500 YEARS LATER…
To be frank, anyone with a brain and literacy knows the sun ascends from the east. It has been written by scholars and proven by astronomers since the dawn of time. That much they all agree upon. They also say the sun is the one thing man cannot command. And perhaps, in part, that is true too. But ask why it rises, and you will find very few would have the same answer. Here in the southern lands, it rises with the king's morrow breath and through his will, casts a warmth over the kingdom.
They call it —Babyloniyah, the city of Gold.
Merchants shouted from their stalls within the inner, as the vibrant colors of their goods stretched along the streets. A dazzling display of artisan works, silks, spices, and jewels. All the while, the future inheritors of the great nation, weaved between the masses, with their innocent laughter.
"Come on!" one boy urged, tugging at his friend's sleeve as the four of them darted toward the heart of it all, where stood the imperial palace and home to the Pendragons.
A roar of voices drew them toward the training grounds of the grand arena. The palace's front gates' knight guard never even saw them slip past as they pressed through the archway.
One of the children gasped, catching the rest's attention, and froze eyes wide. "That is her." One whispered,
"The Crown Princess,Artizea Pendragon," another excitedly exclaimed, pointing toward the sandpit, where a woman tightened the grip on her practice weapon. Her long, golden hair had caught the wind as it shimmered in the sunlight. At one and twenty, she had the look of a seasoned heir and warrior; her fiery crimson eyes were locked across the field, where her younger brother by a year circled her.
Another child leaned closer, eyes gleaming, "And that is the first Prince of the realm, Arthur Pendragon! They say his gaze can still the tides themselves. At least… That is what my sister and her friends say." He blurted sheepishly.
Arthur had just finished tying up his sandy blonde hair in a half-up, complementing his chiseled features, when he turned his pale blue eyes to face Artizea. "Come now, big sister," He flexed his jaw into a grin, "Father would be disappointed if you went easy on me."
Artizea smirked while shifting into a stance. "You talk too much for someone who has yet to land a single strike," she remarked, swiftly twisting her practice sword. "Gone soft, have we? Little brother."
Arthur clicked his tongue, then, with a burst of speed, he lunged. He swung his blade with the speed of light, but Artizea deflected it with ease, grazing his arm before he managed to leap back.
"Point," a voice called out.
"Whose that!" another child asked.
"That is Eugene Pendragon!"
The second Prince sat on a nearby bench, holding a thick customized book in his lap, the faint glow of magical runes dancing across its surface. At seven and ten, he was a dreamer, known mostly for his antisocial habits.
"Again!" Arthur demanded, switching his stance.
"I do not know why they bother keeping count, Artizea always wins," came a calm voice.
Eugene did not look up. "It is not about winning," he said. "At least that is what Arthur thinks."
Perched on a low stone wall above him was the last of the royal children.
He grinned. "Oh, OH! I know—That is the second Princess of the realm. She spoke to me once! Her name is—"
Elaine Pendragon.
At five and ten, she was a free spirit who roamed wherever her legs could take her, even where she should not be. She swung them idly, lowering her gaze toward her brother while her braid swayed. "What is the score?" she asked, her sapphire eyes darting back and forth between her eldest siblings.
"I somehow feel… saying it out loud would make it worse than it sounds," Eugene sighed slowly.
Elaine rolled her eyes in amusement, curiously leaning closer to peek at his mysterious book, "Why are you always reading that boring stuff anyway? You should spar with them. It looks like fun!"
Eugene simply waved a page in complete boredom and disinterest. "Fun is subjective. I find it best to leave the clashing of steel to those who enjoy brute force."
Unsurprised, Elaine rested her chin in her hands while returning her attention to said clashing of steel. "They always make it look so easy," she murmured in awe.
The sudden clang of a sword falling on stone clattered in the air, accompanied by a low grunt.
"Point," Eugene said without looking up.
"I know!" Arthur yelled.
Elaine wrinkled her nose. "Does it not get exhausting? I would rather explore the forests than swing a sword all day."
Eugene shrugged, "They have been training since they could walk; it is second nature to them." Nonchalantly turning another page. "You prefer adventure, Artizea and Arthur prefer to fight."
Elaine giggled, "And what do you prefer, brother?"
Eugene huffed in exhaustion, "To be left in peace,"
A resounding back-and-forth sequence filled the air, once more, this time louder. Artizea deflected Arthur's attacks repeatedly. Upon his turn, he met her charge with a practiced block as well. She countered his current strike with a kick to his ribs that made him spit out blood.
"Yield?"
Arthur grinned while wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Not a chance." He proclaimed, dropping back into stance. His eyes narrowed in concentration.
Artizea struck first, aiming for his opposite side. He dodged just in time; his grin only grew into a rising smirk upon raising two fingers over the practice sword, mysterious glowing symbols stretched along the blade in a language he could not read nor comprehend, yet he knew it meant one thing. Artizea scowled. But before she could pull back, Arthur thrust a burst of energy that forced her backward. Their swords were about as dull as a butter knife. But in the hands of a skilled warrior, they were the deadliest objects on this side of the realm.
"Point!" Arthur laughed out loud. "Eugene! Write that down!"
"Wooo!" Elaine cheered from the sidelines.
"I would not feed his ego just yet…" Eugene murmured.
"Why not?"
"Wait for it."
Arthur raised his sword high."Yield now, or let the gods witness your defeat at the hands of the fearless, Arthur Pendragon!"
Eugene's lips went into a flat line while pointing to the reason.
Artizea gave her brother a few extra seconds to bask in the glow of his short-lived victory and then moved. Seizing the moment, she lunged forward and, with one hand, grabbed his wrist. Before he realized what was happening, he flipped on his back and hit the ground with a grunt, his sword clattering to the side while losing his glow.
Artizea loomed over him, "How about now?" she asked, pressing her boot on his chest, the tip of her blade lightly resting against his neck.
Arthur groaned in exhaustion, "Fine—I yield." Raising his hands in surrender, "Get your gods damn size fives off my good linen."
Artizea snorted. She complied with his request, then lowered her sword before offering him a hand. He took it, pulling himself to his feet as if he were a centenarian. "You have been practicing," he praised, brushing dirt from his pants.
"Of course," Artizea replied, while smiling proudly. "The Rite of Challenge is three moons away. I have to be ready for anything."
The children were huddled against the railing, bewitched. Just then, the heavy doors creaked open. They shrank back, hearts pounding as three robed figures entered.
"And them?" one child asked softly.
"The representatives of the other tribes, Arkadia, Syria, and Egypt… The council."
"You Fool!" The Arkadian councilman shouted out, "You would risk tardiness, worst of all, the king's wrath for a concubine's handkerchief—" He pointed a sharp finger at the man from Syria.
"Just because she had no interest in an eunuch does not mean you should ruin it for the rest of us, Scholar," the Syrian man drawled.
"Maybe just maybe, I shall ask the gods to make you one tonight," the Arkadian councilman gritted out, "Perhaps only then you will finally learn restraint."
The Syrian councilman fixed his face with a scowl, "You are so obsessed with me that you would wish to take away my rights as a man?" scoffing, "Gods forbid someone should think we were more than associates…" he stilled, then smirked, "You need only ask, you know…"
The Egyptian councilwoman rolled her eyes, as if this were a weekly routine.
"You desert rat barbarian Scum!" the Arkadian councilman snapped.
Tsk. "Hardly a desert in my company…"
"Scum! As if anyone would willingly kiss your sandals, let alone touch your pestilence-ridden, withered excusefor a—"
The children did not stay to hear the rest. Their laughter faded upon fleeing the scene.
Elaine clapped enthusiastically. "That was amazing!" skillfully jumped down from the sidelines, nudging Eugene's shoulder. "Right, Brother?"
"Not bad," he simply said.
Artizea turned toward them, her expression softening upon landing on Eugene. "You know, I read somewhere that sometimes, taking a break to hit something once in a while, does wonders for one's psyche."
"My psyche is just fine, thank you," Eugene said with a hint of irritation.
Arthur snorted while slinging an arm around Artizea's shoulders. "You waste your breath, Artizea. He is hopeless with a sword, would never kill a fly."
Artizea jabbed him with an elbow. "Well then, scorekeeper, what's the verdict?"
Eugene lazily pointed at her. "Your balance is off. Try keeping your shoulders steady, like a cat waiting to pounce. Not like whatever it is you're doing."
Artizea blinked, "Thank you..?"
Arthur chuckled, "Do me next, do me next—"
Eugene swung his finger toward his brother. "And you—"
"I am waiting." Arthur folded his arms with a smirk.
Eugene exhaled painfully. "…Perfection, Arthur, congratulations, you are the winner," he mumbled.
"Exactly!" Arthur snapped, "Maybe you should try sitting in the genie's pool, Artizea. Mother once told me, If you sit in long enough, it will enhance your talents tenfold."
Eugene was officially distracted, finally looking up from his book, "What you speak of is called the gene pool." He corrected, "Mother told you that because you refused to bathe when you were younger."
Artizea and Elaine snickered.
Arthur gawked, "I did bathe, and on time!" he pointed around the circle.
"Then I can only assume what you are trying to achieve is some fragment of humor, maybe even attempting a joke." Eugene droned. "If so— ha ha…"
"Of course it was a joke," Arthur chuckled out forcibly, rubbing the back of his neck.
Amid the laughter and banter, a voice suddenly snapped them back to reality. "Your Royal Highnesses." They turned to see the Artizea's royal knightguard standing at the edge of the training yard. Upon his descent toward them, Arthur's expression immediately turned cold.
"The King and Queen are on their way to the dining hall. They requested your presence within the hour," the royal knight guard said formally.
Artizea cleared her throat, then nodded, "Thank you, Sir Eric. We will be there shortly."
Sir Eric bowed his head, then turned to leave. It could have been the trick of the light, but from the right angle, it looked as if his eyes flickered ever so slightly toward Artizea, with unreadable meaning.
Elaine's grin turned mischievous. "He could not stop staring at you, Sister."
"Or her breasts," Eugene added dryly.
Elaine snickered at the statement.
"Language."Arthur butted in, then shot his (supposed to be innocent) baby sister a warning glance. "Treason."
Elaine scoffed, "But it is true, all he does his hover over you."
"Do not be ridiculous, it is his job to hover," Artizea replied, though a faint blush colored her cheeks. "Besides, it would be—"
"Flat-out treason," Arthur repeated, twirling his practice sword.
"I suppose it could be a tragedy play one day." Elaine said with a mock pout, "The poor lamb doesn't stand a chance at earning the magnanimous Crown Princess's affection," waving her hands for dramatic effect. "Let alone live to tell the tale."
Artizea rolled her eyes, then tossed her sword aside, "Yeah, I'm going to go. Let us see who gets the grand honor of explaining to Father why they are late." She suddenly gasped dramatically, raising a hand to her chest. "Oh no, Father! I had no idea my dear siblings were gossiping like a pair of court maidens instead of making their way to mandatory breakfast!"
"Snitches get stitches," Arthur muttered under his breath.
"You are on your way to get stitches," Artizea mocked while eyeing the cloth he was already wrapping around his arm behind his back.
"Tis a mere scratch," Arthur huffed out.
Elaine giggled once more.
Artizea was not done; she called over her shoulder, "And Elaine…I hope your chaperon did not take too long to find you."
Elaine blinked, "My chaperon…?"
"The one Father assigned to you. The poor lamb was so shaken upon finding out you had left without him, he came to me in tears, so I helpfully told him you were at the falls."
"Did you now…"
"Mhm. But since the falls are not nearly as dangerous as, say, the Humbaba Forest… he should have found you within the hour, assuming you did not wander too far." Artizea said, with a faint smirk
Elaine paled. Oh no. Then dashed toward the stables.
"Hey—!" Arthur called after her, "Do not be late. Do not talk to strangers—and so help me gods if you bring back another wild animal for me to look after! I will skin it and wear it to the Masquerade ball!"
"You said Mr. Stuffins died of old age." Artizea inquired
Arthur smirked. "Ever heard of rabbit stew? Hopper pie? Lapin à la Moutarde?" He licked his lips.
Artizea shot him a glare, then shook her head, striding back toward the palace. The second she was out of earshot, Eugene's eyes narrowed at Arthur, picking up a cloth to wipe his hands.
"You seem to have a personal distaste for our sister's knightguard."
Arthur's hand stilled for a moment before he resumed. "That is because I do." He replied with a sigh.
Eugene tilted his head, raising a brow in rare curiosity, "Did you two not use to be friends?"
"Used to be."
"Does she know?"
"No," Arthur gave him a pointed look. "Nor will she."
"What happened?" Eugene pressed further.
Arthur slung the cloth over his shoulder. "Let us not keep our parents waiting, you know how they get on about tardiness…." he nose crunched as a fat ass fly buzzed in front of his temple of a face. He swatted at it with an annoyed growl.
Eugene rolled his eyes, nonchalantly raising a hand. A tiny spark snapped from his fingers—ZAP—and the fly dropped dead midair.
Arthur froze, hand still mid-swat.
Eugene yawned and walked away, giving him the bird.
Arthur shoved a bird back at him. "That does not count!"
ARTIZEA
Artizea lingered near the grand staircase of the castle corridors. She changed into a simple tunic with a red sash that retained the hue of authority befitting her title. The cool breeze circling among the stone walls provided her a moment of reprieve. Though she fidgeted with her sash in anxiety. As of late, her mind wandered to the back of her mind where she kept the past buried, her heart still raced in a way that had nothing to do with her earlier sparring match. The muffled clatter of wood and canvas caught her attention. Several servants were carefully guiding a large golden frame toward the end of the hall. She slowed her pace, watching as they maneuvered it into position. Their hands were as careful as a priest's handling a sacred relic. Her gaze shifted to the wall, where space was being cleared in preparation for the new portrait. Then, to the previous portrait hanging nearby, standing still and solemn, lit softly by a wall sconce.
Her family.
Her mother's expression was calm and composed, while her father's eyes seemed to follow the viewer wherever they stood. Her siblings stood evenly. Arthur's hand lay at rest on the hilt of a sword. Eugene sat neatly with a book in his lap as always. Her sister leaned into their mother, and there she was, standing at her father's right hand. In every portrait, that was where she always stood, signifying her place in the cycle as the heir.
Artizea stepped closer, reaching out to lightly brush her fingertips along the gilded frame. "Dear Fates," she whispered, "Will there ever come a time when I could just be me?" She exhaled, smoothing a strand of hair behind her ear, then took one last moment of silence before continuing down the hall.
Footsteps echoed down the hall, signaling the approach of someone. She turned to see a knightguard approaching. Hers. For a moment, they both froze.
"Crown Princess," Sir Eric greeted.
"Sir Eric," she said regally, but as he drew closer, her expression shifted, the practiced mask of a princess giving way to something far more personal.
"We should really cease meeting like this," he murmured.
"Then stop seeking me out," Artizea countered.
"It is my job to seek you out, remember."
"If you heard that, then you must have also heard that Arthur does not take kindly to the way you look at me."
Eric's lips curved into a faint smile. "And how do I look at you, Your Highness?"
"Like someone who's forgotten who I am," She attempted to whisper.
"How could I?" he whispered back.
"You are far too free with your speech—"
Artizea froze as Eric suddenly pulled her aside, his hand covering her mouth. Her heart kicked, but she quickly understood while they watched a knight of the queen's knightguard stride past. Eric's eyes flicked around cautiously while waiting until the guard disappeared. Only then did he lower his hand, a wry smile tugging at his mouth.
"Forgive me, Crown Princess. It seems I am far too free with my hands as well."
Artizea arched a brow. "I will pardon you on the assumption that you were saving me from an assassin. Or worse."
"What can I say?" He shrugged lightly. "I take my job very seriously."
She rolled her eyes, though her lips betrayed the faintest curve.
"I wanted to make sure… You were still coming tonight. To the festival."
Artizea's heart skipped a beat. They had planned this for weeks, and it was not going to be easy to pull off such a feat as the Crown Princess, but Eric had a way of making the impossible seem within reach. "I would not miss it," she said at last.
A hint of relief crossed his face. "Everything is ready. Madeline is helping you, correct?"
"She is," Artizea confirmed, "Though I think I am more excited about it than you are."
"That is hard to believe."
Artizea tilted her head, her smile widening. "Are you excited?"
Eric's gaze held hers for a moment longer. "I am. I wish for you to see the city the way I see it, among your people."
Artizea's chest tightened, still realizing they were still pressed together to an extent, "Then I will see you tonight," she said softly, attempting to step away, but His hand brushed hers momentarily, his fingers threading through hers before clasping.
"I should not keep you this long, I would make the history books as The Knight who was executed for making the Crown Princess late for breakfast."
"Do not be silly, I have a few minutes," she giggled, "They will not notice if I am a little late. Arthur and Elaine will distract them with their usual antics, and Eugene will be too facepalmed in a book to notice, as usual."
Eric's laughter made his hazel eyes shine more brightly. "It appears to be another assassin, Crown Princess…" he joked.
Artizea giggled softly. He leaned closer, raising a hand to her cheek, calloused fingers gentle to cup her face. She caught it with deliberate care, slowly tugging at the edge of his glove, slowly peeling it away from his fingers. This time, when his hand rose to her cheek, the warmth of his skin lingered against her. He hesitated only a heartbeat before leaning in, and then his lips brushed hers, grazing the line between treason and instant death, for a few stolen seconds of what if...
"You are right," Artizea murmured, "I should go."
Eric nodded as they parted, his eyes lingering on her for just a moment before he straightened. "Until then, Your Highness.", he slowly bowed his head.
Artizea strode past him and did not look back, but she could still feel the warmth of his gaze. She took a breath, then stepped back into the role she was born to play.