden contact of their lips elicited nothing from her. Celestina froze. Her thoughts, her breath, her heart – all frozen. She'd expected him to simply stay with her, regardless of how insane it was that she still longed for his proximity even after what had just transpired. An honest apology, too, definitely. But a kiss? She blinked several times. It wasn't gentle, playful or kind. It was raw, intense and... somehow... possessive in nature. It wasn't her first exactly, she'd kissed several rakish sons of noble houses before, but it was the first kiss that she'd felt throughout her whole body. Like tiny, pleasurable electric shocks that whizzed along her curves and seeped into her bones. Her aching limbs became numb, startled into an odd state of submission. Would he... Would he use his tongue? She really didn’t want to start gagging, and she needed to get back to her... to her...
Wait. What had she been doing before?
At the moment, she couldn't remember any of it. When he growled, the sound of it rippled through her. As expected, his tongue tangled with hers and Celestina's body responded to it. Her back arched and her thighs tensed. With every lick and flick of it, she began to gradually melt under him. Warmth spread from the very tips of her fingers down to much deeper parts within her. To say that he was a good kisser was an understatement, really. The man kissed like a goddamned devil. He was bewitching her and she let him, her eyes half-closing.
That's when the Princess realized, that she'd been naive for not considering anything else but shared silence and an apology from Oliver. This person, the Prince, he was a man. Up until this point, she hadn't been fully aware of what that entailed. To her, he had just seemed like an annoying brat. Someone who was known for his battle prowess and who was probably capable of killing her within seconds, but not someone who could possibly interest her in an intimate way.
By the time he released her wrists, he got her whimpering and panting uncontrollably, her cheeks beautifully red and still wet from her tears, but she'd stopped to cry a while ago.
"You...," she opened and closed her mouth as she fought to even her breathing, "I believe you. Whatever nightmares you had, controlled you. I forgive you."
As she studied him, a new kind of sensation coiled inside her. Celestina reached out for his wrists and pinned them against the covers to both sides of her shapely hips.
Then, with a new-found strength she didn't know she had left, she sat up swiftly and knocked her forehead against his. A loud CRACK followed and echoed inside the dark room. She used the momentum to tumble off the bed and landed on the hard floor with a pained yelp. She rolled from her left to her right a few times while pressing her hands against her forehead, which would most likely bruise from the impact by morning.
The blonde princess managed to scramble up to her feet and pointed one finger at him. It was turning into a habit. "But not for this, you stupid, perverted, shameless bastard!"She huffed indignantly, looking completely disheveled. "You seem completely fine to me again. Perhaps the poison wasn't as bad as it seemed to be," she continued with more venom in her voice. "Touch me like that again without my permission, and I'll kill you myself, Benadotte."
Without another word or glance his way, Celestina stormed off into the hallway. She found what appeared to be Leanna's living room and plopped down on a cushioned sofa. It was a bit dusty, but at this point, she really didn't care. Still slightly out of breath, in fact, all she could think about were Oliver's lips.
--------------------------
At the same time, in a similarly dark yet more luxurious room far, far away from Leanna's small home, three people whispered heatedly. One was a woman, with long, luscious red hair and green eyes which had narrowed into dangerous slits, the other two were men, one cloaked in a black cloth, the other old but dignified and dressed in garments worthy of only royalty.
"How could you have failed?!" The woman shrieked, snapping the fan she'd held inside her gloved hands into two. Her voice was as clear as a bell. And just as shrill as one could be.
"We've planned this for so long. Everything, - everything! - was perfect. I'll ask you again – how could you have failed? Weren't you supposed to be the best of your kind? Are you even aware of the consequences we'd have to face, if word got out that we—?!"
"Please, Atlana, calm yourself," the royal one cut in, "or else we'll be heard. We must remain calm and proceed carefully from here on out. Nothing's lost yet."
"Oh!" Atlana, the Empress and wife of the 24th sun of Laguna, clapped her hands together, as if delighted, "Atlana, calm yourself," she mimicked, then flashed both men a menacing glare. "I can't, and I won't. I was this close to finally be rid of that awful and annoying wench. THIS CLOSE, but she managed to survive. Again! Do you have any idea how tiring it is to make sure that her father drinks the drug-induced tea that I've ordered the servants to give him? To make him more reasonable towards my wishes? How difficult it was to put that curse on him? Two years. It took me two whole years, otherwise he would have never lent an ear to me."
The Empress began to pace back and forth inside the bed chamber. Carved out of the finest marble and stones, this was a room inside the royal palace of Aurelia. The place of the recent tragedy. While Latazar lay injured inside another bed chamber, she was here, discussing sinister business. They all shared the same goal: To kill and to get rid of those they deemed a threat.
The only one who wasn't interested in neither politics nor seemed particularly biased, was the one in the black cloak. A mercenary, a killer. He was an assassin of the highest order. Despite being yelled at, he was calm, eerily so. He looked young, with fine features, a pair of stormy grey eyes and short strands of black hair that peaked out from under his hood.
"You have my deepest apologies. But His Majesty is right. Nothing is lost yet. Prince Oliver was hit by an arrow with the unique poison. He might be dead already. Without him, according to the information that was given to me, the young Princess should have no chances of survival out there."
The royal one nodded, while Atlana was silent. "You could be right. But I also know that cursed child," he said pensively, "no matter how much I wished he weren't my own. He doesn't die that easily. As long as I haven't seen his dead body with my own two eyes, I'm certain he's alive. We can't leave out that option."
"Very well. In that case, now that they are no longer under the protection of their most loyal servants, we could always track them down and finish the job that way."
"Then why—"
"It's a pity, indeed. But I must also praise you for your quick thinking, Hawk. It definitely looked like we were under an attack."
The royal one picked up a chess piece from a nearby table and lifted it into the air. He turned it inside his hand a few times.
Atlana walked up to him and studied his inscrutable features with a knowing expression on her pretty face.
"Who would believe that we were under an attack? And by whom?"
The royal one turned towards the Empress and tossed her a smug grin. "Remember our plan. Cool your head, I find your lack of wit disappointing, my dear. You don't seem to work well under pressure. Anyway," he began as he spread a map across the table. "What other way is there to unite two warring nations without an arranged marriage, hm? The quickest and surest way?" He handed the chess piece to Atlana. He placed his hand on top of hers and guided it along the map.
Eventually, their small journey stopped and the royal one placed the chess piece on a particular spot on the map. It sat atop a piece of land which was labelled as "Fuerheit" – a small yet independent nation across the borders of both Aurelia and Laguna. It was known for its riches and beautiful lands.
"I believe you. Whatever nightmares you had, controlled you. I forgive you."
The Prince smiled at Celestina's softly spoken words, azure gemstones studying his beautiful betrothed carefully. He could feel his heart beating faster now, the heat swelling in his chest as the Princess lay vulnerably underneath him. He allowed his hands to navigate to her waist, softly caressing the sides of her lithe silhouette as she stared back up at him with her enchanting gaze. The whimpers that touched his ears only encouraged the Prince further. Perhaps... love was something not so far fetched in their marriage. Perhaps, the two could one day find happiness in each other's arms. Oliver looked down upon Celestina with hungry eyes. Perhaps this would be the night they would seal their vows with one another... his hands slowly making their way to--
THWACK!
Oliver recoiled in surprise, the sudden strike sending him reeling backwards. "Holy--?!" It was the only word that could come to mind as he felt his forehead throbbing in pain, stepping backwards as he held a single hand to the spot. It seemed that the Princess fared no better, rolling around across the floor as if her nightgown had caught fire. The Prince steadied himself upon the adjacent nightstand, his vision temporarily disoriented by the blow. By the time his vision had focused into clarity, the Princess had sprung suddenly from her position, delivering onto him a very solid piece of her mind.
"Touch me like that again without my permission, and I'll kill you myself, Benadotte."
"Perhaps I would have stopped... had it not been for your moaning." He retorted with indignation, eyes narrowing at the Princess' sudden change in demeanor. He had not expected the Princess to act so fickle, her sudden aggression confusing the Prince to no end. Just a moment ago, it seemed that she had been practically melting into his embrace, only to assault him in the most uncouth manner possible. He parted his lips to further insult the Princess, but before the barrage of words could be released, Celestina had stormed out of the room and disappeared around the doorway. "Damnit," He growled, his hands reaching upwards to further ruffle at his already tousled, silvery locks, "...what is with that girl?" The Prince thought about chasing after her and apologizing for what he had done, but his pride struck the notion down immediately.
"Fine, sleep on the couch." He mumbled to himself, the pang of annoyance hanging upon his words. Yet, even as his frustration surmounted, the Princess' lips still lingered in his thoughts, her intoxicating smell and her fair eyes still vividly teasing his mind. She was far more enchanting than he had given her credit for... and frustratingly, her unpredictably hostile nature made him only want her more. Perhaps he saw her attitude as nothing more than a challenge, a wall guarding a more doting and loving interior.
Indeed, the Prince secretly plotted to claim her for his own.
The Prince took a nearby blanket into his arms, following after the Princess into the adjacent room. He had found her quickly, laying upon the only couch in the small home. Her golden head was arched to the side, her beautiful scarlet gemstones hidden beneath closed eyelids. She was asleep now, laying peacefully upon the couch. With tender care he approached, draping a blanket over her form before leaning down to place a kiss upon her forehead. "Sleep well, my Princess." His words were hushed, careful to not disturb his slumbering fiancée.
With a heavy sigh, the Prince returned to his room, then to his bed, slipping underneath the covers to fall back into a deep, albeit troubled slumber.
The next morning came sooner than the Prince would have liked, the sun's rays piercing through the quaint windows of Leanna's abode and upon the Prince's face. He stirred, until finding the warmth unsettling enough to awaken. His azure eyes flickered, eventually gazing upon the ceiling above. With a groan, the Prince rolled to the side before removing himself from the comfortable embrace of the bed sheets. He remained shirtless, his grotesque, battlefield decorations still in full view. Would his sister even have clothes suitable for him? Having to remain shirtless until they approached the nearest city sounded like a nuisance, if anything.
The Prince made his way into the adjacent room, noticing that the Princess was already shifting awake as well. "Good morning." He greeted as he moved closer, stepping behind her before suddenly draping his arms around her from behind. He placed his chin upon the top of her golden head, a gesture aimed at making her uncomfortable rather than affection. "You looked cold last night, so I brought you a blanket." He grinned, "Did you know that you snore? I didn't know Princesses were even capable of such a thing." The Prince chuckled, his arms tightening around her. His head hovered downwards, until his lips were just inches away from the back of her ear.
"You should have slept with me. I guarantee it would have been much warmer." He purred into the Princess' ear, before pulling away.
"Would you stop harassing her?" Leanna remarked, emerging from her own quarters. She rolled her eyes, before migrating to the small kitchen not too far from the couch. "I left a shirt and some warm water in the washroom. Go clean yourself up while I make breakfast."
The Prince nodded, "Hm. Thank you, Leanna." He remarked, shooting the Princess a passing glance before disappearing into the washroom.
"That mark on your hand. It's just like Oliver's, isn't it?" She leaned down, removing a frying pan from a nearby cupboard before igniting her stove with a single strike of flint. As the flame roared, the former Princess waited for the heat to build. "I've seen his glow before... but not like that." She tilted her head towards her destroyed door, which had to be bolted shut with an extra piece of wood to stop it from blowing open from the wind. "It glows stronger when you two are near, doesn't it?" She cracked several eggs over the frying pan, the sound of sizzling and the sweet aroma of fresh breakfast filling the room. "Whether you like it or not, fate has brought you and my brother together."
Heavy. Why was her body feeling so damned heavy? It gave Celestina reason enough to purse her lips in disdain as she stretched her arms above her head and yawned unceremoniously. Slowly but surely, she awoke from her slumber. Dreamless, as usual.
"Marie? Jenette?" She called out tentatively with her eyes still closed, finding it odd how none of her personal maids had approached her yet. They'd never been of the tardy kind and always made sure to wake her up in the morning, early and at the exact same time. Then they'd prepare a bath for her and would end the ritual by dressing her for the day.
"I've slept awfully," the princess continued to mumble, "the bed they gave me is so uncomfortable. It probably explains why the majority of the Aurelian nobility is so peevish. They're all suffering from horrible back pain." She chuckled at her own sardonic joke, unable to hold back her attempt at sarcasm even while half-asleep. More seconds passed however, in which neither Marie nor Jenette showed themselves.
Celestina frowned. She'd forgotten something. Something very important.
Her eyes snapped open and she stared at an unfamiliar ceiling. She shot up from her spot on the couch, panic prompting her pulse to run faster. The sudden motion caused for her blanket to slip toward the floor. Squinting, Celestina looked around the room. Where...?
"Good morning."
She froze at the greeting. That voice.
Then she remembered, remembered everything. Her arrival in Aurelia, the ball, the attack. And most of all, him. Him and his stupidly soft lips.
Her face flushed and she was able to turn her head in time to watch how Oliver walked behind her.
What was he...?
She felt strong arms wrap around her shoulders. Her first response was a sharp intake of breath. His voice, deliciously low and still rumblingly pitched from sleep, and his warmth surrounded her, toying with her senses. She remained quiet and stock-still though, even as he began to taunt her. Celestina was never really one to lash out immediately. Rather, her anger built up over time, and came in stacks. Her hands clenched into fists and her right eye began to twitch as a feeling of annoyance bubbled inside her chest. Calm yourself, she chanted inside her head, like a mantra. Stay calm.
“Did you know that you snore?”
Oh, to hells with calm. Had he no shame?
“You insolent–-,” she recoiled in horror and aimed for his arms, though he likely saw it coming and retreated in time to avoid her hands. She jumped up and whirled around, readying herself to tell him off, only to lock eyes with Leanna instead. A flood of awkwardness washed over her as she remembered their last conversation. As a result, the insult died inside her throat and she ended up coughing it away. What she wasn't able to hide however, was how her body shook with anger, and it was only after Oliver had left that she finally allowed it free reign.
While Leanna busied herself with making breakfast, Cel paced back and forth behind her. Whereas she'd looked and felt miserable the night before, Celestina was back to being her haughty and quick-witted self, full of spunk and energy.
“Fate!” She scoffed eventually. “Fate has brought me together with a—with a dolt!” She brought her hands together, making it look as if she was choking something or someone invisible to the eye. “Was he dropped on his head by chance? At birth?” Then the pacing continued. “Not only did he take advantage of me in a moment of emotional weakness – not my proudest moment, I admit – but he also acts as if we’ve suddenly become friends over night. He’s insane.” Yes, insane. To think she had actually worried about him. Why? What was the point of worrying about someone who was insane? Blast and damnation at her own conscience. She refused to interpret the kiss as anything but sexual harassment. Not something which was simply supposed to make her feel good and to get her to stop crying. An amiable gesture, almost. The circumstances at that time were what put her off the most.
“What by all reason are you talking about?” Leanna asked, clearly confused by Celestina’s ramblings, though she was certain that she'd rather not know. "Let's focus on the more important matters. And see to it that you brush that bird's nest of yours. You'll find a brush on the table next to the couch."
The princess stopped mid-step and stared long and hard at Leanna's back. If looks could kill, the woman would have ended up as shredded ribbons in her own home.
Begrudgingly, she did as she was told and finally sat herself down at the small kitchen table. Her eyes wandered to her birthmark as Leanna set several loafs of bread in front of her, as well as perfectly fried eggs and... was that bacon? And cheese? Where did those come from?
"You're right. I'm still very confused about all this. His is identical to mine. They must be related somehow. And I'm pretty sure that I'm not the only one who is able to make strange... events happen. I'm very sorry about your door, by the way." It felt strange, to talk so openly about something which she'd kept a secret for so long.
Leanna narrowed her eyes at Celestina, then shrugged her shoulders and began to prepare some tea. "Whatever, you'll compensate me properly eventually. Back to your mark – tell me everything you know about it."
Cel raised a blonde brow. "There's not much to tell, to be honest. I've tried to look into it, in books mostly, but I never found a similar symbol."
Leanna didn't continue their conversation until she'd sat herself down across from her. "Here, in Aurelia, unlike in Laguna, our people tend to worship a few selected gods. Hoeldan, for example, we pray to on the day of Harvest. Or Zephyr, the goddess of war, for the safe return of our soldiers and for her protection. There are several other gods, and truth be told I'm one of the few who doesn't believe in any of them." She paused, as if debating with herself whether or not she should press on. "Recently, I've heard rumors about a village towards the far north which is known for being the home of a cult. They, too, pray to a god, and... and if the rumors are to be believed, one can identify them by the symbol of a strange moon." Her blue eyes dropped to study Cel's birthmark. "One very similar to yours."
While Celestina and Leanna were left to their own devices, Prince Oliver cleaned himself for the day ahead. He submerged himself underneath the embrace of warm water, a luxury that he had quickly learned to appreciate during war - where he had to make do without such things. But even as he enjoyed the warmth of his bath, he could still hear their voices through the washroom walls, albeit faintly. They spoke about him first... but then the conversation soon shifted to the symbols that both of them shared. Oliver's hand emerged from the water, the young Prince studying the symbol that faintly glowed upon the back of his hand. Indeed, fate had brought the two of them together.
The Prince had stood from the bath, noticing a set of clothes that had been neatly folded and placed nearby. He was surprised to find that his sister did, indeed, own men's clothing. He slipped his arms through the sleeves, fastening the buttons with his fingers. He noticed quickly that the shirt was a rather tight fit, no doubt it had been owned by a man that was smaller than he was. Perhaps later, he would be able to replace it.
"Recently, I've heard rumors about a village towards the far north which is known for being the home of a cult. They, too, pray to a god, and... and if the rumors are to be believed, one can identify them by the symbol of a strange moon."
The Prince had been drying his hair with a towel when he heard Leanna's words seep through the walls. If what she said was true, perhaps the pair could finally find answers to the many questions that they sought after. He eventually stepped out of the washroom, the pleasant aroma of freshly made breakfast gracing his nose. "If what you say is true, I will go there immediately." Oliver revealed that he had been listening to their conversation all along, moving towards Celestina and pulling out the chair beside her as he spoke. "This mark has been a curse for as long as I can remember." He sat himself down, eyes flickering in Celestina's direction. "You should stay here, Celestina."
"Um, do I get a say in this?" Leanna grunted at her brother's suggestion. Not that it mattered, for Leanna could tell a headstrong woman when she saw one. Celestina would have no interest in staying out of this matter. They all knew that. "She can stay, if she wants."
The Prince was no magician... no wizard, but if Celestina hadn't been told such a thing, she would perhaps not be questioning how the Prince had made his breakfast disappear so quickly. At one glance it was there, then, as if her eyes had been playing tricks on her, the plate had been rendered completely empty. "If you have a bag and some supplies I can take with me, I'd appreciate it." He spoke nonchalantly, speaking as if nothing had happened.
Leanna too, had not seen where the food had exactly went. "I... Uh... can probably fix something together." She explained, glancing over towards Celestina in mild disbelief. "I can give you some food and money, but I don't have much to spare."
"Thanks, Leanna. I owe you a lot."
"You owe me more than a lot." She crossed her arms against her chest, turning towards Celestina, "Once you finish your breakfast, the two of you should hit the road. It'll take you all day to get to the village... and neither of you want to be traveling in the dark."
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