RHYSSAND & ARTIZEA
THE SKIES ABOVE THE CITY DARKENED. Storm clouds churned, mirroring the chaos below as knights scrambled to evacuate civilians, ushering them to safety.
Artizea, or what had become of her, loomed over the city. Her roars were so loud that they shook the earth and sent cracks stretching through the streets and buildings. Flames erupted from her jaws, consuming everything in their path, banners, towers, even the surrounding gardens that had once been her mother's touch of love to her people, slowly withering.
The greatest mercy a flower can offer is to die…
Arthuria watched as her son still clutched his side. The pain had reached its peak, far surpassing what her teas were capable of suppressing, "Arthur, please—" she pleaded desperately.
"No!" he snapped, "I am not leaving her." he would see this through; he would not abandon her again.
Artizea's rage had yet to cease; the once beloved Crown Princess was now a force of untamed destruction. There was no winning this fight with words, and time was out.
From the edge of the chaos, the king watched the city with a heavy heart, mourning the outcome of what would soon follow. He reluctantly extended his hand, summoning his divine chains, forged to bind even the gods themselves. They shot out, wrapping tightly around Artizea's massive form, her claws scraping against the chains, her fiery breath searing the earth.
"Father…" Artizea whispers in her mind, "You promised."
More Chains lash out, attempting to subdue her once more, but they snap like threads against her might.
Gilgamesh stood firm, his heart breaking with every chain he used; they shimmered while holding Artizea down. She thrashed and fought, her claws tearing into the earth, her wings threatening to tear free.
"Hold her steady!" Arthur shouted, his voice straining with effort while assisting his father in reinforcing the chains. But the beast before them knew no words, only rage. She lunged, straining against the chains. His hands shook while struggling to keep her contained at the weight of his physical pain and his broken promise. When he looked back up, it was then he realized, each pull seemed to drain her life force, taking its toll on her essence as the light in her eyes were slowly fading, "Father, we cannot keep this up. We are killing her!"
"And what would you have me do, Arthur? Let her destroy everything she loves? Let her destroy herself?" his father growled.
Before Arthur could respond, a voice all of a sudden swept through the calamity.
"Release her."
All eyes turned as Rhyssand stepped forward, his materialized lance resting in his dominant hand, his black and steel armor shining in the storm's light as it did the rite of challenge.
Arthur stepped in front of him, his sword drawn as his eyes narrowed. "Stay away from my sister—" he snarled.
"I am here to help."
"We do not need your help." Arthur shot back.
"With every second that passes, there is more time you give them to get here, and make no mistake, they are coming…" Rhyssand said in a hushed tone. "I am not your enemy here, Pendragon."
Arthur's sword dropped down cautiously. He needed to know why. "Even so, you do not know what you are walking into."
Rhyssand locked his gaze onto the raging dragon. "I know exactly what I am walking into," he said firmly. His voice carried both determination and an unyielding calm. "Evacuate the area, including yourselves."
Arthur hesitated, torn between his instincts to protect his sister and the civilians. But the look in Rhyssand's eyes gave him the answer he needed. Finally, he nodded. "Everyone, fall back!"
Gilgamesh faltered, his grip on the chains tightening.
"Your Majesty, you must let go."
"Do you think this is easy for me?" Gilgamesh grunted, his voice breaking with every heave. "She is still my daughter…"
Rhyssand met the gaze of not a king but a father. "You are losing her on the inside, and if you keep this up, you will lose her completely."
Arthuria approached Gilgamesh, her hand on his trembling arm. "Let him try, my love," she said softly. "Maybe there is another way."
His jaw clenched, his heart heavy with grief, "Swear it to me that you will not harm my daughter.""I swear on the queen's roses," Rhyssand said calmly.
The king's brow furrowed at the statement, "Good, because I will harm you, and I have no intention to be political about it."
"I understand."
Finally, the king relented. The chains dissolved, slithering into dust. At once, Artizea roared, the sudden freedom sending her into a violent frenzy.
"Gil…" Arthuria 's voice anchored him; she clasped his hand, though his eyes never left their daughter's dragon form.
"Leave her to me," Rhyssand said firmly.
The king and queen retreated reluctantly, and with it, the area was now empty.
Rhyssand approached the raging dragon with a steady, unyielding pace. The ground beneath him quaked with each step she took closer to its source. Her claws swiped dangerously close to Rhyssand. Yet he did not flinch.
"Looks like it is just you and me now, Artizea," he called out, his voice cutting through the storm she had created.
Her wings spreading wide, her fiery gaze bore into him, and she roared again, the sound shaking the very ground. A mixture of fury and confusion flashed within them.
Rhyssand smirked. "That's right, eyes on me." He raised his Spear, driving it into the ground, its celestial glow pulsing outward. A flicker of recognition flashed through the dragon as if she remembered the meaning.
"You are not this rage. You are not this destruction. You are Artizea Pendragon, the Crown Princess of the Human Realm…" His voice caught for a moment. "My Tizea—"
The dragon's glowing eyes flickered, and for a brief moment, something human shone through. Artizea lunged, and for a moment, it seemed as if she would burn him whole.
But Rhyssand held his ground, knowing if the woman he fought on this same soil was still in there, she would not harm him. She hesitated, her dragon form faltering for a moment before she let out another furious roar, her body still consumed by her emotions. Slowly, he reached out, his hand touching the edge of her snout. His veins instantly recognizing her blood, He closed his eyes and whispered a chant as old as the first day of the beginning, "Let there be light,"his celestial aura igniting around him."Call my true name and I will always listen…"
Artizea opened her eyes. She was underwater, chained, and she struggled against them once more. "Rhys…" she whispered, her voice broken.
"Artizea," Rhyssand called out. "What do you see?"
"Darkness…I cannot control it, I cannot break free."
The light from the water's surface, formed into a silhouette, the darkness of the sea around her grew brighter, as Rhyssand appeared, his wings enveloping them both. He extended his hand to the chains; his touch was gentle, and one chain broke away.
"See, it is possible, I cannot set you free, only you can. But I will guide you to your freedom. Do you trust me, Artizea?"
"Rhys..I can't"
"Do you trust me?" he repeated.
Artizea nodded.
His hand found her cheek, pressing his forehead to hers. Through that touch, she felt his connection, his steady, unyielding presence anchoring her. "I am here, feel me, feel us," he said softly. "Forget the voices and focus on me, just me."
The dragon's roar vibrated around her. Artizea whimpered, her tears flying to the surface of the water. They could be free, but not her; her thoughts suddenly made the darkness return.
But Rhyssand's light expanded, pushing it back. "Artizea, listen to me," he said, his tone insistent.
"You are stronger than this. I know you are. You control this plane."
She closed her eyes, fighting back the tears, focusing on the warmth of his light. Her breathing steadied.
"Your will is limitless here. Say it."
"I control it," she said softly, voice gaining strength.
One chain fell.
"Keep going."
"I control it."
The last two chains clattered free.
He hauled her upward. "That's my girl. Keep it up — straight to the top."
"You said you would be with me." She choked on the words, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.
"Guess I am better suited to be a guardian angel…" he replied with a smirk
Instantly, she remembered what he said, "I do not like to get them wet. Heavier to fly." She gasped, but insisted on finding air in her lungs,"You're not going to die on me, or you!" refusing to let him go.
"You are out of questions for this cycle, princess," he finally let her go.
She saw a chain stretched up for her, but instead Rhyssand pushed it back, it when then that she understood, someone must stay behind…
"I cannot hear you!" he teased.
Artizea tore her head from him reluctantly, pushing herself upward. "I control it—" she kept repeating until the surface broke; she gasped, taking in a greedy breath. Then—
THUD.
Artizea hit soil. She sprawled on the cracked ground, her chest heaving. When she opened her eyes, she was rasping, coughs wracking her chest, saltwater clinging to her lashes. Through them, she saw her older self once more.As she strode toward her, the jagged lance in her hand was glowing ominously. Her lance was across the room, far out of reach.
"I did not even know it was even possible to come back… even more Pathetic than you left…" the older self sneered with irritation."But the impossible is you do best…" twirling her lance with practiced ease. "Your rejection was and still ishumorous, along with your boy toy's futile intrusions. In conclusion: Give Up."
It was in that moment she realized who that tone of voice belonged to; then she worked her way up he ladder, it was her family, every…word was from her memory…
"Your will is limitless here." Rhyssand's voice resonated within her.
Arizea tried to push herself up, but her arms trembled beneath her. "I will not give up…" she whispers through gritted teeth. "I control it."
"What was that?"
"I control it!" Artizea roared with a deep resonating tone, her crimson eyes awakened.
A monarch's voice.
The older self stops a few paces away, "Oh?" raising a hand. From the air, glowing chains materialize, snaking toward the younger Artizea. They wrap around her wrists and ankles, forcing her back to the ground. The weight of the chains presses into her skin, cold and suffocating.
"No—"
"Ah, so you do remember these?" the older self asks, crouching to meet her gaze. "Our father's chains. His way of reminding us of the monster we are fated to be. You control nothing here, and damn well do not have control over yourself, because if you did…I would have never existed."
The younger Artizea hitched a breath.
"Had you not let me fester in the back of your mind, growing stronger every day, maybe just maybe, you would still havea throne. You fed your delusion, convinced yourself you were so.. powerful…that you were so worthy." She raised a hand to her forehead, "Here, let me help you remember what you buried."
"NO!" The younger struggles against the chains.
The older article placed a hand to her temple. In an instant, her mind flashed back to that fateful day, the panic, the loss of control, the chains of her father holding her down as chaos unfolded. The same helpless cry of her people in the past and present threatened to consume her again.
"This is what we are…"
The younger Artizea cried out, her voice echoing through the barren wasteland.
"Monsters."
The memories ceased when the finger withdrew.
The younger artizea gasped, staring at the ground as her tears printed the sand.
The older Artizea scoffs, finally standing tall. "You have always been too weak to break free…"
"You are correct…"
"I am glad you are finally catching on, give up, and we can finally join as one, we will be unstoppable—"
"We?"
"Yes…" she knelt again."Say the word, and we shall lay waste to everything. What need have we for a kingdom of foolish humans… when we can rule the gods?" she chuckled.
But something shifted in the younger Artizea's eyes. Golden light igniting around her, spreading, intensifying. Rhyssand's light joined it, threading through her.
"Piss off…" she muttered, though her voice was steady now.
The older Artizea snared.
"This is my plane, everything here is filled with my essence, along with you!" She pulls against the chains. Cracks of light form along the chains that bind her. The older Artizea's eyes widened as the power before her surged. With a primal scream, the chains shatter in an explosion of energy.
"Lesson number three: we have stamina…" she remembered Rhyssand saying as he planted a kiss after kiss, she remembered, "We are very agile…and… we grow…"
When the light faded, the real Artizea rose to her feet, in place of her younger self, she inspected her hands, and held out one, her lance flying back to her hand as if summoned by only a thought. Her weapon now gleamed with wakened light; it expended its edge, sharp but unrefined. Rhyssand.Her lips quirked up.
The older self's lance was still dark and jagged, a weapon forged from pain and regret. Her stance is compact and steady, her eyes locked onto her older self. She narrowed her eyes, trembling with a mix of anger and something close to fear. "So you have gotten stronger, that does not make you any less of a weak link."She lunges forward, her lance whistling through the air.
Darkness met light as their lances locked in. Artizea gripped her lance tightly, her stance instinctively wide. But a memory flashed.
"Your stance is too wide. Balance is the key to Compact. Ready. Adaptable." Eugene's voice rang out. "Is what I would say if I cared."
Their lances locked in. "I have carried your pain, anger, and guilt for too long. But they are no longer mine to bear." Artizea gritted out, pushing her older self back.
"You take the left and I take the right…" Arthur's voice sang.
Artizea did not block the incoming slashes; instead, she pivoted left to left, dodging the attacks.
"Sometimes I just wanna bow, bow, bow—" Elaine's voice barked.
Artizea threw up her lance. Taking the older self by guard. What she gathered so far is that her older self recovers quickly. So Artizea needed to sting her just enough to get an open shot. She recoiled her fist and landed a three-punch combo. She then collected her lance and swung it in a horizontal sweep.
The older Artizea dove low, rolling under the attack. Her heart is pounding.
Ba-dum Ba-dum Ba-dum.
Artizea could hear it within her soul. She shifted into a compact stance. "If you are too slow to parry, exploit the opening. Move through their defenses,"echoing her mother's lessons. She waits, her focus razor-sharp, until the perfect possible moment.
Her older self raises her lance to strike downward, but the younger one makes her move. She darts forward, sliding between the older self's legs with a burst of speed, slicing cleanly across the back of the older self's leg.
"Execution was my least favorite hobby, Swing and be done with it, on to the next…no fun at all. But if you wish to spice things up, make your prey beg for their deaths…"
The older Artizea lets out a roar of pain, her wounded leg giving out beneath her. She collapses to one knee, her dominating stance faltering. She looked up to see Blood glistening off the younger Artizea's lance, then to its holder, who was breathing heavily but more confident now. The younger drives her lance forward, the tip stopping just short of her older self's throat. Then—
"Wait—" The older Artizea rasped, her chest heaving. Her lance clatters to the ground while her anger begins to fade.
"That was before I knew a king can never be an executioner, not with a good conscience, let mercy prevail, if not for the person in front of you, for future yourself, promise me that."
"I promise, Dad…"
It just so happened she was looking at both.
"You learned," her older self murmured
Artizea froze. "I adapted," she said while lowering her weapon, along with kneeling in the dirt, reciting words she could not remember ever knowing. "From Ash May I rise, From fire may you perish. In the shadows, may you find rest and peace."
The older self begins to dissolve her form, breaking apart into embers that swirl around Artizea. "I shall not rest, nor will there be peace until your inevitable end, then you shall be back here….with me…forever…."
All that was left was golden mist.
When there was nothing left but silence, a growl resonated. She turned without hesitation to meet the dragon's eyes that blazed in front of her. She reached out, placing her hand on the dragon's massive snout. The creature leaned in, closing its eyes, as its massive body began to tremble into the soil they stood on.
In an instant, the void around her brightened, the world becoming whole again. Revealing Rhyssand's outstretched hand to her. Tears streamed down her face while taking it, collapsing into his embrace. "Rhys.." Her breathing was ragged.
"You did it, Princess," Rhyssand said while cradling her, one hand warm at the small of her back, the other cupping her face. She clung to him like a life raft.
"I-i thought—" she whispered, weaker now. "You broke your promise, too—"
He brushed her cheek and smiled. "I have you," he murmured. "I am here," while he steadied her, his hand cradling the back of her head.
Artizea suddenly whimpered. Flashes of chaos within her that threatened to stir again. Her older self was right, there would be no peace…
He held her as though his arms alone could keep the world from breaking. "Hey, hey, Stay with me—" he begged, but her trembling only worsened, bringing them both to their knees. It was then he felt it.
Badum—Ba-dum—Bdum-Ba dum.
Shit..His eyes shook painfully, closing them upon realizing the root of the cause. Him. He galnced at his veins awakening, sensing the shit as well. He reluctantly breathed her in one last time. His next words trembled as a tear traced down his cheek, "May you forget…I ever said…" He winced while pressing a kiss against her hair. "Let there be rest…"he whispered the words he had never dared to speak to her or anyone.
Artizea's lashes instantly fluttered shut as her breathing finally stilled.
"I'm sorry, Tizea…" He whispered, then began to work quickly, unfastening his cape from his armor, draping it over her frame before gathering her in his arms. He watched as she clung to him, like a forbidden fruit, her mind screaming she should not, yet her vessel refused. He dared not summon magic for he could not risk magic disturbing his command, and so he walked slowly through the broken city, through the sea of wounded souls who lifted their eyes to him.
The murmurs rose like smoke, then swelled into cries."The gods have come to save us… they have answered our prayers!" One man said, upon falling to his knees. Then another. And another. Soon, the street bent beneath their worship.
Rhyssand raised his wings, shielding her slightly from their treason. He saw conflict and, worse of all. He saw fear…
That was when the five knights appeared, stepping through the swarm. They looked broken and battered, but stood tall. At their head stood the familiar knight from the wall. He said nothing at first—only whistled. At his command, the knights closed in, forming a protective ring around Rhyssand and their Crown Princess at his side. "I am Sir James, Your Highness, Second in command of the Future Queen's Knightguard. Please allow us to see to her safety," he said firmly. Not waiting for a response, he took the front. He whistled again, then led them forward into the palace's gates.
Arthur was mentally pacing even as his body stayed still, one hand pressed stubbornly against his side while Eugene finished stitching the wound. He then heard metal footsteps. His gaze first swept over Sir James, who stepped aside to reveal his sister, instantly rushing forward in relief. He then turned to the knights."Thank you—all of you—for your service…" he exhaled, "Please, rest—"
"My apologies, My Prince," Sir James interrupted, his voice unwavering even as blood trickled from his brow. "There is still work to be done…"
"You have done enough!" Arthur hissed.
"— at least until the Crown Princess awakens…" he stressed.
Arthur hesitated, then searched the guards; they had looks of defiance. He shook his head in acceptance, thennodded with solemn respect. His gaze slowly shifted to Rhyssand. "On behalf of the realm, we thank you…" His voice was stern. "Let us take it from here."
The family watched from the edges of the halls, their relief palpable but tempered by the lingering tension.
Rhyssand met their gazes, one by one. "If I let her go, she will transform back. Is that truly what you wish?"
Arthur had nothing else to say.
"Where are her chambers?" Rhyssand asked.
"Follow me…" Elaine said and led him through the ruined throne room.
"Gil," Arthuria said softly.
Gilgamesh turned away, his shoulders trembling. "I chained her again," he whispered, guilt choking his voice. "I broke my vow, Ri…"
Arthuria stilled at the call of her nickname. She placed a hand on his shoulder, her once sapphire eyes filled with misty fog. "You did what you thought was best, what we thought was best—"
He shook his head, setting his gaze shifted to the opening behind the throne, of what remained of their kingdom. The city was mostly intact, safe for the temple and a few buildings, but all he could think about now was his daughter, whom he had failed.
"It is not good enough."
ARTIZEA
Artizea woke to the soft rustling of curtains and the faint scent of medicinal herbs.
The room was quiet, save for the distant hum of life in the palace. She blinked slowly, her body still heavy with exhaustion, and turned her head to see Elaine sitting nearby, stitching a piece of embroidery.
"You are awake!" Elaine exclaimed in relief. She set down her work and moved to the bedside, "You gave us all quite a scare."
Artizea tried to sit up, but the ache in her muscles forced her back down. Her memories came rushing back, her uncontrollable rage, Rhyssand standing in the storm, then holding her. From her window, she watched as the city below buzzed with unrest. She heard the chants of protests and cries of Grief in the distance.
Elainequickly shot up to close the window. "Father is—"
Artizea flinched.
Elaine tried again, "They are doing everything we can to move and rebuild as quickly as possible…"
Artizea's eyes were clouded, she was here but she was not here, until she looked down at the purple cloak she was covered in, "Rhys…" She whispered, her voice hoarse, looking around.
Elaine hesitated, her hands busy adjusting the blanket around her sister. "After…" She paused, choosing her words carefully. "He brought you here," she said softly. "You were unconscious."
"Where is he?" Her heart tightened.
"I do not know—" she admitted quietly.
Tears are creeping in. She tried again to push herself upright, but Elaine gently placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her.
"Do not push yourself," she said firmly. "You are still recovering. He gave me information to relay to you."
"Tell me everything," Artizea demanded, her tone desperate.
Elaine looked down, avoiding Artizea's gaze.
As Rhyssand lays Artizea gently on the bed, adjusting the cape to ensure she's fully covered with his magic. Her face is peaceful in unconsciousness, a stark contrast to the storm she unleashed moments ago.
The door creaks open.
A soft voice seeps in, "It is you she sneaks off to see, isn't it?" Elaine stepped closer, her eyes darting from her sister to the mysterious man. "You do not have to answer-"
"I am, and you must be Princess Elaine," he smiled without turning, "Rhyssand," he offered.
"Just Elaine," she nodded, "How is she?"She changed the subject.
"Exhausted," his gaze still fixed on Artizea. "But she will be fine."
She crosses her arms, her expression conflicted. "Will your realm come for her…?"
"They will try their best," he murmured.
"What will happen to you?"
Rhyssand stilled, "I will be fine. She needs aftercare. Can I entrust that to you, Elaine?"
"Of course," she bounced, "What do you wish for me to do?"
"Stay with her," He said, "Make sure she's not alone when she wakes up. And remind her she's not what they say she is."
Elaine froze. "I will."
She watched as he pulled at the edge of his cloak, tearing a strip of fabric with ease. With careful precision, he wrapped the dark silk around her hand, the energy within it resonating faintly with his own upon tying the final knot.
"What is that?" Eugene asked, stepping into the room.
"This will contain her energy." Rhyssand said, lifting Artizea's hand gently, "Think of it as a reservoir, a way to keep her awakened power from spilling over. She will feel and experience everything she's pushed aside for years, and it will not be kind. Keep her within the palace walls. If she tries to find me, tell her the answer is no. I will buy us enough time in my realm until the meeting, where we can decide how to move forward." He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the center of her palm, just where the edge of the silk ended. A faint glow spread from the contact, his energy transferring into hers, stabilizing the chaotic remnants of her power. His gaze lingered on her fingers before letting go.
Eugene took a hesitant step closer. "Thank you," he said quietly, "For saving her."
Rhyssand smiled, "Always," he said softly. He rose and moved toward the balcony, pausing for only a moment to look back once more to see Artizea. Her siblings lingered by her side, their concern for her etched on their faces, before taking flight.
Artizea's chest tightened. Memories of Rhyssand whispering to her, she glances at the purple silk, his strength keeping her grounded, his hands holding her gently yet with unshakable determination, played vividly in her mind.
"I have to find him…" she said.
Elaine shook her head. "He said you not to—"
"I do not care."
"You are in no condition to go anywhere, anyway! I am sure he will be back—"
"Elaine, I love you—" She whispered, her voice cracking. "But, I do not wish to hear what any of you think is best for me right now."
Footsteps approached hesitantly. Arthur. Her senses instantly told her.
"You lost control, Tiz," he said quietly, one hand pressed to his side.
Artizea did not answer. Her eyes stayed fixed on the ground, but the images would not stop, flashes of burning portraits, echoing voices, and her brother's eyes, wide with shock, while he bled out. Her throat tightened. She turned away, tears slipping free. Was I the reason for the library's fire? She asked herself. "You will never know peace…"
"I am sorry…" she whispered, and the tears came harder.
"I am fine, Tiz," Arthur said, stepping closer without caution.
"Don't." Her voice cracked. "None of you… touch me." She backed away, shaking her head. "I am dangerous. I should be locked away—"
Arthur ignored it all, completely closing the distance and pulling her into his arms, his hold firm despite his wounds.
"I'm so sorry… Brother… I'm sorry…" Her words broke apart in sobs.
Arthur shook his head. "One, two, three…" he murmured
Her trembling lips followed, almost childlike. "One, two, three…"
"So no one bleeds," he whispered.
"So no one bleeds…" she echoed, her breath hitching.
But the words did not reach her. All she could hear was the relentless echo in her mind: What have I done? What have I done? The question beat in rhythm with her tears, falling endlessly down her face.
He did bleed. They all bleed for her.
Arthur felt every drop, "I love you, Big Sister. I am sorry I broke my promise."
"We all are…" Elaine whispered, folded into their embrace, her arms encircling them both.
Eugene approached more quietly, then held out his hand, with in it was a small bottle labeled in his writing: Healing medicine for Big Brother— complete with a list of ingredients written beneath.
Arthur blinked at it, then smiled. Even through the ache in his body, he managed a soft chuckle. He reached as if to tug his younger brother into the embrace, only to realize Eugene was already there, pressed against his chest. They stood like that for a while, like a four-leaf clover.
RHYSSAND
The moment Rhyssand's boots touched the marble of Celesta's great hall, the slap came, swift, sharp, and expected. His head snapped to the side, but he did not flinch. He met his mother's gaze, straight on.
Ishtar's nostrils flared. Her eyes were struggling to maintain their brightness.
"My deepest apologies, Mother," he said evenly. "I would seem to have failed."
"It would seem so!"
Though his tone of voice seemed to calm her down. Or a specific word struck her soft spot. Her breath came hard through her nose. "Mommy is angry," she said at last, her tone deceptively sweet. "Forgive me." The smile that followed was anything but gentle. "Let us run this over from the top…" she began, her voice dropping into something cool and cutting, "You helped…the enemy. You betrayed your realm…" She tapped a finger against her chin. "Uh-What am I missing?"
"I saved her life," Rhyssand replied.
"Right—" Ishtar exclaimed upon stepping closer, her presence towering. "You saved her life. The very life we are meant to take." Her head tilted, her smile widening without warmth. "You see where the confusion comes in, son?" She pinched the bridge of her nose. "No matter," Ishtar said at last, her tone smoothing into something cold and measured. "The grand plan still survives…"
"What plan?" Rhyssand's voice cut through the silence.
"The one you whispered to Azreaphel, of course…" Ishtar glanced over her shoulder, the curve of her mouth cruel. "Did you think to keep it hidden much longer? I confess, I am disappointed, but only in the fact that you had trusted me; I would have assisted gladly. Your mind truly is genius, the way it weaves—"
"No—Mother, no—"
"Why, Rhys? Why will you not let mommy help you?"
"Because you go too far!" Rhyssand's voice rose.
Ishtar's was soft, chilling. "And perhaps I do… However, I find this plate quite delicious… If I were to refuse to throw it away, I wonder what you would do about it. The entire council is on its way. Shall I tell them the master plan, or shall you—"
"I know about you and Azreaphel," Rhyssand grunted out.
Her head snapped toward him. "What?"
"Are you going to tell them or should I?" he said quietly.
Ishtar's hand twitched; another slap was coming, and it would have, had it not been for the groaning of the council doors. Voices spilled into the hall. "Your Majesty," one of the elder councilors said as they stepped inside, "We demand to know why the execution was called off."
Rhyssand's eyes never left his mother. He knew she would never name him as the cause, not when he was an extension of her will and influence.
And indeed, Ishtar's smile bloomed, all charm and poise. She turned to face them fully. "My lords," she began, voice carrying the weight of a ruler, "Your Monarch has chosen to move in a different direction. One that does not leave us with the hatred of the human realm. We need their worship just as much as they need our power, for without us, there will be no sun or moon, greenery, or even the seasonal cycles. As it stands, they still see us as a sign of protection… and power." Her eyes gleamed. "But the worst is yet to come, and when it does, they will be praying to us for freedom once more."
The murmurs shifted, then quieted.
"All in favor?" the queen asked.
A chorus of 'Amen' filled the chamber.
From the side, Azreaphel drifted closer to Rhyssand, his wings relaxing upon approach. He leaned in just enough for his words to be for him alone. "You have a lingering human scent on you that makes my wings twitch," he said, voice low with disdain. "I despise it."
Rhyssand's glare was cold. "Are you not yet tired of scavenging the scraps thrown your way?" His words hung heavy in the air while walking away, he felt the burning gaze at the back of his neck, but he left it behind, along with the echo of his footsteps cutting through the murmurs behind, along with everything else.