MELONIE;
The heat of Tartarus clings to me like a second skin, a constant reminder of the power that courses through my veins. This throne room, carved from the bones of forgotten gods, is my sanctuary, my stage, my domain. I pace, the echoes of my footsteps lost in the oppressive silence, a silence broken only by the distant screams of the damned a symphony I find oddly soothing.
Euryale's failure is a bitter taste in my mouth, a humiliation I intend to savor and then spit out onto the hapless souls who dared to defy me. To think, I expended my precious time and resources fishing her out of Khavena, and this is what I receive in return? Incompetence is a disease, and I have no patience for it.
Arielle, the insignificant princess, is the real source of my irritation. An ignorant pawn, barely understanding the game she's stumbled into. To believe she has any right over Caith, my intended, my future. Her audacity is breathtaking, a flickering flame I intend to extinguish with a swift and brutal gust.
Caith. My Caith. The thought of him sets my blood alight. His strength, his nobility, the wild spark in his eyes, he is everything I desire, a consort worthy of a princess of Tartarus. The image of his face sends shivers down my spine, I want him and I will not settle for second best.
She thinks I'll let her ruin my plans? I laugh, a low, dangerous sound that reverberates through the throne room. Let her play at being queen, let her delude herself into thinking she has a say in this. I will use her, manipulate her, twist her little games into my own advantage. This war is not over yet.
The air shimmers, and Euryale appears before me, a wretched, singed mess. Her serpentine hair drips with what I sincerely hope is shame. I raise a perfectly manicured eyebrow, waiting for her pathetic explanation. She wraps a cloth over her eyes.
"Speak," I command, my voice a silken whip.
She stammers, babbling about alliances and cleverness, about Caith being… changed. Intriguing. A power beyond the mortal? A darkness lurking beneath the surface? This piques my interest. Perhaps Caith is even more fascinating than I originally believed.
"And Arielle?" I ask, the name a venomous caress on my tongue. "She breathes still?"
Euryale nods, whimpering. "Yes, my Princess. But she is nothing, a fool who cannot see the tides turning against her."
I smile, a slow, cruel curve of my lips. "Precisely. And fools are so very easy to manipulate."
I rise from my throne, my eyes fixed on Euryale. "You are fortunate, Gorgon. I am in a magnanimous mood. I will grant you one last chance to redeem yourself. A new task awaits you. Do not disappoint me again."
The scent of pomegranate and blooming nightshade wafts through the throne room, a subtle but distinct arrival. My mother glides into the room, her presence a calming influence amidst the swirling chaos of my thoughts. Her beauty is timeless, a delicate facade concealing a will of steel honed over millennia as Queen of the Underworld.
"Melonie, darling," she says, her voice a soothing melody that belies the sharpness of her intellect. "Must you always resort to brute force? There are… subtler ways to achieve your desires."
I sigh, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. Mother's penchant for diplomacy is admirable, but often ill-suited to the realities of Tartarus. "There is nothing subtle about *stealing* my future husband, Mother. Arielle is an obstacle, and obstacles must be removed."
She raises an eyebrow, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "Are you certain you have thought this through, my dear? From what I have gleaned, Caith and Arielle are already wed. Tying them together would be seen as rude. Tearing a bond so soon may have its consequences. Is that bond not blessed by Hymenaios, the god of marriage, himself?"
"A mere formality," I scoff. "A meaningless ceremony orchestrated by ignorant mortals. It changes nothing."
"Perhaps," Persephone concedes, her eyes gleaming with a hint of amusement. "But consider this, Melonie. Caith was cursed by your father. A curse that would have consumed him long ago. Yet, he found a way to break it. And the key to that liberation… is Arielle."
My jaw tightens. I had heard whispers of this. A ludicrous tale about a mortal princess possessing the power to nullify a curse of the Underworld. Ridiculous!
"I refuse to believe it," I retort, my voice sharp. "A mortal could not possibly possess such power. It's nothing but a coincidence, a fleeting stroke of luck."
Persephone studies me for a long moment, her gaze piercing. "Do not underestimate her, Melonie. Arielle may appear innocent, perhaps even naive. But she outwitted a Gorgon, a creature of immense power and ancient cunning. That is not the mark of a fool, darling. She is a force to be reckoned with, and she needs to be taken seriously."
"Don't overestimate her Mother." I am not happy when she speaks so highly of the princess, who thinks herself the better of me. "She may have out witted Euryale but her luck will soon run out."
My patience wears thin. "I am not concerned with luck, Mother. Or diplomacy. I want Caith, and I will stop at nothing to have him. If that means destroying Arielle, then so be it." I will show my power. I am the princess of Tartarus, and no one will ever forget that.
Persephone sighs, a sound of weary resignation. She raises a hand towards Euryale, still cowering in the corner, a pathetic sight that grates on my nerves. "You are dismissed, Gorgon. Return to your duties. And try not to come here again."
Euryale bows low, her serpentine hair scraping the floor, before vanishing in a puff of acrid smoke. Good riddance. I have little patience for failures.
Turning back to me, Persephone's expression hardens. Her usual softness is gone, replaced by the implacable gaze of a queen who has ruled the Underworld for centuries. "I understand your desires, Melonie," she says, her voice now laced with a chilling authority. "But I implore you to tread carefully. Your obsession with Caith is blinding you. Do not allow it to consume you."
She pauses, her eyes searching mine. "Remember who you are, Melonie. You are a Princess of Tartarus. You possess a power that few can comprehend. Use it wisely, not recklessly. And do not underestimate Arielle. She may be an obstacle, but she is also a wild card, a force that could potentially disrupt everything you have planned."
Persephone steps closer, placing a cool hand on my cheek. "I love you, Melonie. And I want what is best for you. But I will not stand by and watch you destroy yourself, or this realm, in pursuit of a fleeting infatuation."
Her words sting, a subtle reprimand that cuts through my arrogance. I know that she is right, on some level. My ambition, my desire for Caith, is consuming me, threatening to eclipse my judgment. But I cannot help myself. I want him. And I will have him.
"I understand, Mother," I say, my voice softer now, a carefully constructed facade of obedience. "I will be… cautious. I will consider your words."
Persephone nods, her gaze unwavering. "See that you do, Melonie. For your sake, and for the sake of Tartarus. Because in the end, darling, it is you who will pay the price for your choices."
With those final words, she turns and glides out of the throne room, leaving me alone once more with my thoughts. The heat of Tartarus seems to intensify, pressing down on me, suffocating me. My resolve solidifies. I will have Caith. I will have him, I always will, but I will get him more cunningly.
And I will show my mother. I always win.