ARTIZEA
IT WAS NOT A GOOD MORROW.
Artizea emerged from her chambers with a new resolve etched into her features, her composure unshaken on the surface. But beneath her calm exterior, a storm raged. She headed to the training grounds, seeking the solace of the sword.
Arthur was already there and sparring with another knight; he paused when he saw her approach. "You are up early," he called out, tossing her a practice blade.
She caught it mid-air. "Have to be ready for anything, Nothing new."
"What has gotten into you?"
Artizea did not respond, simply stepping into the ring and signaling for him to engage.
Arthur raised a brow but obliged, meeting her strike with a parry. The clash of their swords echoed across the grounds. She fought with a ferocity He had not seen in years.
"Easy, Tizea," he said, gritting his teeth, blocking another blow. "I am very fond of my limbs, thank you."
But Artizea did not relent, her strikes growing faster and more precise. Arthur finally managed to disarm her, catching her blade and tossing it aside.
"Enough," he said firmly. "What is going on?"
She stepped back, breathing heavily, and wiped the sweat from her brow. "Nothing."
"Something happened."
She hesitated, then shook her head. "There's nothing to talk about, Arthur," she said, bending to retrieve her sword. "Let us go again."
He raised an eyebrow, lowering his blade slightly. "I'm sorry, did you just lie to me?"
"Arthur!" she yelled.
He sighed, shaking his head, then tossed his sword aside, stepping out of the sparring ring.
Artizea blinked. "Where are you going?"
"Is it not obvious?" Arthur said, his voice rising slightly. "Everyone! Saddle up!"
"What?" She stared at him, confused.
Arthur pointed a finger at her, then turned to their other siblings. "Elaine, grab Stolas. Eugene, you are coming too—do not even think about hiding ."
Elaine, who had been secretly watching from the shadows, brightened instantly. "A trail ride?" she asked, her voice bubbling with excitement. "Together!"
Eugene, however, was just passing by. "I have work to do, Arthur." He protested, "Believe it or not, our self-defenses do not actually defend themselves—"
Arthur whistled like a drill sergeant, saying, Fall in line, cutting him off, earning a sigh of defeat from his baby brother.
Before Artizea could process what was going on, He grabbed her wrist and started dragging her toward the stables.
"Arthur," she hissed, trying to pull away. "Let me go!"
"A wise old man once told me a sword cannot fix everything," he said cheerfully, his grip unyielding.
She glared at him. "Now you're taking a leaf out of our brother's book?"
"Exactly that," He said with a grin. "Just Arthur-fying it, so it does not look dumb and boring at the same time."
Despite the protest, the siblings eventually gathered their horses, which were saddled and ready.
Elaine adjusted the bridle. "This is going to be amazing!" she said.
Artizea muttered under her breath as Arthur handed her the reins of her black mare.
"This is ridiculous."
"Maybe," Arthur said with a shrug. "But you are coming anyway."
Once the horses were saddled, the group mounted their horses. They rode in silence at first, the cool air brushing against their faces as they ventured deeper into the forest.
"See, this is nice," Arthur said with a grin.
"You guys should see when the sunsets, it is so peaceful," Elaine said dreamily.
"I see why you enjoy it so much …To get away from everything, even just for a little while," Artizea responded.
Arthur halted until he was beside them, his chestnut stallion snorting when he pulled back on the reins. "We should make this a thing," he said, his voice lighter than usual. "Every week or so. Just us."
"Every week?" Eugene asked skeptically. "There's barely enough time to breathe, let alone frolic around whenever we feel like it."
Arthur rolled his eyes. "Do not be such a buzzkill, Baby Brother."
"I am not a baby—" Eugene muttered, while his gaze pierced Arthur's back, though he softened when Elaine chuckled.
"Maybe Arthur has a point," she said. "We could make it work if we tried really hard, though, right?"
Artizea's smile widened upon listening to her siblings. "Once a week might be ambitious, any takers for two?"
"I think we can manage that." Arthur grinned triumphantly. "Right, Baby Brother?"
Eugene sighed but nodded. "Fine, but I'm bringing my book next time."
The forest trail was lush and shaded, the morrow sunlight filtering through the canopy above. The rhythmic sound of hooves against the dirt path and the occasional chirp of birds created a peaceful atmosphere.
Artizea pulled her mare to a stop, the others following suit. She looked around at her siblings, especially Elaine with her infectious energy, Arthur with his easy confidence, and Eugene with his quiet strength, and felt a sense of calm she had not experienced in months.
Elaine rode close beside Artizea, her braid swaying. "So, what is going on, dear sister?" Her tone was light.
"Nothing," Artizea replied curtly, her gaze fixed ahead.
"Fibber!" Arthur called from the front of the group.
Eugene, riding behind them, sighed. "Is prying into everyone's business your new hobby?"
"More of a chore than a hobby," Arthur huffed, turning slightly in his saddle to smirk. "Consider this a sibling intervention."
Arrtizea rolled her eyes.
"You might as well spill it. Otherwise, Arthur will drag us into some ridiculous bonding exercise." Eugene grumbled.
Artizea finally let out a defeated sigh, tugged on her reins to slow her horse. "Fine. You wish to know what is wrong?" She gestured vaguely toward the forest around them. "Everything. The pressure of the decisions I cannot seem to make fast enough, and the consequences I cannot see coming."
Arthur turned his reins so he could face her.
Artizea met his gaze, then her other siblings. "Everyone's always looking at me to lead, to have all the answers.
The siblings fell silent.
"You are a leader, Tizea. You are our sister." Arthur said firmly, "But you are not supposed to have it all figured out," he said gently, "That is why we are here."
Elaine reached over, placing a hand on Artizea's arm. "To make sure you do not have to do it alone."
"So, we'll keep doing this?" Elaine said, her voice steady. "No matter what?"
Arthur held out his hand, grinning. "All in favor say, Mother's roses."
"Mother's roses!" Elaine chirped, holding out her hand.
"Mother's roses." Artizea rolled her eyes, but extended his hand.
Eugene hesitated for a moment before joining them, "Fine— on mother's roses…" hovering his hand over his mare.
"This," Arthur said softly, looking around to his siblings, "Is what we will fight to protect. Not the crown, not the throne.Us." Her siblings looked at her, their expressions thoughtful. "We Protect each other, no matter what."
Eugene, uncharacteristically, chimed in. "Arthur might be a fool most of the time, but he's right about this and Elaine."
Arthur grinned, "Thank you, Eugene… Pendragon," he drawled, then pouted.
"Aw—" Elaine whined, "Say the word,"
"Say the word!" Artizea echoed, unable to resist joining in.
Eugene's shoulders loosened, the tension bleeding out of him."My pleasure… Big Brother," he muttered.
"That's the spirit!" Arthur barked out a laugh, kicking his horse forward into a lively trot. "Now," grinning over his shoulder. "How should we conclude this fine gathering, musketeers?"
Elaine perked up immediately. "A race?"
"An Excellent Idea, My Sister," Arthur confirmed. "You will be rewarded with knighthood!"
Eugene groaned. "You cannot be serious…"
"I'm always serious," Arthur replied, his grin widening. "First one back to the stables wins."
"You are so on!" Elaine shouted, spurring her mare into a gallop before anyone else could react.
"Hey, no head starts!" he yelled, urging his stallion forward to catch up.
Artizea rolled her eyes. "Come on, genius!" she called out, nudging her black mare into a run, the wind tugging at her hair as the forest blurred around her.
Behind her, Eugene sighed in resignation, "Fine," then joined the race, though his horse's pace was more measured than enthusiastic.
Elaine's laughter rang out while Stolas sprang across the terrain. Despite Arthur's best efforts, he could not close the gap, and by the time they reached the stables. Elaine was already dismounting with a triumphant grin. "I win!" she declared, throwing her arms in the air.
Arthur groaned, sliding off his horse. "I let you win," he muttered, though the glint in his eyes suggested otherwise.
Artizea arrived next, slowing to a stop, while her horse snorted softly. She gave Elaine a wry look while dismounting. "I let you both win."
Eugene arrived last, "My horse went lame," he said dryly.
Elaine laughed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "A match made in heaven."
As they unsaddled their horses and led them into the stalls, the adrenaline from the race gave way to a more subdued atmosphere.
Artizea lingered near her mare, giving her a carrot, to which it nudged her slightly, making her giggle, but her expression was still pensive while stroking the animal's neck.
Arthur noticed and walked over, resting an arm on the stall door. "You have that look again," he said. "What is it now?"
Artizea sighed, "Promise me you will not do anything stupid?"
"I promise."
Artizea hesitated. "I was not being truthful earlier when you asked what was wrong."
"Go on." Arthur straightened, his teasing tone replaced with genuine concern.
She opened her mouth to continue, but was stilled when Elaine's voice rang out from across the stables. "Artizea!" she called, jogging toward them. "Father has requested you."
What does he want now? Artizea thought. She subconsciously started to turn to leave before Arthur caught her hand.
"We will talk later, promise me."
"I promise," she smiled softly.
Arthur watched her go, a mixture of curiosity and worry etched on his face.
Elaine nudged him lightly. "The maids told me what happened last night, and Madeline's gone."
"Did they say why?"
"No, only that she and her stuff were gone before dawn."
Arthur sighed, "I will get to the bottom of it."
Just then, Eugene got a whiff of something unusual, chaotic, and above all, foreign. "I have to go—"
Elaine frowned, "Wonder what is bothering him, too." She shrugged, "Oh well, I stink of victory. Guess I will go freshen up," She giggled, skipping away.
Arthur rolled his eyes, handing his practice sword to a newly sworn trainee.
"When I complete my training, it would be my honor to ride alongside you in battle, Your Highness."
Arthur smirked, the words stirring a flicker of nostalgia. Before he could reply, the sharp clink of armor cut through the air. A front gate's knightguard approached, posture stiff, bowing low before him.
"My Prince," the man said, voice edged with hesitation.
"What is it?"
"There is… something you should know." Urgency strained the knightguard's tone.
Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Sir James," he said, his voice dropping into a hush of authority, "what happens on the first floor, stays on the first floor."
"That is not it, Your Highness, there's more…" Sir James pressed.
Arthur's brow furrowed. "Speak," he commanded.
"I swear to you, your majesty," a man pleaded. "There were two men, and then they were gone—"
Gilgamesh glanced up from the war table, acknowledging Artizea's presence as she approached hesitantly. Arthuria stood beside him as usual, but her presence offered reassurance to both parties. Without looking away, the king spoke to the trembling man off to the side. "You may go."
The man wasted no time, bowing deeply to the king, the queen, "Thank you, Your Majesties," and then to the same crown Princess, "Your Highness," before scurrying out of the throne room.
Artizea raised her brow in confusion, then turned her attention back to her parents; the tension had not budged since the last time they were here. She watched as her father lifted his goblet of wine, downing it in one gulp, clinking as it met the table with a louder echo than expected. She waited for a continuation of where they left off, but what he said next caught her by surprise.
"It has come to my attention that there has been unrest in the northern territories. He said flatly. "You will gather troops and leave at first light. I expect results."
Artizea blinked. "You are sending me away?"
"I am assigning you a task," he replied coolly. "Do you think yourself not capable?"
"No," she replied quickly. "I will take care of it."
"Good,"
Though his tone motioned in dismissal, Artizea was not sure why she stayed infused in he same spot she came in, maybe she was waiting for her father to say something, anything, yet nothing came. She nodded, turning to leave.
"Dearest," her mother called gently. Artizea stopped dead in her tracks at the sound of her mother's voice. Arthuria stepped forward, cupping her daughter's cheek, "Be careful," she said softly. They shared a smile, then moved to the war table, her fingers grazing its weathered edge till its head, where her husband. He had not moved, as if infused with the stone. She tilted her head, studying him, and as always, they were too bright for him to admire for long, so he turned away slightly.
Arthuria sighed, then reached for a book that looked like it belonged buried with a corpse. She glanced over her shoulder, back to the miniature version of him.
"Do not tell Eugene," she whispered, "But I stole this book from the archives, the only piece of northern history that survived the fire, and now you will take it with you," offering it to her.
Artizea blinked once more. "This is a book?" she whispered back
"Hey—Do not judge a book by its cover," her mother mused, opening the book, turning a random page "It may not look like it, but—" she said, holding it out, "When I was a girl, I could not leave my old cottage, I knew neither what shade the grass had been nor what a flower looked like before adolescence," she paused, feeling Gilgamesh's eyes lingering on her, "That was when, a drank an ambitious mage" she light chuckled "named Merlin, one of my late most trusted advisors, began to record everything I needed to know of the North," she held the journal's spine, as if recalling every time she opened it, "The entries may be slightly outdated, but they may yet still offer you guidance." She pressed the book into Artizea's hands, her fingers briefly overlapping hers, "Carry it with you as a beacon of my love, as it guides back home, to us."
Artizea's eyes flicked between her mother's quiet worry and her father's silence. She could not help but feel they both knew what had happened, how she had lost control, once more, and yet still… no one spoke of it. She looked down at the worn journal once more. It felt heavier now, but she clutched it to her chest, giving one final look in her father's direction.
"I will," she said at last, and walked out.
Artizea immediately started to pack her bag to prepare for her 'go, and think about what you did' mission; The journey ahead was to be a long one, seven days to be exact. Granted, nothing should awry. In that moment, she caught sight of the dress she had worn the night of the ball when she first met Eric, who was a trainee at the time. For a moment, she hesitated, her hand brushed against the fabric as the memories of their fleeting first kiss flashed through her mind, but she quickly shook them off. There's no room for distractions, she muttered to herself,pushing the thoughts aside and sending them back to the abyss.
The stables were alive with activity as knights readied the horses and secured provisions for the mission. She stormed past them in the middle, not stopping to address them, "I wish to depart within the hour."
A chorus of "Yes, Your Highness!" followed her.
She stopped at the end of the aisle—right beside Eric, who stood stiffly, helm tucked beneath his arm. He looked the picture of knightly composure… except the way his fingers twitched on the metal.
Artizea didn't look at him. Didn't spare him even a passing glance. "I am certain," she said coldly, "That Sir Eric's services will be of better use here at the palace."
Several knights exchanged alarmed looks."But—Your Highness," one of the captains stammered, "Sir Eric is your—"
"I no longer require a royal knight guard," she cut in, her tone final. Unchallengeable. "My father has none, neither will I." already turning away.
Eric inhaled sharply, "Your Highness," he said, before retreating outside.
"Ensure everything is in order, no delays," she called out once more.
"Yes, Your Highness," one of the knights replied, saluting before hurrying off.
Hurrying to check her designated horse, it shook its head. "You'll be sorry you were this excited when we get to where we're going," Turning to check her gear, not noticing Eugene approaching, his usual calm demeanor tinged with urgency.
"Sister," he said, falling into step beside her. "I need to speak with you."
Artizea glanced at him, her brow furrowing slightly. "Make it quick, we're on a tight schedule."
Eugene hesitated for a moment, then said, "The smell in the air is different. There's a trace of foreign energy lingering in the area. It is faint, but unmistakably strong."
Artizea's hand tightened on the reins of her horse, forcing out a sigh, "And what exactly does that mean?"
"It means you might be walking into a trap. Take me with you," Eugene said, his voice steady. "I have been studying its phenomena. These patterns are not natural. It is as if someone is changing the direction of the wind on purpose."
Artizea blinked, frog-like.
A sigh finally came, Eugene, "I know this probably sounds crazy, but I am a thousand percent sure that is why whoever is behind such craft knew it would be a great plan."
Artizea's patience was wearing thinner by the second. "Eugene, I do not have time for your theories right now. I have a mission to complete, and I cannot risk delaying it on a whim."
"It is not a whim," Eugene insisted, stepping in front of her. "I am telling you what I have observed in my studies, and you need to listen to me." his hand hovered over his spell-book, his fingers twitching in thought.
"Not everything is magic, Eugene," Artizea interrupted, rolling her eyes. "Sometimes a smell is just a smell."
"But it is not just a smell," he countered. "It could be witchcraft! Or worse, celestial energy, I have been sensing it for weeks—"
"Enough!"She finally snapped, standing abruptly. Her sword clattered against the stone bench while she shot him an exasperated look. "You are not coming. You overthink everything. We have real battles to fight, Eugene, not these… these imaginary threats."
He stiffened, his eyes narrowing. "Imaginary threats? Is that what you think of my work? Just some childish game? Is that it?"
"If you spent half as much time training with a blade as you do with those books, maybe you would be more useful enough to come," she fired back, her words cutting deeper than she intended.
His cheeks flushed with anger and hurt. "Not all of us can be the perfect warrior, Crown Princess," he said bitterly. "Some of us have to use our minds because we were not born with your strength or your dragon spirit."
She flinched at the mention of a part of herself she often feared and resented,
"If you were not so blinded by your arrogance," He countered, his voice shaking with fury, "Maybe you would see that my magic has saved your life more times than your precious sword ever has!"
Artizea's retort died on her lips as something within her shifted. A low, guttural growl escaped her throat, and the room seemed to grow warmer—no, hotter. The swords and shields lining the walls began to glow faintly, their metal surfaces radiating an unnatural heat.
Eugene stepped back instinctively, "Sister."
Artizea's pupils slit into narrow ovals, her crimson irises glowing like embers. Something within her stirred, responding to her anger, feeding off it. The armor hanging nearby remained untouched by the heat, its enchantments protecting it from the surging power. But everything else —the weapons, the buckles, even the tools —began to sizzle, the air thick with tension. She clenched her fists, taking a shuddering breath, fighting to regain control. The heat receded slowly, the metal cooling, though the air still crackled with latent energy.
"I did not mean…" she frustrantly began, though she could not bring herself to finish the sentence.
"You are not just a warrior. You're—"
"I know what I am." She snapped, and through the fire in her voice flickered a touch of guilt.
She slowly forced herself to calm down; the heat began to dissipate as the shimmering haze around her faded, and the tension in the air eased. The knights exchanged uneasy glances, muttering among themselves while they retrieved their weapons.
He shook his head, his brow furrowed. "If you lose yourself in a real battle, it will not be just practice swords that burn, you do know that, right?"
She looked down at her hands, now steady but still warm to the touch. Her heart thudded heavily in her chest, the echoes of her unleashed power humming beneath her skin like a caged beast.
She turned away, shaking her head. "I will not risk you."
"Fine," he said quietly, "Just be prepared."
Artizea froze for a moment. Then, she focused on adjusting the straps of her saddle, climbing back onto her mare. The rhythmic sound of hooves on stone announced another rider joining the group. "Eugene, I already told you, you are not coming—"
Arthur scoffed, "Do I look like a garden elf to you?" he said, with sarcastic disgust upon trotting up beside her with a crooked grin. Oddly enough, he did. "And then there were two," he sang.
Artizea arched an eyebrow, her tone sharp. "What are you doing here, Arthur?" He shrugged, his grin widening. "Joining you."
"You are not—" she said firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument. "You are staying behind."
Arthur's grin faded slightly, and his expression turned serious. "And let you ride off to Angle Point alone? Not a chance."
"I am not alone," she countered, gesturing to the gathered knights around her. "I have more than enough men."
"You might be the Crown Princess, but I am still your brother," he had said when she tried to dissuade him.
Her jaw tightened, her grip on the reins firm. "It is dangerous."
"Exactly why you need me," Arthur said, leaning forward in his saddle. "My most sincere Apologies if you felt I was asking."
Artizea stared at him, with twisted features, then huffed, "Fine, I yield…"
"Whatever helps you sleep at night—" Arthur said, smirked, settling comfortably in his saddle, where he never meant to get off. He scanned the gathered group. "We are wasting daylight. Let's go!" he called out to the party.
"Sir!" the knights said in union as they departed.