Cyrelas was born to be a soldier.
His parents had already welcomed a baby girl into the gentle breezes and cloudy days of Autumn, the process of molding her into their future queen already put into motion the minute she was able to say her first words. The General of Autumn - his mother, General Nocadia, wanted an heir as well though. Not as a child to love, but as a child to shape into a warrior. Queen Minte Tedmund of the Autumn Court gave into her wife's demands after two long rotations around the sun. Leading to the Prince of Autumn being born out of an act of surrender, and that is exactly why his Queen hates him.
Perhaps the reason she had not only entertained the idea of him being married to the Crown Prince of Spring but outright accepting the proposal altogether. To relish in the discomfort of her second born. Cyrelas knew the best way to siege a fortress, command legions of soldiers, disarm someone with one hand behind his back, and yet his Queen mother thought it best for him to settle down away from her stone court. Despite his reasonings to think the idea utterly insane, deep down, he knew the silent and important demands this arrangement put on him.
Find information, and report back.
He could only guess it was because of Springs most recent alliance with Winter. The Winter Queen getting married to the second born of Spring was a concern he had not heard the end of when news of it entered the Autumn Court. How lucky that he was next in line for this ridiculous show of peace through tying two unsuspecting persons together for the rest of gods know how long. This whole arrangement had thrown his emotions into a state of wildfire.
He had been trained since birth to be calm and levelheaded. To be straight and orderly. And he liked it that way. But he was given hardly anytime to process anything before he was being shoved above ground to make the trip to Spring. His second in command, Lady Saeri Jorah, his only company for the carriage ride there.
Her blonde hair was braided and sat on her head, her helmet placed at her side for now. Her orange eyes were framed with black makeup, and she wore simple fabric like him. Nothing to restrict movement, very military, but in a cherry red color instead of his dark mossy green. His eyes found her face, and he noticed the slight curl of her lips as she stared at his hands.
He didn’t even realize he had been clenching them until he followed her line of sight. A sign of nerves, a sign of weakness. He immediately unclenched them, thankful for his helmet as he glared at her from behind it. “Have you been briefed?” he asked, instead of saying something he might regret. Simple military talk was always easier for him than anything real.
She nodded, her sharp eyes trailing up to his helmet as if she was looking him in the eyes, her lips piercing for a second before she spoke, “Your mother briefed me on our way out.”
“What did she say?’ he asked a bit too quickly.
She frowned, and he could feel his body wither slightly under her gaze. He truly needed to get his feelings in order “She told me it was none of your concern. All you need to worry about is acting well behaved, and to not bring unwanted attention to yourself.”
He scoffed. “Of course. That sounds exactly like her.”
She tilted her head, as if trying to analyze his face even though she couldn’t see it. Her long fingers falling onto her knees as she slightly leaned forward. He hated how obvious she was when she was trying to read him, and she hated even more that she was usually right when she did so. “Is this engagement getting to you already?”
He frowned. “No. It’s not. And if you continue to ask anymore silly questions like that I’ll make sure you never do again.”
“Understood, General,” She huffed, leaning back once again in her seat. A few beats of silence passing between them as more and more colors came into vision.
Cyrelas paused, almost not even going to ask the question, but spoke anyway, “And if it was true, that the engagement was getting to me, what would you say?”
She raised an eyebrow. “And that isn’t a silly question?”
He didn’t say anything, just waited for her to respond in tense silence. She sighed, straightening her back. “I’d say that there no need. You don’t have to pretend to love him or care for him. You don’t even need to pretend to like him. This engagement will happen either way. They need the ally of Autumn. After allying with Winter, they know our relationship is rocky now. All you have to do is pretend that you are there to be their ally in the first place.”
He clicked his tongue, disapproval in his voice, “Now I know there is something my family, and you, aren’t telling me. I know the unspoken rule of any ridiculous mess I end up in is to try and find anyway I can to help our court get an upper edge on the rest, but pretending to be their ally? Are we really going to be going to war with Spring?”
She simply looked at him, her cherry stained lips curling once again as her eyes searched his mask. As if trying to give him a hint without saying anything out loud, like a bird might hear and talk to someone who could understand. It dawned on him then, “Ah, not Spring.”
“No,” she said, “Not Spring.”
He hummed in acknowledgement, eyes going down to his perfectly clasped hands. He could almost feel the Winter air in his lungs, sharp and stinging. “I suppose you’re right Lieutenant General, there is nothing to worry about in Spring.”
Lady Saeri nodded firmly as their carriage pulled up to the front gates of the castle. Both of them noted the protective barrier as they went through, storing the information away for later. Saeri looked out the window, sliding on her helmet as she took in outside. “It’s large. The castle, I mean,” Saeri pointed out. Cyrelas nodded.
“Well, that isn’t always a bad thing. Maybe less protection with guards spread more thin. And more entry points. More places to hide as well,” he spoke. Cyrelas and Saeri always played this type of game together, on how hard or easy it would be to take control over a well guarded building. Also quickly finding the best hiding spot at political gatherings did come in handy sometimes. “Yes, well. If there is more guards to cover the ground, that would make things more tricky, wouldn’t it,” she pointed out.
He nodded, looking over the castle as they approached. “Well, you see, right there,” he spoke, pointing to a spot on one of the far top sides of the castle with his gloved hand. “An entry point with no guard. That’s the place where I’d go first,” he said. Saeri hummed thoughtfully, their game put on pause as the carriage stopped. Cyrelas could only be curious on why there would be no guard there for only a second before his Lieutenant General opened the door and stepped out of their ride first.
Cyrelas quickly followed, albeit a bit more slowly. His large black wings made him a powerful flier, but a larger target. He almost let out a breath of relief when he was able to walk out smoothly without bumping them against the door. He tucked him into his back, his dark eyes shooting to a guard approaching them. He looked tired, like he had been walking for days. “Greetings, Your Highness, my Lady,” he bowed, before standing to his full height. His eyes flickered between the two of them nervously, “I am Sire Hyliear, member of the Royal Guard. Here to escort you to the royal family and their guests.”
Saeri raised an eyebrow, apparently finding herself unimpressed. Cyrelas couldn’t blame her. “Alright, lead the way then.”
In no time they made it, Cyrelas only had a second to steel his nerves before the doors opened and a voice from nowhere announced his arrival. He was already internally groaning inside as all eyes turned to him and Saeri. She simply scoffed, walking in like she owned the place. Immediately looking for something to drink. Cyrelas was less bold, his eyes scanning the room from behind his helmet to find a target to conversate with until it was acceptable for him to leave. His dark eyes landed on the Crown Prince, and he immediately regretted scanning the room.
Prince Runael looked different than he had imagined. The thought entirely spooked him.
He didn’t even bother with processing the Winter Queens presence, instead, opted for doing the diplomatic thing and greeting his future husbands parents. He knew how to do that, at the very least. He very quickly spotted the current King of Spring, his husband, their armies commander, right at his side. That was someone who he could at least hold a conversation with. He walked over, ignoring the eyes following his movements and the murmurs accompanying them.
King Ulan, unlike his son, was exactly as he imaged him to be. His aura screamed relaxed. While the King consort, Gonel, despite sporting a warm smile, stood as if he had stood a thousand lifetimes and could give a thousand more. Cyrelas walked over, both of their eyes finding his helmet. He bowed perfectly, just like stone, just like he practiced. Before he saluted the Commander of Springs army, his form much more practiced as he put his dark eyes on Gonel. “Your Majesties. Its an honor to meet you,” he spoke, his voice sure despite what he felt inside.
Ulan smiled, first to speak, “Ah, yes. Pleasure to finally meet my sons future husband as well. I wasn’t sure about this engagement when we made this arrangement in the beginning, but seeing as how our daughters engagement has turned out, well…” the King trailed off, his eyes soft as he looked at something in the distance. Cyrelas followed his line of sight, his eyes finding Princess Anaea.
He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he allowed himself to look at his fiancé again, but only for a second as his eyes turned from Prince Runael, to Queen Irene, to Lady Venus (who he cringed at upon recognizing), and a knight he did not know that was looking at him like he wanted to tear his throat out. Cyrelas narrowed his eyes, but quickly turned away to look at the king once more. “That must be…wonderful,” he said awkwardly, not knowing what else to say.
It was Gonel's turn to speak, saving him from his lack of practice at small talk as the man eyes found his helmet. “I hear you’re a General now. Congratulations. You’ll have to come down to the training room at some point and show your talents to my knights. I’m sure they’d love to see someone with your military experience in action.”
Cyrelas nodded, “I’d be honored.”
Suddenly it was quiet, and he had no idea what to say. He awkwardly shifted in place, before he was saved as Saeri came back to his side, drink in hand now. She bowed and saluted at the King and General respectively, before speaking, “I’m terribly sorry. I must borrow my Prince for a moment.”
They were both excused and Cyrelas almost thanked her as she dragged him away from that conversation. “What is it?” he asked, letting her shove a drink in his hand, despite having no intention to take his helmet off, when they finally found a wall to simply converse. They talked briefly about things before they too fell into silence, albeit this one much more comfortable. They both hated large gatherings, so they’d often find each other in parties simply to have a reason to not talk to others. And while the Autumn Court left no room for either of them to fester any kind of love for one another, they had a certain kind of friendship where they understood each other better than anyone.
“That knight is still glaring at you,” Saeri said after a long while.
Cyrelas trailed his eyes back to where his fiancé stood, the knight right beside him with a look of death in his features. “So he is.”
Saeri smirked, a slight flush to her cheeks from the wine. “And are you going to do anything about it?”
He scoffed. “I thought my mission was to not cause problems.”
She murmured something about the knight “making her annoyed” as she sipped more of her drink. He sighed, taking the cup out of her hands, despite the noise of protest that left her throat after. “Maybe we should depart. We’ve tortured ourselves enough with this. Don’t you agree?”
“We can leave…” she paused, yanking the cup out of his hands and back into hers. “...After you talk to that knight. While I agree that you shouldn’t cause a scene, it’s obvious he wants too. Maybe you should avoid a spontaneous heated conversation by having it now.”
“You’re impossible,” he glowered.
“And you need a drink,” she shot back.
“And you need far less,” he hissed. She scoffed, taking a sip of her drink in protest. He only groaned, his eyes trailing to the still full cup in his hands. He let a gloved finger trail along the edge of it, his reflection looking back at him as he looked down at the liquid. His helmet hiding his true self behind its black metal. He slowly brought his hand up, taking off the helmet in one motion, he looked directly at his Lieutenant General, her expression shocked at his action, before he took a small sip of his drink.
It was sweet and spiced, a drink he’d never tasted before. He found he rather enjoyed it.
He was about to put his helmet back on, when he paused and then snapped his black eyes to the knight who kept looking at him. He raised an eyebrow, giving him an unimpressed look, welcoming any kind of challenge, before he put his helmet back on. Shoving his unfinished drink into Saeri's freehand. “If you’re done with your slight rebellion against being a wallflower, can we leave now?”
│
