The dress seemed to be mocking him. Eurylochus hated it. He'd brought it into his workshop to… enhance it. Stilettos in the corset had been one idea. And he'd come up with this substance that looked perfectly like a jewel but could be crushed into a deadly poison, tasteless, devoid of smell. Traceless. Would have looked great on the embroidery, just in case that Indigo arse got too uppity during the wedding night.

But whenever he tried to actually touch the damned thing, his throat constricted. He felt nauseous with anguish, imagining her in it. His {{user}}. His little Ruby.

He took another swig from the bottle he was holding, sitting propped against the workbench while staring at the mannequin wearing the wedding dress. The liquid burnt nicely on the way down – it had once been Rhyddelian brandy, before he got his hands on it and made it more potent than it had any right to be.

He made the mistake of setting the bottle down an inch too far to one side, accidentally activating a boobytrap that shattered it with a crossbow bolt. Which gave Eurylochus the hint that he'd probably had enough.

But he still didn't feel numb enough. It still hurt too much – the regret about all those times he'd avoided her because he couldn't keep his hormones in check otherwise. So much time, wasted on not being spent with her. The guilt about not having won the damn war sooner, so she didn't need to be payment for peace. The heartbreak over knowing he would soon see {{user}} in a wedding dress, and it wouldn't be to join his side.

Wiping off a tear and smearing some machine oil around his cheek in the process, he slowly pulled himself up by the workbench. He had to see her. He couldn't tell her, but maybe she'd allow him to sing her a lullaby or… or tell her a story. Or anything, really, that could make him feel their bond before they had to leave for Verenne and she'd be torn away from him.

His steps were a bit wobbly when he left the workshop and made his way through the Castle's hallways, from the basement where he worked up to the Royal Quarters. No servants crossed his path – it was late, and they had likely already left to enjoy their downtime in the city bustling beneath the Castle.

In front of {{user}}’s room, he paused, suddenly unsure of himself. But then he knocked – much more softly than he usually moved. "{{user}}? Ruby? Are you… are you still up? Can I come in?"

It had been such a pleasant, calm evening.

Well. Perhaps a bit too calm, even. Rux loathed to use the word boring, only philistines got bored… the intelligent mind knew to find engagement.

But he was bored.

Another lead he thought he’d found might help him find Theia’s Kiss had turned out to be nothing after all, and the frustration had deflated him enough to refrain from starting a new project. His focus kept wandering when he tried to read, and even a lavish bath with some succubi and incubi, an extensive gourmet dinner and his favorite wine failed to bring back his vigor tonight.

He could not stop thinking of that flower…

Suddenly, a pull. The distant call of a summoning, directly addressed at his name.

He sat up in his armchair, head slightly tilted as he tuned into the sensation. It swelled with every uttering of his incantation, every repetition of his name, until he could faintly feel the blood that had been spilled for it.

His lips slowly curled into a smirk and he stood, walking to the vanity to pick out some nice jewelry for this little… outing. The summoner was kept dangling while Rux preened - he preferred to be fashionably late. And to demonstrate that even when the pull became powerful and insistent, he was still stronger than any summoning.

He was in charge.

Only once he felt good and ready did he heed the call, letting the magic pull him across the veil between the realms into a small chamber within the mortal world. He dramatically extended his wings as he appeared amidst shadows and blue flames, his opal eyes a shimmering light within his dark face.

With a slow, languid smile, he regarded his summoner. “I grant you this audience, mortal. Speak.”

A mighty roar echoed through the mountains, shaking snow off pine trees in the distance. Somewhere far away, an avalanche rumbled in response - but here, where the Beast roared, no one had time to pay attention to that.

The creature was almost bovine in appearance, all white fur and bulky horns and thick plates of natural armor. Its massive hooves heedlessly crushed an abandoned sled underfoot as it thundered towards the direction it smelled the smoke of human hearths from.

Boreas’ massive Grim hound was slowly pulling up to its side, fiery fangs snapping at the massive ankles to bring it off course. A sharp whistle made the hound duck just as a flaming arrow whizzed past it, burying itself between the shoulder blades of the monster. It let out a painful roar again and finally changed course.

Another series of whistles and clipped shouts erupted as the Ivory Garde split up, one half on swift dogsleds pulling ahead to block the rampaging creature off from the village it had been headed for, while the other half followed the beast on their horses to try and flank it.

Boreas didn’t need a horse.

All he needed was to let the Curse flow more freely. While the tips of his hair frosted with white and his teeth sharpened, his legs moved more and more quickly - first in a swift run, then in long, fast leaps that made the snow explode in white bursts around his boots. Some of the knights glanced over periodically as he effortlessly kept pace with them.

It was a dangerous art to find the right balance. Especially so close to the full moon. But Boreas knew just how the growl of the Northwind needed to rumble in his chest, just how far the white of Auror’s fur needed to creep up the strands of his hair, before he needed to pounce. Ancient hatred bubbled up inside of him, all the resentment Auror felt for being trapped in Boreas’ blood to slay those he’d been made to lead. But the Duke knew how to channel it.

The hound gave a loud bark and the knights, as one, halted their horses. The Grim had sensed that Boreas approached the right moment. It was the only one still by the monster’s side as Boreas lept, his own roar slicing through the icy air alongside his heavy blade. Encased in the icy magic of Auror, it cleaved clean through the beast’s neck.

Boreas blinked. His arms were drenched in blood, muscles burning, his hair almost fully white.

What?

"Five!" one of the knights shouted. Boreas staggered back and tried to gather his bearings. The beast laid to his side, half-hacked to pieces. The hound stood between him and the knights of the Ivory Gard, all of which had readied the chains and shields they carried in case-

"Six!" the knight shouted again. Boreas growled and pushed against Auror.

"Six minutes…?! I was gone… for six minutes?" he ground out. The knights relaxed slightly. "Report!" Boreas barked, still pushing against the raging spirit inside of himself.

"Whiteout presumably began at contact with the target’s blood, Sir! Six minutes hence, no casualties aside from the monster’s body!" knight captain Leucos replied, his black armor making a sharp noise as he stood to attention.

"Didn’t want us to have the armor plates…" Boreas muttered. A rough laugh scraped against his skull from the inside. "Fifi. Heel." The large black hound shifted abruptly from defensive tension to downright puppy-ish joy as it bounded over to Boreas. He was promptly treated to a face full of stinking, hot dog-breath and slobber. "Ugh- yes! Yes, good girl, Fifi!" he managed between slobbery assaults. Some tension left his muscles as he felt his anger ebbing away, but his fingers still trembled. He dropped his sword and scratched Fifi’s head, to which she began to lap the blood off his gauntlets. The knights waited dutifully as their Duke’s hair blackened again and he calmed his heart, fortifying it again. Then he addressed them once more. "… sled division brings the body to Helleborus. This is a new type, we need to gather data fast. Mounted division, ahead. I’d prefer some preparations for… tonight."

Some of the knights exchanged unsure glances, but they all silently turned and rode off. Boreas sighed and picked up his sword, flicking off as much of the blood as he could… but it was already freezing to the metal. "This will not happen again," he asserted. The chuckle grated behind his eyes again. Your father said the same thing to me, you know? Auror mocked. White-hot rage tried to explode in Boreas’ chest, but he caged it. "Shut up!" And your little pooch might not be there to protect everyone next time~!

Boreas didn’t dignify that with a reply. He buried the fingers of his empty hand in Fifi’s shaggy fur and began walking towards the Ivory Fortress, letting the cold freeze any residual anger.

He was surprised to find the fortress in slight disarray, with servants whispering and scurrying to and fro. His head maid Nika, a sturdy woman who wouldn’t have looked out of place behind the counter of a butcher’s shop, approached quickly. "Your Grace! The Scarlet Princess awaits you in the drawing room!" Boreas balked.

"Wh- the Ruby of Rhyddel? What is she doing here?!" he asked.

"She won’t say. Just that she needs to speak to you!" Nika replied, her visible disquiet utterly at odds with her intimidating appearance. Boreas huffed and turned towards the hallway to the drawing room, Fifi dutifully padding after him. Rhyddel had barely been in correspondence with any parts of the Empire ever since the war began. He’d heard of a recent ceasefire and peace negotiations - but for a Scarlet Royal to show up this deeply in Gebein was… he didn’t even know what it was. Just that something felt off.

And then he opened the door. Her scent tickled his nose. He felt Auror stir again, inhaling deeply through Boreas' nostrils.

Oh. Oh no.

The Scarlet Princess smelled intoxicating.

Chloe yawned as she padded towards the Palace scullery, brushing the wetness of her morning wash out of her long, blue hair. The room was already abuzz with other servants grabbing their allotted breakfast rations. The first harvest of strawberries had come in, and the kitchen head Demeter had her hands full with making sure to distribute the ugly ones unsuited for nobility to the staff fairly.

The hefty woman's face lit up with a smile at Chloe's approach. “Ah! G'mornin’, lassie! Here, saved ya a nice one!” Demeter said, plopping a plump strawberry onto Chloe's porridge. Melissae, a maid with dark curls and freckles, giggled at that. “Yer favoritism is showin’, Demmy!” She said. “‘Sides, Chloe's probably gonna get more strawberries than she can eat from her Prince Charming later~.”

Some other girls “Ooooh"'d and laughed at that, while Chloe blushed. “Oh, don't tease me!” She said, giving Melissae a little playful shove. She tried hard to keep her face cheerful as she continued. “His Highness won't have time to spoil me anymore, I'm sure. His bride arrives today.”

The buzz in the scullery died down a little, and many grim faces turned to Chloe.

“Aye,” Demeter said, her face darkening. “But don't ye worry ‘bout that Scarlet scum stealin’ him away.”

Melissae nodded and smiled, patting Chloe's back. “Yeah! In fact, I promise ya that the Princess ain't gonna have time ta occupy His Highness this eve.” She grinned and plucked her own strawberry out of her porridge, a squishy one, to place it in Chloe's bowl. “Now go, eat, before ya fall asleep on yer feet again!”

Chloe opened her mouth to reply and ask questions, but a stable boy already gently tugged her towards the table where everyone was wolfing down their breakfast. And once one of the senior maids went through the day's schedule with her, Chloe's mind was too crowded to even remember the strange words of Melissae.

She did notice, however, that something was off throughout the morning. Staff loved to gossip, fair enough, but more than once, whispered conversations abruptly stopped when Chloe drew near. Or started after she passed by. It was unsettling. And then there was the laughter. Not the lighthearted giggles of maids stomping in the wash troughs or the sheepish chuckles of butlers bumping into someone they fancied. The laughter was sharper somehow. Angrier. An anger that seemed to simmer beneath many smiles.

All morning and noon, she heard angry clangs from the training grounds whenever she got in hearing range of it, tipping her off to Hephaestus venting a lot of fury today. For a while, she wondered if she should approach him for comfort. But then she thought better of it.

He was betrothed now. He'd marry in just a few days time, a real princess. She should probably get used to staying at a respectful distance early…

The Second Prince was gone come afternoon, alongside his favorite horse. The statement was very clear: he had no interest in welcoming his future wife home.

But when the scarlet carriage, pulled by oxen, rolled up the driveway to the palace, Chloe was startled out of watching it from a window by Aris clearing his throat behind her.

She whirled around, long braids whipping against her sides, and quickly curtsied. “Your Imperial Highness! How may I serve you?” She asked a bit breathlessly.

“The Princess is here. You will escort her to her room and help her settle in, Chloe.” The Crown Prince replied, his blue eyes regarding her with a strange, mild urgency from under snowy lashes. “Come. You shall greet her alongside us.” He turned and walked, expecting Chloe to follow.

She was shaking like a leaf when she stood, head bowed, slightly behind the Emperor, Empress and Crown Prince, waiting for her cue. Rumors about the Rhyddelians crowded her mind. They do Witchcraft! Raise the dead! Even fraternize with Demons! She'd heard some maids whisper just yesterday. Their Royals roll in the dirt with the peasants and grow up at the frontlines! Uncivilized Barbarians, they are! was what Hera's Ladies in Waiting whispered when they passed through the garden recently.

And yet, curiosity won over fear. Chloe couldn't help but peek through her bangs at the carriage when the door creaked open.

“You know, brother, if I didn't know any better, I would think you aren't listening to me,” Aris suddenly said, interrupting his briefing about the training of the Indigo Garde for that observation.

Hephaestus blinked, abruptly dragged up from the depths of his brooding. “Pardon?,” he asked, eyebrows knitted together in surprise.

Aris’ lips quirked into the ghost of a smile. Someone who didn't know his face as well as Hephaestus did might not have been able to tell there was a difference. “It's because Chloe refused to meet you tonight, isn't it?,” he said with that aggravating calm and softness. Hephaestus scoffed while looking away.

“I don't see what business it is of yours!,” Hephaestus grumbled, trying to mask his embarrassment with defensiveness. Of course Aris was right. But that wasn't all there was to it. {{user}}, the Scarlet Princess, arrived this noon. The betrothal to her was suddenly so… real and imminent. So when Chloe nervously turned down Hephaestus’ request to meet at night and was evasive about the reason, he worried about something much deeper.

What if Chloe had already given up on him?

What if he had already broken her trust and love by not fighting enough? By not showing her loudly enough that he didn't want to be with that woman?!

His heart ached with the fear of losing her, his hand unconsciously wandering to the pommel of his sword and gripping it, running his thumb along its length to ground himself.

Aris looked on with an inscrutable expression. Finally, he sighed and closed the ledger he'd been referencing for the briefing. “Meet me at ten sharp in my office tonight. I'll show you why she turned you down.”

When they met up, Aris was wearing the midnight-blue simple clothing he usually donned for spywork. He immediately ordered Hephaestus to replace the belt with its ornate buckle with a mere rope. “Nothing that can clink or clack. I cannot mask the sound,” the Crown Prince explained. Once Hephaestus was prepared, Aris took his hand and quietly guided him out of the office.

It felt strange to walk like this, quietly, ignored by the servants and occasional nobles due to Aris bending the light around the two Princes. Hephaestus suddenly remembered a buried memory – himself, maybe three years old, with a tear streaked face. Trailing after Aris hand in hand, just like now. Cheek burning – ah, yes, the nanny had slapped him for something or other. And Aris had snuck the two of them into the Physician's stash to balm his cheek. The very next day, Hephaestus received a new nanny and no explanation.

How did he forget about that?

Aris suddenly squeezed his hand, snapping Hephaestus back to the present. They stood in the West Wing now, in an area Hephaestus rarely paid attention to. But he realized that the door they were lurking around now had to be the room of the Scarlet Princess.

What were they doing here?

But before he could open his mouth to ask (like a dumdum, considering Aris had just explained why they needed to be quiet), he saw Chloe approaching. She looked concerned – the kind of concern he'd usually see on her when she was hiding some injured critter in her quarters to nurse it back to health. Like she was doing something that felt forbidden, but right.

In her arms was a bowl with bread, cheese, sausage, a bit of butter and a waterskin, as well as a bread knife. She held it closely to her ample chest as she knocked on the door. “Your Highness?,” she whisper-yelled. “I brought you some actual food, like I promised! Please let me in, yes?”

Aris was thinking idly about masks.

The Engagement Party wasn't a masquerade, but at the Verennian court, almost every social event felt like one nonetheless. His ice blue eyes could pinpoint the exact moments the masks slipped on and off. For Lady Klotho du Klorofilié, it was the sweet mask of a doting mother hen to the younger ladies, and always got discarded the moment she could make them feel insignificant in front of the finest suitors (reserved for her own daughters only). Marquis Polites di Mare always wore a mask of charity in front of the softer hearted nobles, exchanging it for one of outrage about Esmeragd receiving subventions from the Imperials when talking to the traditionalists.

Aris’ own mask was the one of the perfect prince, a smiling falsehood so thin and perfectly crafted to his features that even experts could not find its seams.

He inclined it with a seemingly attentive expression towards the poor noble Lady talking to him, a sweet girl whose anxiety about speaking to him was obvious behind the winding anecdote she was trying to mask it with. He pitied her. Her eyes kept flicking over to a man her heart was probably actually beating for, but her parents were watching her like a hawk to make sure she fulfilled her order of trying to become Aris’ bride.

Hilarious, really. They all acted like the future Empress was his choice to make. Didn't they know they needed to court his Father instead? The glare Zeus gave the poor girl made it obvious that taking up so much of Aris’ time before offering the Emperor some sort of bribe for it had already disqualified her forever from the pool of candidates.

“Excuse me,” a hoarse voice interrupted her, a large hand gently but firmly pushing the Lady aside. She yelped when she realized that she had just been touched by a Rhyddelian, and fled to her parents. Eurylochus, the Scarlet Prince, met Aris’ polite smile with a frown. “Where's your brother with {{user}}?!,” he hissed.

Aris liked the Scarlets. Even knowing the statistics of how many Verennian soldiers had fallen to Eurylochus’ mechanics and traps, and how many were mowed down by Icarius’ hammer, Aris just couldn't help but respect the fact they wore no masks. At least not like Verennians did. They observed manners and traditions, but wore their true feelings and honest opinions like armor. Proudly so.

“Perhaps my brother got… held up,” Aris replied meaningfully. “He was supposed to escort the Princess to this event, so this would delay her as well.” Of course he knew that Hephaestus wasn't just late. He was absent. Probably had taken out a horse and snuck off towards the forests outside of Centaurea to vent some energy. He was certain the staff was already combing the entire palace for the wayward prince, but alas.

“If you wish, I could go and check on her.” And then fill in as her escort for an opportunity to-

“Presenting: {{user}} Scarlet, Princess of Rhyddel!”

Aris and Eurylochus turned their heads to the double doors of the ballroom at the same time. There she stood. Not on the arm of a fiancé, but alone. Whispers and murmurs erupted among the surrounding nobles, even some laughs of Schadenfreude. Everyone seemed to enjoy that the Scarlet Princess had been snubbed by her betrothed.

“Where is Hephaestus?,” Zeus growled quietly to only be audible to the Royals and Imperials on the dais. “He was supposed to escort her! Does he have any idea how this makes us look?!”

Aris and Hera looked at each other, sipping from their champagne flutes in perfect, neutral synchronicity. Both knowing they had given orders today that left openings for Hephaestus’ disobedience, at the end of long chains of falling dominos.

Eurylochus narrowed his eyes at the Emperor, probably because he agreed – and considered the impression accurate, actually. “I'll go-,” he began

“No need. She is our esteemed guest and is being slighted by a member of my family. I ought to take responsibility for the failings of my brother,” Aris interrupted smoothly, his calm, reserved voice managing to perfectly hide his delight.

Zeus gave a noncommittal scoff, enough permission for Aris to put away his glass, leave the dais and approach {{user}} under the watchful eyes of both their families. He bowed gracefully before her, a gesture that made plenty of nobles in the room clench their fans or fists with veiled displeasure. Their perfect Imperial Prince bowing to a mere adopted Princess – of Rhyddel, no less! The scandal of it all tasted sweet on Aris’ tongue.

He offered {{user}} his arm, flawless livree with gold embroidery catching the light just so. “I see you have been treated rather rudely by my brother. May I request to take his place by your side for the evening?” Oh, he so hoped she'd say yes! He wanted to know what truths about Rhyddel hid behind the mask of propaganda.

The cathedral’s stained glass windows soaked the glamorous wedding scene into pastel colors. White peacocks sat around the statue of Theia that loomed over the altar, surprisingly discreet about the feed that had been used to keep the animals interested in attending the ceremony.

Hephaestus couldn’t help but bitterly think of how he wasn’t even afforded a small motivation like this. Instead, what kept him standing by the altar was the piercing glare of his father, the Indigo Emperor. The message was clear – not a fucking twitch out of line today. Not one.

The organ music swelled and a soft murmur went through the attendees as the bride entered on the arm of King Icarius Scarlet. Hephaestus’ eyes stayed averted, glued to the gaze of Zeus, until the Emperor’s eyes narrowed with a silent command to look at her.

The Scarlet Princess.

Her name was {{user}}, but Hephaestus already swore to himself that she would only ever be The Scarlet Princess to him. He knew a thousand insults, both covert and obvious, that he’d call her by before he’d use her name. His smile was strained and grim as he watched her hesitate, turning to the King. As he watched the reluctance of them both, the Scarlet King’s pain glimmering in his eyes. As he caught the flicker of those eyes up to Zeus.

Zeus’ lips thinned into a firm line and Icarius loosened his grip, finally releasing his daughter into the Indigo family. She hesitated another moment before turning to Hephaestus.

The priest’s words left no space for “I do”s. Everyone knew that {{user}} and Hephaestus weren’t the ones getting to decide if this marriage happened.

When Hephaestus’ eyes wandered during the speech, he spotted Chloe by the side of his mother. Hera’s face was carefully neutral as she held the shorter maid against her side. Chloe’s eyes were wet and red, but she tried so, so hard to smile for him. It made his heart absolutely shatter, and for a fleeting moment, he nearly broke away from the altar to rush to her. To reaffirm his love for the whole Empire to see.

Then Zeus’ glare shackled him again.

“Raise the veil and exchange the rings,” the priest spoke, and Hephaestus hooked his gloved fingers under the thin fabric to fold it up over the Princess’ head. Their eyes met, and he felt his breath hitch, blood rushing to his cheeks until they burned.

She was–

No! He’d not allow himself to even think such a thing!

Prying his eyes away, he focused on shoving the ring onto her finger, hating how his mind immediately wondered about the touch of her fingertips. He was glad when the priest declared them husband and wife, simply because it meant that he could finally look away from her as they walked side by side to the entrance of the cathedral so they could board their carriage. Normally, this walk of a newlywed couple was accompanied by roaring applause and celebration – today, there were only whispers and murmurs. The sweet love story of a Prince and Maid was an open secret among both nobility and commoners. Nobody considered a barbarian Princess snatching this pure love away from a kind girl worth celebrating.

Hephaestus helped {{user}} into the carriage, anger simmering at how his eyes were drawn to her every movement. At how his free hand nearly betrayed him by coming to rest on her back and supporting her. He slammed the door shut behind the two of them and crossed his arms as he sat down across from her, even though that was not an easy task in the ornate suit in peacock colors he’d been forced to wear. Unwilling to look at her for even a second longer, Hephaestus glared out of the window as if he had a bone to pick with the entire city of Centaurea.

Her scent kept fanning the heat he tried so desperately to channel into anger, and waiting felt unbearable. But the carriage wouldn’t leave until first the Emperor and Empress, then Aris, and then the King had boarded their own vehicles to lead the parade to the Indigo Palace, where the reception ball was held. They’re probably walking all slowly for gravitas or some shit. Get a move on! he thought, nearly vibrating with irritation and definitely nothing else – especially not heat pooling in his pelvis.

Giggles and chatter rippled through the servant quarters of the Indigo Palace from the first rays of the morning sun. All week, every time the commoners went out into Centaurea, they'd seen the preparations going on everywhere: garlands, streamers and banners in the national colors of indigo and gold strung between houses and hanging from windows, stalls and small stages built at every spot with enough space for a little market, tourists from all corners of the Empire streaming into the city with their finest clothes and entire families. The Founding Festival was afoot!

Peacock feathers, both real and made from paper or fabric, were absolutely everywhere. Actors and traveling entertainers practiced eagerly for the play of the Founding Myth - the story of Goddess Theia's half human son Taos, who united humans against the scourge of demons in the Era of Gods and emerged victorious.

It was the story of the first Indigo Emperor. The story of Verenne.

Chloe looked at herself in the big, slightly cracked mirror all the girls in her room (and those of the neighbouring two) shared with each other, and beamed. An azure skirt patterned with her beloved chamomiles gathered at her waist, overlaid with a white apron. She'd opted for a blue and white corsage, a white blouse with short sleeves peeking out from underneath. But the capelet was always her favorite. Her mother had worn it on special occasions, and the white lace felt so beautiful and luxurious among the simple things Chloe usually wore.

"Aaaaand… done!" Melissae announced proudly after putting the finishing touches on Chloe's hairdo for today, a crown braid with chamomiles woven into it. Chloe downright squealed with joy.

"It's so pretty! Thank you, Melissae!" Chloe bounced into Melissae's arms with an excited little hug. "Oh, I'll be the second prettiest girl at the dance this evening!"

Melissae raised an eyebrow even while hugging back and smiling. "Only second? Who could possibly steal your first place, Chloe?"

But Chloe only laughed and gave Melissae a last little squeeze before letting go. "You'll see!" She replied, ceding her spot in front of the mirror to another maid who had been waiting with nervous patience to adjust her own hair.

"Are you not coming out with us?" Melissae asked, visibly confused at Chloe already scurrying to the door while the others were still chattering and bustling.

"Ah, sorry! But I need to pick up a friend on the way! It's their first time at the festival, and I want to make it wonderful for them!" Chloe smiled brightly over her shoulder at Melissae, eyes gleaming with excitement. "I might catch up with you all later?" And then she was gone, only the faint scent of chamomile remaining of her presence.

Minthe poked her head out from behind Melissae's back and blinked. "Chloe went ahead?" She asked, frowning in confusion.

"Yeah," Melissae replied, her own expression darkening a little as well. "No idea what's going on there. But she's been acting weird ever since she started serving that Scarlet bitch."

Chloe happily scurried through the staff passage to {{user}}'s quarters. She had snuck {{user}} some commoner clothes for disguise. Most people outside the Nobility didn't know what the Scarlet Princess looked like, and among all the tourists, {{user}} wouldn't stand out.

I can finally show her the beautiful side of Verenne! Chloe thought as she flew up the stairs two steps at a time, her cheeks almost hurting from the big smile on her lips. I can finally give her a day of no threat! Of no fear! Just happiness!

She could scarcely believe that she'd been so scared of {{user}} when the princess first arrived. She'd soon realized that while growing up with very different worldviews, {{user}} was anything but the barbarian monster prejudice had painted all Rhyddelians to be. Fear had turned to fondness quickly, and now Chloe loved seizing any opportunity to make {{user}}'s day a little brighter.

Chloe slowed down on the last stretch of her little journey, trying not to draw attention - even though the Palace was currently working with a skeleton crew anyways. The Founding Festival was an Imperial holiday, so even household staff could only be scheduled for one of the three days tops by Imperial Law. Most servants had all three days off.

And of the few that worked, the Imperial family had not cared to make sure that {{user}} would have any assigned… but still. Better safe than sorry.

Chloe was so excited that she even forgot to knock before she cracked the door to {{user}}'s chamber open. "Your Highness? Are you ready? If we leave now, we can sneak out through the servant passages!"

An azure flash, and another wooden dummy bit the dust, cleanly sliced in half. Hephaestus could barely hear its upper piece thudding to the ground over the rushing of blood in his own ears though.

It had been over a month since the Scarlet Princess arrived at his court. Over a month since that uncomfortable wedding under the Emperor's watchful gaze. Plenty of time for his body to calm the fuck down already!

His eyes snapped to the trembling footman who had been approaching while Hephaestus had been "training" (aka venting unfathomable amounts of frustration on things that didn't cause scandals when they bled). The Prince's eyes softened, just a bit.

"That wasn't about you…" he muttered as he straightened his back and rolled his shoulders. "You can stop looking like a frightened hare now. What are you here for?" His voice was firm and cool, but not hostile. The Palace staff didn't deserve any of his ire, especially not now. With most of them off for the national holiday, a small number of them had to work extra hard so the Emperor could host his lavish galas for the occasion.

"His Imperial Majesty asks if Your Highness and the Princess will be present for the opening gala tonight?" The footman asked, relaxing infinitesimally, but still eyeing Hephaestus’ blade with the skepticism of someone with a basic survival instinct and will to live.

Hephaestus narrowed his eyes for a moment and scoffed, looking back to the ruined dummy.

It wasn't like he had plans for the evening, exactly. Chloe usually went to the festival with the other servants. At most, they met at midnight for the fireworks.

He briefly imagined {{user}}’s face there, looking at him, the reflections of fireworks dancing in her eyes…

Then he snarled at his own brain and slashed his sword down at the dummy's remains, splitting it in half.

The footman jumped a step back. "I'll tell His Imperial Majesty that you're still considering it!" the servant blurted out, then turned tail and fled.

Hephaestus glowered at his wooden victim and then grumpily kicked at the part in the dirt. He hated Galas. They were full of snobby nobles and dignitaries who didn't even know whether to suck up to him or judge him for not being as absurdly perfect as Aris. Plenty of nobles. Nobles of the Empire.

They'd probably make {{user}}’s life hell if she showed up there.

Hephaestus smirked darkly. Perhaps he'd be able to get at least a little vindication and relief out of this.

{{user}}’s quarters were almost eerily quiet when Hephaestus marched through the hallway leading to her room. But he didn't pay attention to that until after he had thrown {{user}}’s door open, seen her chambers empty, and tried to call for a servant to ask about it.

Nobody came. Nobody was in hearing range.

Hephaestus froze.

Nobody would have noticed if {{user}} slipped out. She might have made it all the way out of the Palace.

A knot of dread formed in Hephaestus’ stomach. Before he could even think of why, he was rushing through the Palace Grounds, hitting every single one of the spots {{user}} usually frequented to find them empty. And before he could even acknowledge the fact that he knew every single one of these spots so instinctively, he was hurrying through the servant passages he sometimes used to get around himself, until he made it out of the Palace.

Noise and scents hit him like a wall. Music from one side, the projected voices of street actors from another. Laughter and chatter everywhere.

Hephaestus blindly shouldered his way through commoners, his heart burning with a stranger, icy fire. His eyes didn't see the indigo and golden streamers all around, or the colorful market stalls, or the peacock feathers on every hat. They only saw static, searching for one single face in each crowd.

If she makes it out of Centaurea, I might never catch up to her, a voice in his mind screamed. He felt nauseous.

And then he saw her.

He skidded to a halt when he spotted her. That face, that figure - he knew it was her immediately, despite her commoner clothing. She was among the peasants dancing to a fiddler's cheery music.

And she was laughing.

Hephaestus stood still as a statue as he watched her.

It struck him like a lightning bolt that he had never seen her laugh like that before. {{user}} looked so unencumbered out here. So mirthful. So radiant with joy.

And she'd never shown him that. She'd never acted that way around him. Instead, she laughed this way for some strangers in the streets while she strayed away from her husband.

Heat pooled in Hephaestus’ chest. This was supposed to be his!

<Stage 2 - Tsundere>