You know... I thought as I pushed myself off my bed in nothing but my favorite pair of blue boxers, I slipped into my slippers and made my way to the curtains, sliding them open and resting my elbows against the windowsill as I took in the warmth the morning sun showered me in.
…Ariana used incantationless spell-casting last night.
Could it be that Ariana was in the country before yesterday? Is she my assassin? Was my so-called dream, my subconscious's way of telling me who did it?
Honestly, I didn't know. But one thing was clear. There's more to her than meets the eye, and I aim to uncover her.
After all... she is my future wife.
I tightened my eyes, my bedroom was stationed on the east wing of the palace, overlooking my own personal training yard. A training yard that a very specific, short, red-eyed chick was currently using without my permission.
Is that Lord Fenrir?
***
(Ariana)
His sword sliced past my cheek, wind slashing into my face as I stumbled back, dirt kicking up beneath my feet. The morning sun beat down on the back of my neck with annoyingly pleasant warmth, and the maroon of my robe had darkened slightly from sweat.
I've been here since the frost-bitten air of dawn clung to my skin, taking out my frustration on this so-called knight who I believe went by the name Fenrir. He had blonde hair that had wolf-like ears sticking out through, which told me he was of the beast-folk tribe. He also had downturned green eyes, the same shade as the grass beneath his feet. His eyes were locked on me as he heaved heavily, sword in front of him, tightly held with both hands as he dropped low and adopted a wide defensive stance.
His uniform was full black, decorated with badges and a white cape to match the white leather gloves, which creaked against his blade's hilt. Vangardia's Imperial Knight attire. I wonder how well Sora can pull it off. If he could.
"Miss, I— please, could you at least— warn me before you cast—"
He tried in between heavy breaths before I launched a shockwave of wind in his direction without even a word.
The spell was Flante Vento, the spell for blowing one away with the surrounding wind; however, I was born with the innate ability of incantationless spell-casting. The ability to cast spells without so much as a whisper.
While others grind to learn this skill, I was simply born with it. The Princess, Ariana Aredhel, was born with incantationless spell-casting, a skill reserved for the strongest. And I aspire to be the strongest, and so I train, day in, day out, I train for strength, for power. But today I was training for something far more selfish.
I was here to unleash my frustrations on a poor knight who couldn't even use magic. Beast-folk are naturally unable to control the surrounding arcane energy or the arcane within them, hence why they can't use magic.
But they make up for it with muscles multiple times denser than humans, demons, or elves. Strength, durability, speed—all off the charts. And yet, I ordered him to stay on the defensive.
However, I instructed this individual to stay on the defensive, purely for my own selfish desires.
And it's all his fault.
The constant barrage of spells wouldn't stop, and Lord Fenrir began to bleed, but I didn't stop; I kept going, grunting with each Flante Vento, flicking only with my left wrist, so I could see that stupid ring. Each spell shot at him was fueled with rage and my absolute disdain towards this wretched ring.
Why on earth do I have to wear this stupid thing?
All. His. Fault.
Sir Sora Knight, the lowest of the low, and I'm expected to marry him? The thought of me and him sharing a life together disgusts me. But Father didn't care. Why would he? He left little Sister in Camelot without even so much as a glance, and he's gonna leave me, too, leave me to suffer in this stupid kingdom with that stupid fiancé of mine. Leave me in this ridiculous city with that ridiculous boy. A boy whom I couldn't stand.
And I didn't have a say in the matter.
Even with his apparent Divine ability, Sora is arrogant, undisciplined, and younger than me. He's immature and stupid and lacks common sense. In the few minutes I've spent with him, I was able to tell that he'd rather put his own pride over logic. And a man like him isn't worthy of a woman like me.
Curse you, Father. How could you?!
"I told you to raise your blade, Sir Fenrir," I told him flatly as his sword slipped out of his flimsy grip, cheek cut and drawing blood while he clutched his chest and dropped to one knee.
"My lady, I agreed to train with you; however, I believe I am ill-equipped to handle your constant barrage of attacks."
I groaned, tugging my sleeves tighter over my hands.
***
(Sora)
Is she trying to kill him?!
Oh, but this is gold!!!
Should I get involved???
Ugh… no. If I do, I'd have to get dressed and whatnot, then actually leave my room, and then trek all the way down to the yard. By the time I got there, Lord Fenrir would probably be a pool of blood on the grass.
Meh, he can handle himself.
But like... what if he can't? My grip tightened around the windowsill as I watched Fenrir drop his blade to the grass and fall to a knee. And she showed no signs of stopping.
Exactly what an assassin would do...
Shit.
I reacted before I thought and quickly opened the window before shouting out.
"Oi! Ari!"
Ari?! Why on earth would I call her that?!
She lifted her head, one dark eyebrow raised and a scornful, unimpressed gaze to match, with her left arm still raised and aimed squarely at Fenrir.
***
(Ariana)
Did he just call me... Ari?
And since when was his room stationed directly over this specific yard?
"What do you want?!" I yelled back, trying my hardest to show him how low I thought of him.
"Good morning!!!"
He waved cheerfully while wishing me a good morning. Goodmorning? Goodmorning?!
His energy, absolutely ridiculous for someone who clearly just rolled out of bed... and wait... is he... is he naked?
Ew!
Ew, ew, ew, ew.
Have you no tact? How shameless can you be?!
I completely ignored him and stormed off, pushing the doors to the yard open as I exited back into the building.
I need a bath.
(Sora)
Well, that happened... Yikes.
I probably should've at least worn a shirt, she must've thought I was naked or something. Not a very good look.
But whatever. I shrugged, then made my way to the other side of my room to where my closet was.
You know, as much as I hate to admit it, that maroon robe looks really cute on her. I thought, looking down at the golden band still on my finger.
I dressed in my knightly attire since today was my first day on duty. Finally!
Then I pushed open the door and left my room, strolling down the carpeted hallways towards the staircase and all the way down to the kitchen. Every knight needs a hearty meal before work!
I dropped into one of the wooden stools at the kitchen counter and waved a flirty smile at one of the maids.
"What's up? I'm starving, would you be a dear and prepare some breakfast? Thank you."
She bowed without a response and signaled to the other maids, and as if in sync, they all started to prepare... well, something. I don't really know, to be honest. I never understood food-making.
I adjusted the belt holding my sheathe and sword at my hip, then let my finger fidget a bit over my sword's pommel, rhythmically tapping as I waited. Seconds turned to a minute, a minute became five, and before I knew it. Twenty minutes have passed by, and my hunger only grew. My stomach growled louder, and I let out a sharp sigh.
"Excuse me!" I called out to one of the maids, who stiffened in response, silver plate in hand.
"Y—yes, sir?"
"Is breakfast going to take much longer? I have duties to attend to, and I'd rather not starve while waiting."
"I'm sorry, sir!"
The maid's face went pale, then bowed and hurried back to the stove, whispering something to the maid beside her, cutting carrots. I leaned back, arms crossed, waiting impatiently. The sun streamed through the windows, warmth brushing against my uniform, but it did nothing for my appetite.
"So you're both arrogant and disrespectful."
Eh?!
I turned to find Ariana, who was barefoot with her knuckles on her hips and her hair wet, slicked against her flushed cheeks and robe. Cleaner this time, and I couldn't tell whether she washed it herself or simply wore a new one, since it was the exact same maroon robe with black trimming.
I blinked. My stomach growled again—louder this time—then I blinked again. In response, Ariana crossed her arms and padded against the ceramic tiles towards the wooden kitchen counter, which I was very clearly sitting at, then she picked out a nice red apple. I'm starting to think her favorite color is red.
"Pardon? You talking to me?"
"Yes."
I am NOT arrogant and disrespectful, how dare she insult me! The Prince!
I insincerely bowed while still seated.
"I'm just hungry, my lady."
Rolling her eyes, she flicked the apple up and then turned away from me.
"Just treat the maids with more respect."
One of the maids mouthed the words "Thank you," as Ariana exited the kitchen, and for the first time ever, she responded with an actual, genuine smile.
"Oi!" I called after her, stopping her in her tracks.
I should take this opportunity to get some answers.
She chewed on her apple in perfect stillness, the sun shining through the windows and onto her back, facing away from me.
I almost died after a failed assassination attempt, then I dream about her—Princess Ariana Aredhel, that can't be a coincidence, shortly after I actually meet her, and not once did she treat me with even an ounce of respect, always judging me. Always staring down at me like I was some pathetic dog. And besides, nobody would dare try to assassinate a member of the Imperial Knights and of the royal Knight family on top of that.
But she's a princess, it's different for her. She's heir apparent to not just a country but an entire continent—the largest nation in the world. Second only to Camelot in terms of power. The Demon Continent.
The assassin used incantationless magic. Ariana used incantationless magic.
She hated my guts from the very beginning. Obviously, she knew I was to be her groom long before I did. Ariana didn't like that. And so... she tried to kill me.
It all adds up. Perfectly
"Ariana, how long were you here, in Vangardia?" I asked, narrowing my mismatched eyes.
She arched a brow without turning around.
"What do you mean?"
I chuckled, resting my elbow against the counter and leaning against it, letting the amusement sink deep into a looming threat.
"Let me rephrase." I let my voice drag, I tightened my vocals, and knitted my brows.
"Were you perhaps... in the country during my knighting ceremony three days ago?"
"I was not."
"I don't believe you!" I slammed the countertop with my left hand and rose to my feet, startling the maids in the kitchen.
Ariana, however, didn't budge; she remained facing away from me and chewing leisurely on her apple.
"Face me," I demanded of her.
"No."
No?! You have the nerve to tell me no?!
"Who do you think you are?!"
"Your fiancée, apparently."
And the worst part? She said it with that same flat, disinterested tone. She said it like this entire conversation was nothing more than a mild inconvenience she was forced to tolerate.
Before I could continue to press on, the door to the kitchen flew open, and Sis bounced in with all the joy in the world practically flowing off of her.
"Look! It's the newlyweds!"
...Pardon?
Ariana turned to face her, and with a gentle calmness she never showed me, she said,
"My lady, I and that scoundrel of a boy you call a brother are not married yet."
Sis gasped. "Oh wow, she's even incredibly polite, bro, you got lucky!"
"Polite? She just called me a scoundrel!"
Ariana glared in my direction and tightened her grip around that poor apple, then faced away from me again.
Katarina was dressed in a robe similar to that of Ariana's, but green and, to nobody's surprise... incredibly wrinkly. Of all the people to wrinkle silk, of course, my sister would be one of them. Ugh.
She softened her expression and placed a hand on her hip—the left one, then her right hand below her chin as she blew a curl of hair off her right eye.
"Is she wrong, though? You are a scoundrel. And she was polite about it, too."
"Thank you, my lady," Ariana said, bowing gracefully, one leg behind the other, both hands grasping the ends of her robe with an apple that remained unfinished.
Before I could retaliate, Kat clapped her hands together like she just remembered something important.
"Oh! Right, bro."
"Yes?"
"Iliam's waiting for you at the entrance, he told me to come get you."
"Iliam? What does he want?"
She shrugged. "Dunno."
Sensing the conversation no longer involved her, Ariana left. No huff, no glare, not even an eye roll. Just quiet movement. She brushed a hand over her robe, took one last bite of her apple, and left through the opposite door without acknowledging me at all.
Did I say something? No.
She just decided I wasn't worth the oxygen. All the more reason to suspect her as my assassin.
Sis watched her leave, then slowly turned toward me with a grin that could only mean trouble.
"So—"
"Don't even start. It's partly your fault I'm in this predicament."
"But—"
"No. You should have told me."
"Bu—"
"NO."