ARTHUR & ARTIZEA
The palace was alive with music, laughter, and the glow of golden lanterns. But all ceased to exist for a moment when Artizea arrived. As she descended the grand staircase into the main hall, the crowd erupted into cheers.
Nobles from every corner of the kingdom were gathered, their elaborate gowns and tunics a testament to the occasion's significance. The golden accented decorations shone bright under the chandeliers, the banquet tables laden with delicacies, and musicians played a lively tune to set the celebratory mood.
Arthur was the first to greet her at the foot of the staircase. He extended a hand with a small smile. "You cleaned up well," he teased gently. Artizea took his hand, allowing him to escort her to the center of the room. "Like I had a choice," she said with a faint smirk, through her eyes betrayed a hint of gratitude.
"The kingdom needs a prince, my king. The heir should be Arthur Pendragon, Your Majesty, regardless of the specifics of the hour he might have been born…" Syria's councilman insisted.
Arthur and Artizea paused outside the council chamber, their footsteps quieting as voices rose within. A beat of tense silence.
"Then it is settled, Artizea…Pendragon is the firstborn daughter of the realm. She is my heir, am I making myself clear?"
The council murmured, some in agreement, most in disbelief.
Arthur swallowed hard, exchanging a look with his sister, with a question he had been carrying for years. Later, after the chamber emptied, he found their mother, Arthuria, standing near the old portrait hall.
"Mother…" he asked softly, "Why must we pretend we are not twins?"
Arthuria's expression softened, a quiet sorrow flickering in her eyes. "Because sometimes," she whispered, "Some miracles are meant to be kept secret."
Arthur lowered his gaze. "But why?"
Arthuria's thumb traced his cheekbone, gentle and aching. "For peace…" She cupped his cheek, brushing back his hair. "Your births were no doubt a gift from the gods themselves. The world is not yet ready to know what the two of you are capable of together or your true purpose."
Arthur breathed out slowly. "If Artizea is meant to be queen, what is my purpose, mother?"
Arthuria's gaze warmed, full of a mother's impossible love. "To protect it all…including her," she said.
The first dance of the evening belonged to her and her brother. The crowd watched in awe as they moved in perfect harmony, their steps a reflection of their bond. As the first notes of the waltz played, Artizea sighed and placed her hand in Arthur's. "I hate these boring waltzes," she muttered under her breath, though a mischievous gleam sparked in her eyes.
Arthur smirked as he led her onto the dance floor. "I know," he whispered back. He spun her gently.
Artizea arched an eyebrow. "What do you have in mind, little brother?" Arthur chuckled as they assumed the formal starting position."You barely beat me by a year and some moons," he winked. "But since you are so wise and experienced, let's put those dance lessons from Lady Walter to use, shall we?"
The mention of their mother's demanding etiquette classes made Artizea laugh softly, memories of their youthful bickering during dance practice flashing through her mind. "Fine," she said, her grin growing. "But don't blame me if you trip."
As the music began in its usual elegant rhythm, Arthur leaned in and said quietly. With a sudden twist, he spun her out, disrupting the traditional waltz pattern and eliciting gasps from the watching crowd. Artizea caught on immediately, her golden dress flaring dramatically as she moved with him. The music picked up pace as if responding to their energy, transforming the waltz into a fast, upbeat rhythm. The crowd murmured in awe as the siblings danced with a vibrant, almost rebellious flair. Arthur executed a quick series of turns, passing Artizea under his arm, and she responded by pulling him into a lively series of spins.
"Not bad for someone who got scolded because he used to step on my toes during practice," Artizea quipped, her voice just loud enough for him to hear.
Arthur laughed. "That was years ago! And if I recall, you were the one who kept forgetting the steps."
"I was improvising, as were you!" She shot back, grinning as they executed a synchronized leap and landed perfectly in step.
Artizea lingered behind as Arthur followed their mother down the hall. She tugged softly at Gilgamesh's sleeve.
"Father…?"
Gilgamesh looked down, surprised to see worry trembling in his daughter's eyes. "What troubles you, Daughter?"
Artizea's voice was barely a whisper. "Am I… taking something from Arthur?"
Gilgamesh knelt instantly, meeting her at eye level. "My child," he said gently, "If anything, you are sparing him."
She frowned. "But… what if something happens to you and Mother—" She gulped, her little hands twisting together. "What if they turn on me? Like they did to her?"
For a moment, Gilgamesh's expression softened with grief. "Your mother was regrettably alone," he said quietly. "You will never be. Even our eyes must close one day, and when they do, you will have two brothers sworn to you… and a sister far too wild for instruction, but she will listen to you."
Artizea let out a tiny laugh through her nerves, and Gilgamesh chuckled with her.
"But more importantly," he said, lifting her chin, "You carry with you great power, stronger than any king before you."
Artizea blinked. "Stronger than you?"
"Yes… stronger than me."Gilgamesh smiled. "But the four of you… are the strongest this realm has ever known." He rested a hand over her small heart. "And their loyalty is your greatest shield."
Arthur spun her gracefully, and as the music swelled, Elaine and Eugene joined in. Elaine tugged Artizea's hand, pulling her into a circle, while Eugene, always reluctant to partake in such frivolities, found himself dragged in by Elaine's insistence. Now the four siblings stood in a circle, holding hands as they stepped in and out, their laughter echoing through the hall.
"Together," Artizea thought, her usually poised demeanor softened as she laughed freely, her eyes shining with genuine happiness.
The nobles, caught up in the infectious joy of the royal siblings, began to pair off and join in, forming circles of four around the dance floor. The entire hall seemed to come alive, the lines of formality blurring as laughter and music filled every corner.
At the royal table, Gilgamesh and Arthuria watched their children with pride. Arthuria's smile was the brightest in the room, her eyes never leaving her children as they danced. She turned to her husband, her expression warm and content.
"Thank you, my love," she said softly.
Gilgamesh's gaze met his, his smile deepening. "Thank you…" His eyes softened, and he placed a hand over hers.
They stood side by side as they watched their children continue to dance in the center, their laughter ringing out like a melody of its own. The hall erupted in cheers and applause as the dance came to an end. The siblings bowed together, hand in hand, to the crowd, flushed with exhilaration.
"Still hate waltzes?" Arthur asked as he straightened.
"I still hate boring ones," she replied, breathless but laughing. As they stepped off the dance floor, Arthur nudged her playfully.
"You have to admit, I make a pretty good dance partner; I shall add it with the rest of my talents to assure my future wife she is in good hands."
Artizea rolled her eyes, though her smile did not fade. "That is, if she can look past your first love for the sea."
Arthur chuckled, "Happy birthday, Tiz," he said sincerely.
She glanced at him, her gaze softening. "Thank you, and… thanks for not stepping on my toes this time."
As the palace buzzed with the excitement of the ongoing celebration, Eugene approached Artizea, who was chatting with Arthur near the banquet table.
"This time, I have my three eyes on you…"
"Yeah, yeah, I know.." Elaine Sulked.
"Artizea," Eugene interrupted, "I need you to come with me. There's something I need to show you."
Artizea raised an eyebrow. "Eugene, if this is about some new spell you have learned, now's not the time."
"It is not a spell," he denied, carefully choosing his words. "It's… well, you have got to see it for yourself."
Arthur smirked, clearly intrigued. "What kind of surprise are you planning, Brother?
"Yeah, you are not usually this cryptic," Elaine added.
"Just—trust— me." He grumbled, offering his hand. "It's important."
Artizea sighed, giving him a skeptical look, but eventually relented. "Fine, where are we going?" infusing their palms as he guided her threw the crowd.
"To the roof of the palace," He said quickly.
"The roof?" She frowned. "Why?"
"It has the best vantage point for… well, you will see," Eugene deflected, avoiding her gaze.
Suspicious but intrigued, Artizea followed him. As they ascended the steps of the towering structure, she could not help but notice Eugene's nervous energy.
"If this is some elaborate prank you and Arthur cooked up, I swear—"
"It is not a prank!" He interrupted, almost too loudly. At least he hoped not.
Curiosity piqued, she excused herself and ascended the winding staircase leading to the view of the night sky. When they reached the top, the cool night air greeted her as she stepped out. Even the stars looked suspiciously brighter than usual, like jewels against the velvet sky. She was about to question Eugene again when she noticed a figure emerging from the shadows. Her breath hitched at the sight before her. Standing there was a magnificent Pegasus. His coat gleamed with silver, his wings shimmering like molten gold streaks, like he was straight out of a dream. It almost reminded her of—
"Fin?" she whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief and lingering frustration. She turned to her brother, who had already started retreating down the stairs. "Eugene, what—" but she turned to see his raised hand in farewell before disappearing.
The Pegasus pawed at the ground, his intelligent eyes meeting hers. "Happy birthday, Your Highness." His voice undeniably matched the same mischievous bird.
She blinked, taking a hesitant step closer. "You can shapeshift..?"
He tossed his head, his mane rippling like liquid silver. "On special occasions."
Artizea's brows furrowed, her heart clenching at the mention of Rhyssand and the possibility of Fin being a demon all this time, though that was not the question she wished to ask. "What do you want, Fin?" she asked.
He stepped closer, "I am merely fulfilling the wish of the princess who wished to ride a pegasus."
She snorted, "I was five years old."
He nodded, lowering his head. "Climb on."
She hesitated, her emotions warring within her. But as she looked into Fin's eyes, she saw the sincerity there—the loyalty he had always shown her, even when she pushed him away. With a deep breath, she stepped forward and placed a hand on his neck, marveling at the warmth and strength beneath her palm. "Fine," she muttered, swinging herself onto his back. "But if I fall, I will be holding your new master accountable."
"Hold on tight," Fin said, spreading his massive wings.
With a powerful leap, he launched into the air, his wings beating rhythmically as they soared above the palace. She gasped, clutching his mane as the wind whipped past her face. Below, the city of Babaloniyah stretched out in glittering splendor, but her eyes were drawn upward—to the stars that seemed to grow brighter with each passing moment.
"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice barely audible over the rush of wind. "You will see," he replied.
As they climbed higher, the air grew cooler, and the stars above seemed almost within reach. Fin tilted his wings, gliding gracefully toward a secluded lake surrounded by ancient oaks and bathed in silver moonlight as he angled his descent.
Artizea slid off Fin's back as they landed, her heels crunching softly against the grass. Faster than she cried to admit, she spotted Rhyssand standing by the edge of the lake, his golden eyes reflecting the light of the stars above. The sight of him stirred a flurry of emotions—anger, longing, and something she could not quite name.
His gaze was fixed upward at the stars, but when he sensed her presence, he turned to face her. "You came," he murmured, his voice carrying a mixture of relief and vulnerability.
She crossed her arms, her expression guarded. "Fin dragged me here."
For a moment, he did not answer. Instead, he stepped closer, his eyes fixed on her with a mixture of hesitation and determination. "As always, you outshine the stars on their best nights," he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that made her chest tighten. "Happy birthday, Tizea," he said softly, his voice carrying an unfamiliar vulnerability.
Her expression hardened. "Yeah, I get it, it is my birthday—does everyone have to make a big fuss like It is my last?" She paused in reflection that it could have been connected, she shook off the dark thoughts, "You have got some nerve," she snapped, "If this is some ploy to get back into my good graces, you are wasting your time—"
But the words had lost her when Rhyssand had stepped even closer, his gaze soft but unwavering. "I know you did not wish to see me," he began.
"Do not," she corrected.
"—But I could not let today pass without seeing you—" he added quickly. "Gods, you're beautiful…" He admitted.
She crossed her arms, trying to maintain the barrier she had built. Her gaze was steady as he took a step closer. "Don't. I mean it."
Rhyssand's heart cracked, though he held it together; he extended his hands toward the night sky, and a soft glow began to emanate from his palms. He whispered words in the angelic tongue, "Let there be light," he murmured a language older than time, and the sky responded. "I want to give you something worthy."
Artizea followed his gaze. Her heart skips a beat as she notices a star brighter than the others. It sat close to a smaller, dimmer one, almost cradling it in its light. The two stars shone together, one brighter, one softer. Her breath caught in her throat as the sky above lit up with a cascade of shimmering lights—stars, each one glowing brighter than she had ever seen, its brilliance unmistakable.
It felt like a sign. It felt like him. Her rhys.
"He's a fool," Fin muttered beside her, voice warm with affection. "But he's your fool."
Rhyssand shot him a glare sharp enough to cut stone.
Fin flooped his ears in surrender. "Fine, fine…" he sighed, his voice barely audible as she stared at the dirt. He then flopped into the grass dramatically like an offering, in case she decided to abandon Rhyssand and walk away.
Artizea snorted despite herself.
Rhyssand, still glaring at Fin, moved a little closer to her—quiet, uncertain, waiting. The stars overhead pulsed again, as if reminding her that some things in the universe were meant to align.
Her heart clenched as she stared at the celestial display. "What is this? What do you want with me, Rhyssand?"
"I made that for you," he said, his voice tender. "The larger star is yours—strong, brilliant, untouchable. And the smaller one…" He paused, his gaze flickering to hers. "Is me."
"Why?" she whispered sternly.
"Because no matter what happens." Rhyssand said, stepping closer, This time she did not protest, 'You will never be alone in my sky." Another, "I will always be by your side," then another, "Even if you don't wish me there, you can wish for anything of me, and I shall grant it. Anything in my power is yours for the taking. You need only ask it of me…"
Her breath hitched as emotions warred within her. She wanted to stay angry, to push him away, but his words and the sight of the stars pierced through her defenses. Tears glistened in her eyes as she looked up to face him. The tension that had simmered between them erupted into a wild, passionate storm. He reached for her, finally, and he watched as her veins now faded beneath his touch. He had no intention of connection; he just needed to know she was clear, that she was stable, that she was okay in person, before retreating above the clouds for good… That was the plan.
"I am not asking for forgiveness," Rhyssand said quietly. "Truthfully, I am not asking for anything. I just wanted you to know that what we had was real to me." He hesitated. "There is something I must tell you… A truth, the whole truth… and nothing but the truth."
She stared at him as though the question itself were a wound. "Are you insane?" she breathed, her voice trembling.
Rhyssand froze.
"You think I need another reminder of the man who plotted to kill me? Who used me? Who lied—" her voice cracked, "—to me? How can I trust anything you say now? How can I trust you?"
"You can't…" he said softly. "That is why I am not staying."
Her breath hitched. "Why?"
"Why would I?" His tone faltered, frustration bleeding through. "You're confusing me, Tizea—"
"You said any wish in your command, I could ask."
"Yes…" he said warily.
"Then stay."
He blinked, a slow, almost painful silence stretching between them. "I am afraid I do not understand," he murmured. "Normally, I speak fluent human language—"
"Good gods in hell, Rhys," she snapped, stepping forward. "Shut up—" she grabbed him by the collar, "—and fuck me."
Her lips crashed into his, and for a heartbeat, he questioned if this was all a dream, when he came to the conclusion he was not, whatever restraint he had left splintered, and he pulled her against him, the world falling away.
Tears blurred her vision as his warmth pressed into her, and the walls she'd built began to crack, brick by stubborn brick. The anger melted first, then the grief, leaving only the unbearable truth—she still loved him.
When they broke apart for a moment, they stood in silence, the tension between them easing as the stars above bore witness. Rhyssand stared at her, his carefully laid plans unraveling. He should tell her the truth.
As the tension in the air thickened, Rhyssand tried to speak, his voice a mix of urgency and vulnerability. "Artizea, there's something I need to—"
In a swift motion, her hands gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly as she yanked him to the ground, capturing his lips in a fierce kiss. It wasn't soft or tentative—it was full of fire, a clash of emotions too tangled to be expressed in words.
Fin watched them with a satisfied flick of his tail upon rising, then spread his wings and took off into the night, transforming into a sparrow to give them the privacy they needed. "I don't get paid enough for this," he called over his shoulder.