ARTIZEA
THE SEA MIMICKED THE SKY IN A MASS OF BACK, ash fell like snow. Flames licked at the edges of her vision, consuming everything they touched. Buildings crumbled into heaps of rubble, their stone walls melting under the intensity of the heat. Screams echoed in the distance, faint and distorted, as if carried on the wind from another time.
Artizea looked down at her hands, only to see them drenched in blood. Her reflection shimmered in a pool of molten lava at her feet. She was not herself. Her dragon form loomed in the reflection. The mirror shifted abruptly. Flames engulfing the palace, her siblings' faces twisted in fear. Her mother's prized blue roses turned to ash. Her father raised his chains to bind her. She staggered back, her breath catching in her throat. The voice was hers, but it carried a raw, guttural edge—a sound both human and otherworldly.
The chains shattered, and her dragon form surged forward, its fury unchecked. The image blurred again, this time revealing her family broken and scattered. The throne room was reduced to rubble, the crown her father once wore lying crushed beneath her claws. The palace burned while her dragon form roared.
"Trust no one."
Artizea woke with a start, her body drenched in sweat, her heart hammering against her rib cage. She sat up in bed, gasping for air as the echoes of the dream lingered. Her hands trembled as they clutched the sheets, her mind racing with images of fire, destruction, and chains.
"What am I?" She whispered inaudibly into the quiet of her chamber.
It had been Eugene, she had asked first. But as usual, his answer had been vague. "There's nothing definitive about the dreams, Artizea," he had said, avoiding her eyes. "Just old myths and half-truths."
Artizea had not believed him. He was hiding something, they all were, she thought bitterly.
She had secretly tasked a scholar with finding the truth. A diligent woman who said she often assisted the second prince with archival work, scouring the royal library for any information that could explain the strange power stirring within her and maybe the things she was seeing.
A knock came at her door, interrupting her thoughts. "Your Grace," The scholar girl said, bowing low. "I have found something."
"What is it—" Artizea sprang up. Though she kept her expression as neutral as possible.
"A reference in one of the older texts, it is only a fragment, but it may pertain to your inquiry."
Artizea's heart leapt at the possibility of progress, "Good, meet me in the archives at midnight. And tell no one."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Just then, Arthur sped through the chamber doors, his jaw clenched upon hearing Sir James's words replayed in his mind.
Artizea looked up from the documents spread across her desk, then gave them to the scholar and said, "Thank you. You may go." The man bowed and scurried off, leaving the siblings to battle. "Arthur," she said flatly, "Back to not knocking? Or were you hoping to find something amiss?" not bothering to mask her irritation.
"You told the head front gate knightguard to keep quiet," he snapped, his voice cutting through the tense air.
"And?"
"—And you think that he actually would?!"His hands clenched into fists. "What if it was not me he swore loyalty to, huh? What if Father got hold of him?"
"He's sworn to me—" she began irritably.
"No!" Arthur snapped, cutting her off. "I trained him. Four years of my life. Side by side, just like I trained your entireknightguard—every last one of the six sworn to you. Do you know why? Because if they are to protect you, I need to know I can trust them. So yes—he's sworn to me. For you." His jaw tightened, "By the way, it would have been nice to know our little brother ran off into the bloody forest after your little secret expedition with the enemy—"
Artizea raised a brow, "Hey, Arthur, our brother ran off last night after our secret expedition with a member of our council. Happy? Or is there a point you are trying to prove?"
"Tizea, listen to me," he pressed his fingers against his temple, another growing headache. "He cannot be trusted!"
"Do you ever stop to think before accusing people?" Artizea said, crossing her arms.
"This isn't a hunch!" Arthur insisted, stepping closer. "Have you ever stopped to think why father is so furious, why he grounded us, it is so we do not go meeting the enemy at ungodly hours in the middle of the night and dragging our siblings to doom with us, and I cannot blame him this time, because this time he might just be right!"
Artizea's gaze sharpened, and her tone grew colder. "Rhyssand has been nothing but—"
"Spare me the bullshit." He scoffed, "You're fucking him. He could tell you he loved you, and you would believe it."
Artizea was silent.
Arthur ran his hands through his hair in frustration, "… Tizea! He is Dangerous," his voice rising. "He's using you, and you are so blinded by whatever celestial treats he is feeding you that no matter how many times I have stressed it to you, you do not seem to get it!"
"They do not eat—" she began.
"I do not give a shit what your boy toy eats, Artizea!" he spat.
Her eyes narrowed slowly. "Okay. Let's do this."
"Let's—" Arthur shot back.
"Rhyssand is dangerous?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Like Eric was dangerous?" Artizea shot back, her voice rising.
Arthur flinched, his jaw tightening.
"You trained him, did you not? You knew what he was capable of — and yet, you still kept your mouth shut. Because you were too afraid his death would be your fault, just to end up killing him anyway!"
"That is not fair."
"No," she shot back, "What is not fair is you deciding who I can and cannot trust, let alone sleep with—." Her eyes narrowed, "Maybe if you gave him a chance like you once gave Eric, you would see what I see."
"All you are is Red, Artizea!" Arthur snapped. "I do not give a shit who you sleep with— I give a shit when you are doing it on our walls for all the subjects to see. I mean—Are you crazy?"
"Oh, piss off, Arthur. Just because you choose to remain a virgin does not mean I have to pretend."
Arthur froze.
Her eyes narrowed. "You popped your cherry?"
"—We are not having this conversation."
"Who?"
"You know who."
"Before or after?" she inquired smugly.
"Before."
"Have you talked to her after?"
"No."
"Hypocrite!" Artizea exclaimed, "That is why you are so mad—it is because she does not wish shit to do with you after what you did!"
"Artizea…" Arthur gritted out, "I will fulfill my vow to you, so help me even if I have to break another, even if I have to tell Father."
"Why wait? He's standing right in front of me as we speak," She hissed.
Arthur froze, then sighed, his tone softening. "I know I have made mistakes. But this isn't about me. It is about protecting—"
"I can protect myself, Arthur," she cut him off, "I do not need you dragging up ghosts to justify why you think you might be right."
Arthur froze, the weight of her words striking him like a blow. His shoulders tensed, "I sacrificed more than you could ever understand that day." He turned to leave, only to stop.
"Maybe you should go see her," Artizea said softly. "Just in case."
Arthur inhaled and left the room, his steps echoing down the hallway.
Artizea stared at the ground, her chest tight with conflicting emotions. She wanted to dismiss Arthur's claims outright, but his urgency unsettled her. What if he's right? she thought. But she quickly pushed the thought aside, focusing on the task she had given herself and the bond she and Rhys had built. She could not believe he would betray her. She trusted him…
"You are wrong this time," Artizea mumbled aloud. She did not know if it was for her brother or the voice in the back of her head.
ARTHUR
Still fuming, Arthur made his way toward the eastern wing of the palace. He could feel his throat tightening, anotherattack..He needed to see her—to speak with someone who understood him in a way no one else did. He rounded the corner, nearly tripping over Elaine, who was crouched by the wall, fiddling with a hidden latch.
Elaine grinned up at him, her mischievous eyes sparkling. "What is the matter, big brother? You look like someone stole Excalibur."
Arthur sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Elaine, what are you doing up?"
"Helping you," she replied, she hummed in innocence while pressing the latch, and with a soft click, a small concealed door in the wall opened. "You wish to see Cesealia, do you not?"
Arthur blinked, "How did you—"
She cut him off. "I know everything that goes on in this palace, Arthur. You should know that by now."
Arthur blinked at Elaine's uncanny knowledge, her mischievous grin only making him more suspicious. "—Wait. weren't you just—"
"I sneak into the city to watch their plays, I even play in some," she beamed, "disguised,of course."
"Okay…well, if you know so much about everything in the palace, how did you not know what a brothel was?" he asked, his tone a mix of disbelief and accusation.
Elaine's grin widened, and she leaned casually against the wall, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. "Do you want my help or not, big brother?" she replied smoothly, completely unbothered by his question.
Arthur opened his mouth to press further, but stopped himself. He stared at her for a moment, then chuckled despite himself. "So this is how you always beat me in hide and seek?"
"Ten years in a row…and counting," Elaine quipped, motioning for him to follow. "The tunnels will get you to her without anyone seeing."
Arthur shook his head, stepping into the hidden doorway. Before the wall slid closed behind them. They moved through the dimly lit tunnels, and he could not help but marvel at how easily Elaine navigated them, her small frame darting ahead like a shadow. When they emerged on the other side, Elaine gave him a cheeky salute. To which he gave back.
"Thanks, Elaine."
"Do not mention it," she said, leaning casually against the wall. "Seriously, do not. I would hate for Father to know how many of these passages I have figured out." She turned back to the door through which they came, then looked over her shoulder, "Have fun…." she whispered with a smirk, before disappearing back into the tunnels.
A small smile tugged at Arthur's lips. He shook his head, slipping quietly toward the stables, then made his way into the eastern village; his heart was pounding while he approached the familiar door. He knew this was the best place to find her when she was waiting on stock. He knocked softly, and after a moment, the door creaked open.
Cesealia stood there, her let-down curls framing her sharp, beautiful face, her expression caught between surprise and irritation. "Arthur," she said, her tone cold.
"I needed to see you," he said, his voice earnest.
"As Arthur or My Prince?"
"Which do you hate more?"
"Both."
Arthur flinched.
"Why are you here?" She said, "Especially after… everything."
"I know." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know you are angry. You have every right to be."
Her eyes flashed, her voice rising. "Angry? You beheaded my brother, Arthur. What do you expect me to feel—"
"I had no choice," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "Long ago, I made a vow—"
"I know all about your Vow," she finished bitterly. "Eric told me a thousand times. He also told me how you wouldn't let him take one for you or me."
"Because loyalty isn't a gift when it costs you everything." He stepped closer, his eyes soft with guilt. "It is a burden meant only for me. I could not stomach watching him be torn from you, because of me, I know how selfish and hypocritical that makes me. But I made a vow to him to protect you should death befall him years ago, and I will do so until my dying breath. I just wanted to see you to explain, even if it does not change anything."
Cesealia turned away, her hands gripping the edge of the desk. "What is there to explain? You chose your family. Your duty. And I lost mine."
"He was my family too," Arthur said, his voice low. "I am your family too…"
"You do not execute family, you do not hurtyour family."
"I wish I could go back and fix it all, CeCe," Arthur's voice rose, trying to catch a breath. "I still care about you, more than I have a right to—"
Cesealia froze, her shoulders tense. Slowly, she turned to face him, "Why are you here, Arthur? What do you wish from me?"
Arthur thought about it for a moment and could not give her an answer worthy enough. "You are right," he said simply, his voice steady despite the tremor in his hands. "I will go", turning to leave.
Cesealia stared at him, her expression faltering. Then, without a word, she closed the distance between them, her lips crashing against his in a kiss that was equal parts anger and longing. He responded instantly, his hands finding her waist, and pulled her closer. He was still catching his breath.
"I have something to show you," Cesealia murmured.
Arthur's brows drew together as she pulled him inside, pressing a sealed letter into his hands. His name was written across it in a hand he knew.
"I found this," she said softly. "And another with my name… tucked inside his helmet. I read mine…and I may have read yours too."
Arthur swallowed hard, fingers trembling slightly as he unfolded the paper.His eyes blurred as he reached the end. He closed the letter slowly, mist flooding his vision.
"He told me to forgive you. Your sister too…"
Arthur's head lifted, eyes narrowing. "My sister came to see you?"
Cesealia nodded softly. After a pause, she asked, almost in a whisper, "Do you… wish to go somewhere?"
"Where?"
The place she led him to was nothing like the quiet chamber they had left behind. It roared with music so deep it seemed to convince one's very heartbeat it was wrong, thrumming against the ribs like a second pulse. The people were singing, laughing, dancing, and plates of food were carried past in an endless circle. The brothel was not nearly as bad as it was made to be…
Cesealia kept close to his side, but Arthur noticed the stiffness in her shoulders, the way her eyes flicked between the floor and the women at the edges of the building, faces he recognized. "What I would give to be his…" then Cesealia's voice,"I am not the Princess in your history books…" His grip loosened on her hand and tightened around her waist instead, pulling her closer to him as they moved through the dancing people, guiding her to the heart of the floor.
For a time, they danced,most undignified. And it was fun—just Arthur, nothing more. Except when just Arthur shot daggers at the men, reminding them that the first prince's still lingered beneath the surface.
Cesealia's lips brushed his ear. "Wait here," she whispered.
Arthur turned to protest, "Cece, wait— do not leave me here with—" but she was already gone, slipping behind a side curtain and vanished. All while he endured the immediate swarm of admirers with thin lips and cracking patience. Their voices blurred the instant his eyes dilated on the spot where she had disappeared, only now…
"Arthur…"
The sound of his name made him eager to test if one could ascend to Celestia.The gathered parted enough for him to see her more clearly. Cesealia stood there dressed like a pirate, a sailor's most sinful dream—dark leather hugging her curves, a blue sash slung low on her hips, her hair tumbled in loose waves over her shoulders, and a yellow feather to complement her hat.
Fuck me, she made it work. He thought.
Cesealia took a step toward him, closing the distance. "Well? What do you think?"
What did he think? Arthur's jaw clenched upon hearing the whistles and shouts of the men nearby, who told him exactly what they thought. Before she could reply, he caught her hand and swept her back into the music.
"I know, you are the most beautiful woman in this room…" he said softly. "And I should like the realm to know who she belongs to it."
The room spun in a blur of murmurs as they moved across the floor; their laughter, though buoyant, was not able to drown the voices circling them, which were far from kind.
"It seems the Prince did take a prostitute after all."
"A baron one, at that."
Cesealia's smile faltered at the sharp glares from the whispering women who had long dreamed of standing where she stood. She thought Arthur had not noticed, and yet the curl at the corner of his mouth said otherwise. With a sudden shift, he spun her, not into another step, but into his arms, effortlessly sweeping her off her feet bridal style, like she weighed nothing. Cesealia yelped, causing erupted cheer and scandalized gasps as he lowered his head, his lips finding hers with a searing kiss, claiming her before the entire room.
Faded voices erupted, screaming their outrage, "Take her home!"
When the distractions ended, he did not release her. Instead, he called over the barkeep and tossed a coin pouch onto the counter. "For the costume," he said.
"W-why—" Cesealia stuttered.
He leaned in, "We shall put it to better use later."
Cesealia flushed in an instant, then the tavern door swung shut behind them, leaving the room buzzed with whispers.
One jeweled woman broke first, "If only my mother had half a fucking brain as that baron whore, I could have been a fucking Princess—" she hissed. shunning away what would have been another client.
Another lady gave a brittle laugh, "But you just did what she did…"
"And What's that?"
"Absolutely fucking nothing," she chuckled.
GILGAMESH
From the height of the king's chambers, one could see everything.
Gilgamesh stood on the balcony, swirling the deep crimson liquid lazily, his sharp eyes glowed slightly while scanning the palace grounds. One of his replacement hobbies. A flicker of movement caught his attention. He turned slightly, spotting the faint glow of a lantern bobbing through the shadows near the old servant tunnels. He recognized his youngest, her small figure darting skillfully, and a taller figure waiting near the hedgerow.
"Elaine," he muttered to himself, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Up to something, as usual." He leaned forward, watching as his son slipped away from the palace, the lantern light disappearing into the night. His grin widened, taking a slow sip of his wine, curiosity piqued. "And where does this one think they're going this time?" he watched the faint lantern light disappear into the port. He took another sip of his wine, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. He chuckled softly, swirling the wine in his goblet, taking another slow sip. "They all think they're so clever," he murmured to himself, "Sneaking about, believing they're smarter than me—their father—tsk" He swirled the wine in his goblet, laughter deep and low at the thought of punishments that would never truly be carried out.
"Gil…" came a soft, drowsy murmur.
He turned and nearly choked on his wine.
Arthuria stood in the doorway of the balcony, her hair tousled from sleep, draped in nothing but a sheer fabric that momentarily caught the glow of the lamp, leaving little to his imagination. Half-asleep, half-seductress, she leaned against the frame, eyes heavy-lidded, lips curved in the faintest smile. "Quit brooding and put out the lamp," she whispered, her voice husky with sleep.
Gilgamesh coughed into his fist, "But, my love—"
Art6hruia sighed. then padded barefoot toward him, the sheer fabric swaying with each step. "Let them be children…" she breathed, brushing past him to lean over the balcony rail. "It's only a matter of time before they learn we are always three steps ahead."
Gilgamesh sighed, finally setting his goblet down, trailing after her with a look of a betwitched lost pup, he reached for her, but Arthuria stopped him with a hand pressed lightly to his chest. He frowned, half growl, half plea. "You'll be the death of me, woman."
"Not before your vintage wine consumption…" Arthuria's half-smile deepened, "Do not forget the lamp."
The king grumbled upon reaching back to snuff the light. Leaving the palace to its secrets.
ARTIZEA
The castle was quiet as Artizea slipped out of her chambers and made her way to the library. The young scholar was already there, clutching a weathered tome bound in cracked leather.
"Your Grace—" The scholar said, bowing again upon entering. "Thank you for the opportunity—"
"Show me what you found, please…" Artizea said quietly.
The scholar opened the tome to a faded page, pointing to a passage written in a language she vaguely recognized from her studies.
"This text speaks of your descendants, Your Highness, 'Awakening.' It mentions the name Tiamat."
Artizea's breath caught. "What does it say about her?"
"Not much survives, your grace. They were was a fire many years ago…Most of the past is ashes, but it speaks of the beginning. I tried to match up the torn pieces and think I figured out at least one sentence."
"What does it say?"
The scholar hesitated. "It speaks of a goddess named Timat, whose name upon transformation was then known as the beast of destruction."
Artizea leaned back, her mind spinning. "And this… Tiamat… What was she like…after?"
The scholar lowered her voice, as if afraid the words themselves might summon her. "A force of destruction so great that the gods themselves united to bring her down."
Artizea's heart was pounding. Ba-dum, Ba-dum. "Do you know what is happening to me?"
The scholar hesitated in closer, lowering her voice into a whisper, "There is someone who might. A Truth Sayer, they call them. The second Prince said they walk the highlands, revealing the answers others dare not speak."
The air seemed to grow heavier, and Artizea took a deep, steadying breath. "I think I saw her before," she said finally. "Thank you, you may go and speak nothing of this…?"
The scholar bowed, "Jean, Your highness,"