Ceremus kept his gaze fixed ahead, his jaw tightening as he resisted the pull of Hael's presence. He could feel the weight of those eyes on him, threatening to undo his resolve. One glance, and he knew he'd be lost.
"As I thought, I'm still not used to all of this. The minute I start to relax, I feel consumed by his breath, his warmth, and his scent. It's too much." He sighed.
The king made his way down the stairs, walking towards the entrance where Loki had taken refuge by the windowsill. Opening one eye, the bird was surprised to see Ceremus standing there. "What happened to sharing a room with Hael?" He questioned.
The king let out a long and frustrated sigh. "…I'd rather not say."
The bird tilted his head before shrugging. "Well, I don't mind sharing a space as long as you don't snore." He said.
"Likewise."
Meanwhile, in another room, the mother caressed her child's cheek before setting him down. She made her way towards the corner of the room and removed her garments, revealing a head full of midnight blue hair. With her face now uncovered, she revealed her porcelain face, flawless and unmarred with any stain or blemish. She was breathtakingly beautiful with blueish green eyes that shined even in the room's dim light.
She changed out of her black garbs for a simple white one to go to sleep with. Her mission instructions were to dress inconspicuously to avoid attention.
Her directions were clear: seduce the king, and capture the golden aegis and spatha from him. Now it was simply a matter of enacting her plans.
"But how shall I seduce him? It doesn't look like enchantment is going to work given his divine blood." She thought out loud.
She returned to the sleeping baby, covering him with her arms as she laid on the floor next to him. "I suppose I'll have to do it the good old-fashioned way, then." She whispered before closing her eyes.
Morning finally came and Hael laid in his makeshift bed, deep in thought. He couldn't help thinking back to the panicked expression he saw on Ceremus' face the other night. It was quite the shock to the guard, given how rare it was to see the proud king look so distressed. He'd seen Ceremus with a terrifyingly calm demeanor when faced with the most ferocious of beasts and monsters, yet this was the first time he'd seen him look so helplessly lost.
He wondered if he was the cause after all. Perhaps he should've asked for permission this time, or maybe—and Hael hoped this wasn't the case, but maybe Ceremus didn't like him as much as he thought he did.
A dull pressure suddenly settled in his chest, an ache that refused to fade no matter how many times he shifted in his makeshift bed. His eyes burned with exhaustion, but sleep evaded him, leaving him to toss and turn through the suffocating silence of the night.
When he caught sight of the king the following morning—who looked to be in conversation with Marcus, he wasn't sure if approaching him the way he was now was a good idea. He still needed to come to terms with Ceremus' rejection, and what he'd do to apologize for his blunder.
He realized that whenever it came to Ceremus; he was always making a mess of things. There was no keeping his composure when he was around. Before he could contemplate further, he felt a presence next to him. He looked down and saw the mother and child. Her gaze was on Ceremus, watching him intently before looking up at Hael.
"Ah, good morning sir…. I'm sorry, I don't think I got your name." She said.
"Oh, right, we haven't formally introduced ourselves." My name is Hael; I work as the king's guard." He said.
The mother's eyes widened when she heard this. "The king's guard? As in the official guard of the…" her eyes swept the room and landed on Ceremus, "king?"
Hael nodded. "I see. I didn't know I was in the presence of royalty. I suspected he was an important man given the entourage he is with, as well as his countenance, but I never believed…I must apologize for my boorish behaviour." She said in a panic.
The guard furrowed his brow, not understanding the cause of her panic. It was not like she had disrespected the king in any way. She didn't know Ceremus was a king.
"It's quite alright, miss. You haven't acted out of turn in the slightest." He assured him.
"You are kind in saying so. And please, call me Meliše." She smiled.
Though Hael didn't return the smile, his eyes softened, at least until she removed the head wrap and shawl that was covering her face, revealing a head of long, silky midnight blue locks that cascaded into effortless curls behind her back. Her face, that had remained hidden this entire time, unveiled a visage unlike anything Hael had ever seen.
Like a fey, delicate with a dark, almost mystical allure, she was a captivating beauty capable of pulling others in almost instantly. Luminous and striking, her features resembled a work of art. Conversation died mid-sentence. The men straightened instinctively, shoulders tensing as their eyes followed her, some blinking as if to clear a spell-induced haze. One of them let out a low whistle before catching himself, turning away hastily as if embarrassed by his own reaction.
She sauntered confidently towards Ceremus who had not yet seen her, and only turned to look at her when he saw Marcus' mouth hanging open, his eyes almost bulging out of their sockets. "What is it — "he said, but his words faltered as he turned to look in the direction the captain was staring at.
He saw a beautiful woman approaching them, her blue-green eyes gazing into his golden ones before bowing her head respectfully. "I give my greetings to Your Majesty. Please accept my sincere apologies for not recognizing your status earlier." She said.
Ceremus' brow creased as he took in the woman before him, his sharp gaze flicking over her poised stance, the careful way she measured each movement. Something felt off. He turned slightly, catching Hael's eyes—troubled, wary. A silent warning. His frown deepened.
Realizing that she was still in a prostrating position, he quickly told her to get up. "Enough of this," He said as he stared at her warily.
Meliše didn't waste any time as she stood upright, this time looking directly into his eyes. She curled her lips into a lighthearted smile. "Of course, Your Majesty."
Hael took it as his cue to approach them, taking the initiative to introduce each other. "Your Majesty, this is Ms. Melize."
The king nodded before turning his attention to Hael. "We will set off in ten minutes. Give Marcus and the crew a hand."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Hael replied before conducting his task.
With the two now left alone, Meliše took it as an opportunity to strike. She discreetly fluffed her hair and fluttered her long eyelashes before addressing the king. "Is Your Majesty returning from a long voyage?" She asked as she attempted to make conversation.
Ceremus nodded curtly in response.
"I see. Where did you come from, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Leacus."
"Leacus?" she repeated, to which Ceremus nodded.
So that's where the shield and sword were hidden, Meliše thought to herself.
"Your Majesty," Marcus called as he perked his head inside the temple, "we have finished bringing everything back to the ship. We are ready to set sail at your command," he informed.
"Good. Let's not waste anymore time." He said before looking at Meliše, glancing between the mother and child. As if sensing what he was thinking, Meliše let out a reassuring laugh. "There is no need to worry, Your Majesty; you will barely know we are there."
Ceremus exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers curling against his palm. A week at sea, unpredictable tides, and now—an infant. He cast a glance at the baby, small and fragile against Meliše's arms. The weight of his own words—his promise—hung over him like a chain. There was no taking them back now. But since he had already given his word that she could board with them, he couldn't go back on them now, not with the possibility of disappointing Hael.
So, with a heavy heart, everyone boarded the ship. The wooden planks groaned beneath their weight as they stepped onto the ship, the scent of salt and damp timber thick in the air. Ropes creaked as the crew hoisted the sails, the fabric snapping sharply against the wind as they set off.