Astrid tilted her head slightly, crimson eyes unreadable. "You're my son."
Lucius met her gaze with a slow, knowing smile. "That I am, Mother."
With steady hands, he twisted her hair into an intricate crown, his touch practiced—almost reverent.
"So, Lucius, how is Alexia?"
He didn't flinch. Instead, a quiet chuckle slipped past his lips. "Sister is well, Mother. I shall extend your… earnest regards to her."
The braided crown tightened ever so slightly.
Astrid hummed in approval. "I'm simply concerned she might be distracting you from your duties. But it's good to hear she's doing well."
"Mother need not worry. I take excellent care of her," he assured smoothly, stepping toward her vanity.
"Since Mother doubts me, I must work even harder," he added, amusement lacing his voice as he reached for her crown, jewelry, and a mirror.
"Ah, I almost forgot." Astrid took the mirror from him, inspecting her reflection. "I sent you a new maid. Velrith. She's a good child."
"Noted, Mother." He carefully placed her crown upon her head, adjusting the jewelry with precise movements.
Through the mirror, Astrid's lips curled into a cold smile. "It always feels wonderful to chat with you, my dear son."
"The pleasure is mine, Mother." Lucius bowed smoothly before turning to leave—his mother still admiring herself in the mirror.
***
Ensuring Inferno wouldn't cause trouble, Alexia exhaled, rolling the fire-heart stone between her fingers. The heart-shaped ruby gleamed under the light, golden spirals twisting across its surface like veins of molten gold.
[Host, have you made your decision?]
Alexia huffed. "Hermes, I snuck out, shed blood, slaughtered over a hundred people, got traumatized, and had to outsmart an ancient guardian—"
[Host, I get it.]
She pressed her thumb against the stone's smooth surface, its warmth seeping into her skin.
"I can't let a moment of weakness throw me off. I need this."
A pause. Her grip tightened.
"I need to prove a point. That I'm strong. That I'm worth the sacrifices."
Without another word, she turned on her heel and strode toward the throne room.
***
Lucius stepped through the towering golden doors of Lugus' temple, his pace unhurried, his expression unreadable. White archways gleamed with what appeared to be holy light, pristine and untouched by time.
A familiar sea of opulence stretched before him—polished gold, embedded gems, and at the center, an enormous golden statue of a man wielding a sword and shield.
Lucius barely spared the idol a glance. Nor did he acknowledge the temple slaves draped in crimson robes, some murmuring fervent prayers, others tending to the statue with careful reverence.
Hypocrisy at its finest.
His lips curled slightly, the thought unspoken as he ascended the spiral staircase, each step carrying him toward a place he found mildly detestable.
At the end of a long corridor, he reached his destination—the High Priest's chambers.
Lucius rapped his knuckles against the door, waiting.
A pale woman answered, her cold, indifferent gaze meeting his without so much as a bow. "Your Highness," she greeted flatly.
"The High Priest is resting. He does not wish to be disturbed."
Her voice, once impassive, softened slightly as she spoke of the priest, reverence seeping into her tone.
Lucius offered a small, courteous bow. "My apologies. I only wish to discuss Slave Aria." His words were smooth, polite, laced with just enough sincerity.
The woman regarded him with blank detachment. "Wait here," she said before shutting the door in his face.
Lucius chuckled, shaking his head. "I do hope concubine mother hasn't been turned into such a puppet."
His golden eyes gleamed as he folded his hands behind his back.
"Well, I suppose I'll find out soon enough."
The door creaked open once more.
Lucius barely concealed his exasperation as he took in the scene before him.
The High Priest lounged on a lavish bed, draped in silk and excess, his long frame stretched out like some divine vision of leisure. Sister really needs to stop idealizing the lanky aesthetic.
At the priest's feet, two women knelt in silence, their crimson robes pooling around them. One rested her head against his knee, while the other pressed delicate fingers against his shoulders in reverent worship.
Lucius watched as the High Priest flicked his wrist.
Dismissal.
The women hesitated, their faces tightening in muted distress—before they obeyed, lowering their heads as they pulled away.
A soft whimper.
Lucius' eye twitched, but his smile remained effortlessly warm.
"Forgive my intrusion," he said smoothly, inclining his head. "I've come to see Slave Aria."
The High Priest's lips curved, his violet eyes glinting as he took his time adjusting his robe. The movement deliberately highlighted the teardrop mole at the corner of his eye.
"Peace be with you, Your Highness," he murmured. "I see you are quite dedicated to this particular slave."
Lucius remained bowed, his posture unwavering. Don't react. Don't bite.
"I have my reasons, High Priest."
The priest hummed, a lazy sound of amusement. "What reasons could a prince possibly have for visiting my favorite slave so frequently?"
Lucius' fingers twitched. His smile widened.
"Would you deny a son the chance to understand his heritage?"
The High Priest chuckled, a quiet, knowing sound. Then, with a flick of his hand—
"You may see her."
Dismissal. Again.
Lucius straightened, his expression unreadable despite the quiet storm brewing in his chest.
Without another word, he turned and walked away.
Behind him, the high priest chuckled, reclining lazily against the plush pillows of his bed. The moment he did, the slaves scrambled back to his side, hands reaching to tend to him.
"My lord, who will sire your heir?" one murmured, kneeling at his feet with reverent eyes.
Another perked up, anticipation gleaming in her gaze.
The high priest smirked, stretching as if the question amused him. "Hmm… I suppose I'll have to give that some thought, won't I?"
Silence.
Then, as if spurred by his words, the women pressed closer, redoubling their efforts to please their master.
***
Standing before the towering dragon onyx doors, Alexia felt small.
The imposing guards acknowledged her with a nod.
"I request an audience with fath—the king." She lifted her chin, willing herself to appear taller, stronger.
The guards exchanged glances, their gazes heavy as they studied her.
Alexia did not waver.
"Please wait here, Your Majesty." Their voices rang in unison before one turned and disappeared inside.
She stood still, heart steady, as moments dragged into minutes.
When the guard finally returned, his face was unreadable.
"I apologize, Your Highness," he said, bowing. "The king does not wish to see you."
Alexia clenched her fists, staring at the guard before shifting her gaze to the towering doors.
[Host… shall I assist you?]
Her body trembled, but her voice was steady. "Do it."
[Affirmative, Host.]
A powerful force surged through the air. The massive onyx doors blasted open, hurling the guards like ragdolls.
Alexia smiled, head held high as she stepped inside. "Thanks, Hermes."
[The pleasure is mine. However, this action has unlocked a quest.]
Her eye twitched. Of course it did.
Alexia inhaled deeply, shoving down her irritation. "Later. After I'm done here."
Unbeknownst to her, a small black cat watched from the shadows.
It let out an unimpressed "Meow," rolled its eyes, and padded away.
"Who dares?"
The words cut through the air like a blade of ice, freezing Alexia mid-step.
She inhaled slowly, steadying herself before striding forward, her focus locked onto the man seated on the throne. The murmuring ministers, dukes, and counts blurred into insignificance. Only her father mattered.
Luther watched her approach with the same detached indifference one might offer a fly that had landed too close.
"You've grown more unruly through the years." His voice was quiet, measured—yet absolute. "Guards. The whip."
A rustle of movement. A ripple of amusement from the nobles.
Alexia didn't flinch. Instead, she knelt—deliberate, controlled. Her voice was clear. Strong.
"My King. I have ventured on a quest to retrieve the Fire Heart Stone and present it to you."
Luther remained still. Then—soft laughter. Low. Dark.
"So you left?" He stepped down from the throne, each footfall unhurried. "Without permission?"
"I did it for you, fath—"
"Enough."
The air shattered.
Alexia's breath hitched, but she didn't move.
Luther exhaled, shaking his head like a man entertained by a child's naivety.
"Alexia, you are weak." He said it so plainly, so effortlessly, that it wasn't an insult—it was fact.
"You haven't left these castle walls in seven years. You are unworthy. How can you possess something as precious as the Fire Heart Stone?"
A guard stepped forward, a barbed whip coiled in his grip.
"Fooling the king is treason."
Her fingers curled around the stone, its warmth pressing against her palm.
"I do have it!" Her voice cracked, desperate, as she lifted the heart-shaped gem.
Silence.
Luther didn't even glance at it.
He turned his back on her.
The dismissal was absolute.
****
Lucius knocked softly on the red door and waited.
"Come in."
The voice inside was cold, tired.
Lucius hesitated before pushing the door open. The lock barely resisted, a flaw that made his fingers curl into a tight fist.
The moment he stepped in, his breath hitched.
A woman stood by the window, her back to him. Dressed in flowing crimson robes, she looked almost ethereal, her long white hair stirring in the breeze. But where others might have seen elegance, Lucius saw the bruises—the deep reds and purples marring her porcelain skin.
"Lex." The name slipped from his lips, barely above a whisper.
A sharp voice cut through his reverie. "High Priest. What do you want?"
Lucius blinked, then chuckled under his breath. Ah. Of course.
"Concubine Mother," he murmured, taking a slow step forward. "I missed you too."
Aria stiffened, the blindfold covering her expression, but the way her fingers twitched against her robes—hesitation, uncertainty—told him enough.
Then, finally—
"Lucius?" she asked, tentatively.
"Yes, Concubine Mother."
A beat of silence. Then, her lips curved into a warm smile, washing away every trace of coldness.
"Lucius!"