Fairyfly II - 9. Change of Heart

The royal garden was lush and green at any time of year, located in a spacious, sunlit building on the grounds behind the castle. With its roof made entirely out of glass, there was enough sunlight to allow plants to grow even in winter. The vast collection included trees, bushes, ferns and decorative plants from across Escaria, some brought by Norius and former kings of Alduin, others given as gifts by nobles and royals from other kingdoms.

Beautiful and rare flowers that bloomed during various seasons were a marvel to behold, and the young princesses would take every opportunity to take a walk through the garden and admire them. That day was no different - walking hand in hand, the two sisters made their way through the garden, until Amelia stopped in front of the starcup - a small plant with fragrant purple flowers with tiny golden speckles.

“Look how beautiful they are,” she spoke with sadness in her voice as she observed the flowers. They were always Arabella’s favorite.

“They are,” Ariana agreed, mistaking her older sister’s wistful expression for something else. “Are you worried about the ball? It’ll be alright, you’ll see.”

“I… do you really think so?”

“Uh-huh,” the youngest princess nodded with sincerity. “Just imagine, so many guests from all over Escaria coming to visit us. All dressed up, dancing, having fun… When was the last time we had such a grand ball?”

“I’m not sure… I think we were too young to remember,” Amelia replied, realizing she had never attended such a big celebration. She remembered how their mother talked about attending royal balls in her youth, meeting all sorts of nobles from other lands, everyone with their own story to tell.

“And just imagine, we’ll get so many gifts!”

“What would you like to get?” the older sister asked as they slowly left the garden and walked back up the stone path that led towards the castle.

“I heard mother say that ladies in Menelyn have beautiful dresses, the prettiest ones in all of Escaria, so I hope someone brings me one. That would be so lovely!”

Amelia smiled at her younger sister, pleased to see her so excited. It was easy for Ariana to be looking forward to the ball - she was still young and did not have any obligations. However, Amelia could not afford to be so carefree. Everyone was coming to the ball for her - she was the one all eyes would be on. She was the one who would have to meet all the young nobles and princes and choose one of them to be her husband. That felt like so much more responsibility than she ever had to shoulder. Up until now, her life consisted of having etiquette lessons, reading poetry, or spending time practicing whatever hobbies she desired. But now that she was eighteen, she had to choose a husband. Despite her concerns and reservations, the girl was grateful to her mother for allowing her the freedom of choice - something Arabella never had.

Once they were back in the castle, Amelia parted ways with Ariana, deciding to go talk to her mother. The closer they got to the royal ball, the more she needed Loreena’s advice and reassurance. However, as she approached the throne room, the princess could see her mother in a heated discussion with Gilda. Curious, she quietly slipped behind a column from where she could see and hear what was happening.

“And I am telling you, you need to try harder! I don’t think I need to explain that this is a matter of utmost importance,” the Queen admonished her guard commander. “He couldn’t have just vanished into thin air. We need to find him, and the sooner the better!”

Amelia observed with concern, she had never seen her mother so worried and angry, not since… that day. Loreena looked tired, with bags under her eyes that even makeup could not conceal.

“I understand, your majesty,” Gilda replied, looking the queen in the eyes. “I assure you, we are doing the best we can. We have been searching all over, and I believe it’s only a matter of time before we find him.”

The door opening broke the tension between the two women, as one of the men that guarded the throne room took a step forward.

“I apologize, your majesty. Khalgos the sorcerer is here to see you. Should we let him in?”

“Yes,” Loreena replied after a moment of hesitation. “Show him in.”

The guard stepped out only to return a few moments later, the old, gray-haired man following closely behind.

“Your majesty,” the sorcerer greeted the queen, taking a small bow.

“Khalgos, it is nice to see you again. What brings you here?”

“I was just with Esthor, and I’m afraid I might have some bad news. We have reason to believe that whoever is helping Norius has taken him to a sorceress named Lyra.”

Amelia gasped as she heard that name. Could they be talking about her father, or was it some other man named Norius? But her father was sick, lying in the castle, unable to leave the bed. Was it truly just a coincidence, or was there something else going on?

Suddenly, Khalgos turned his head in her direction, and she ducked behind the column, her heart threatening to break out of her chest. Holding her breath, she rushed back down the hallway, the conversation she had just heard still echoing in her mind.

Finding herself back in her chambers, Amelia plopped down onto her bed, holding her head in her hands. What exactly happened back there? She could not understand anything. It seemed as if she had only a few pieces of the puzzle, too far from getting a complete picture.

Just as fast as she had rushed into her room, the princess hurried outside, making her way to the wing that her father supposedly occupied, ill and bedridden. Looking over her shoulder at every corner, afraid of getting caught, she somehow found the way to her destination. Just a little more, and she would be there.

After climbing the last flight of stairs, she took a turn into the hallway that would lead her to the medical wing. However, she quickly froze on the spot as she noticed a familiar figure standing by the door.

“Princess Amelia, how lovely to see you,” Khalgos greeted her. Though his tone was friendly, it made her feel unsettled. Just one look at his face and she could tell that he was aware of why she came there.

“I… I was just…” Amelia stuttered, staring at the old man. A part of her wanted to flee, but that would only make her look even more guilty. Besides, there was no way she could escape. Khalgos may not have been quite as powerful as Esthor, but he was still a sorcerer, as well as much older and much scarier than his former student.

“You know, eavesdropping does not become a princess, wouldn’t you agree?” the old sorcerer spoke kindly as he sat and observed the girl, smiling at her. Despite his calm demeanour, she was terrified.

“I wasn’t… That is to say, I just wanted-”

“I think I have a rather good idea of why you came here, princess.”

Amelia lowered her head, unable to look the old man in the eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop on you and mother. I just… I heard my father’s name and I got curious. Is he going to be alright?”

“Princess, trust me when I say that as soon as the king is back to his old self - the brave king and the devoted father he once was - your mother will let you know. I know you must miss him terribly, and so does she. But until that happens…” the old man stood up, and Amelia instinctively stepped back, pressing her back against the wall, “I suggest you devote your time to preparations for the ball.”

“Right… I shall,” the girl nodded nervously. “Will you… will you tell mother about this?”

“Not this time. But don’t make a habit out of it.”

“Thank you, Master Khalgos. And I won’t. Good- goodbye,” Amelia stuttered before retreating towards the staircase, eager to go back to her chambers. With a final nod, she hurried down the stairs, heading straight to her room with no detours along the way.

~~

It did not take long for Esthor to find the home of the infamous mind mage on the outskirts on the north side of Thenelle. Even though the few people he came across seemed reluctant to talk, they quickly became chatty after getting a glimpse of the sorcerer’s powers, and a threat that they would be turned into dung beetles.

The sun was high in the sky when Esthor arrived at his destination, steeling himself to enter the lavish mansion up ahead. Just because Khalgos had heard some less than favorable rumors about the woman, that did not have to mean that she would refuse to help. After all, they were both sorcerers, so surely she would be willing to lend a helping hand, he thought as he approached the stone gate. After all, she must have heard of Esthor - his reputation preceded him. It should be an honor for her to be able to assist him!

Holding his head high, with a confident smile on his face, the sorcerer approached the gate where he was met by two guards.

“State your business,” a burly man armed with a heavy sword and shield said the moment Esthor appeared.

“I am Esthor, obviously, and I would very much appreciate it if I could speak to Lyra. I have something rather urgent to discuss with her.”

“We’ll let her know. Wait right there.”

While one of the guards went into the mansion, the other stayed at the gate, eyeing Esthor. No words were exchanged between the two men, only cold, indifferent stares. Luckily for both, the first of the guards returned quickly, motioning to his companion to open the gate and let the visitor pass.

“Mistress Lyra will see you now. Follow me.”

“Lead the way,” the sorcerer replied, curiously eyeing the yard and the house in front of him. It all seemed very well maintained, as if a proper noble family was living there. He assumed it was all a product of magic rather than actual effort - it was what he would have done if he cared even a little about landscaping and architecture. His house was perfect as it is, even if it wasn’t half as fancy as this one, he thought. It simply felt like home - especially since Rulf moved in. But if they ever wanted a bigger place, he could simply conjure one up.

Upon entering the mansion, Esthor found himself a little taken aback at the excessive decorations all over the place. It was as if the owner wanted to showcase her wealth at every corner of every single room - sadly, at the expense of good taste.

“I was wondering when you would show up,” a loud, amused female voice greeted him before he could even see the person addressing him. She sounded as if she was expecting him - but why? He couldn’t help but wonder. She would probably tell him soon enough.

When he entered the lounge, he could see the source of the sound - a slim, blond woman lay on a sofa, while a muscular, oiled-up, shirtless man massaged her feet. Yet another, similar-looking man stood behind the sofa, fanning the sorceress with a large palm leaf. Esthor stared, conflicted between being impressed and dumbstruck.

“Um, you were?”

“But of course! I just didn’t think you’d come so soon,” Lyra said, smiling as if she was talking to an old friend. “Never mind, though. Would you like some refreshments, dear?”

“No, thank you,” the blond man refused politely. “I assume you know who I am?”

“Of course, who doesn’t? Your reputation precedes you.”

Esthor couldn’t help but smile internally. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so difficult after all.

“Thank you. I suppose I should explain why I’m here. You see…”

“Oh, I know all about why you’re here. Didn’t I say I was expecting you?” Lyra interrupted him, still looking as if she was enjoying herself immensely. “After King Norius visited and told me all that he had to tell me, I knew it was just a matter of time before you come knocking on my door.”

“So he was here?” Esthor’s face suddenly turned serious, his lips drawing into a tight line. It was just as he had feared - Quinn had brought him there to ask for Lyra’s help in dispelling the curse. “I assume he came to beg for your help. What did you tell him?”

“Oh, I helped him, of course. I have to give credit where it’s due, you did a brilliant job with the spell, but I managed to remove it.”

The sorcerer’s eyes went wide as if someone had just slapped him right across the face.

“What?! Why would you do that?” he asked angrily, drawing looks from everyone in the room.

“And why not?” Lyra snapped back, staring him down. “Who is there to tell me what I should and should not do? I had nothing better to do that morning anyway.”

“You…” the young man pinched the bridge of his nose, barely restraining himself from cursing out the annoying sorceress. “You had no right to do that!”

“And who are you to tell me that? I can do whatever the hell I please. And there’s nothing you can do about it now. If that’s all…”

Just as Lyra was about to dismiss Esthor, the heavy golden drapes at the back of the room opened, and yet another shirtless man walked out, carrying a ceramic bowl stacked with oranges, pomegranates and grapes.

“Lyra, I brought you fruit,” he spoke as he moved toward the sofa. Esthor’s head immediately snapped in his direction at the sound of the familiar voice.

Blood froze in the sorcerer’s veins as he saw Rulf, clad in nothing but a pair of light pants, approaching the blond woman with a smitten look on his face.

“Rulf?” Esthor asked, his voice unnaturally hollow. “What is happening?”

“Esthor?” the Lykos replied, stopping to look at the man he recognized. “What are you doing here?” he asked with mild curiousity, as if he had seen a neighbor visiting him at an oddly late hour of the night.

“Oh, you two know each other?” Lyra interjected, eyes darting between the two men. “How lovely.”

“Yes, we know each other,” the sorcerer replied, his eyes never leaving Rulf’s. He knew his beloved’s every expression, every smile and every frown. The way his brows furrowed when he worked on his carpentry, the lovely way his eyes lit up when he would hold shifting classes to young kids from the neighborhood. But his face at that moment, that distant, strange look in his eyes… it was unrecognizable.

“What have you done with him?!” Esthor growled, his fiery eyes glaring at Lyra. Though he stood calmly, anger brewed inside him like a storm ready to be unleashed.

“I asked him if he wanted to stay, and he agreed,” the woman replied calmly. “I don’t think he enjoyed being in the company of Norius that much.”

The nonchalant tone with which Lyra replied only served to aggravate Esthor even more. He gripped his scepted tightly, pointing it at the sorceress.

“No! I won’t let you hurt her,” Rulf suddenly dropped the fruit at the table, rushing over to stand in front of Lyra, protecting her with his body.

“Rulf, what the hell are you doing? Move, please!” Esthor cried out, somewhere between a plea and an order, but the Lykos would not budge.

“I’m not going to let you hurt Lyra,” Rulf shook his head, shielding the woman with his arms and body.

“He will do anything for me, and I mean that quite literally,” Lyra said triumphantly as she whipped out her own wand and pointed it at the auburn-haired man blindly protecting her. “So I suggest you put that scepter down. He’s under my control and he’ll do whatever I want. Isn’t that right, love?”

“Of course, Lyra,” Rulf nodded, turning to smile at her. “Anything you want.”

Esthor watched in horror as his beloved Lykos reached down to the table and picked up a small fruit knife before bringing it to his own throat.

“No! Make him stop!” he screamed, watching as the knife pressed into Rulf’s neck, a drop of blood appearing where the tip of the blade pierced the skin.

“Lower your scepter, and I will,” Lyra’s response was cool, one eyebrow raised as she had her eye on the blond man. “I know what’s on your mind, sorcerer. And if you so much as think of casting a spell, your lover here is dead.”

With no other choice, Esthor gave in, doing as he was told. As soon as he did that, Rulf put the knife away from his throat, the expression on his face eerily calm, almost bored.

“Rulf, I know you’re in there. Please, snap out of it and come home with me,” Esthor insisted. He had no idea how strong the spell on the Lykos was, or how to break it, but he had to try.

Unfortunately, his pleading was met by a look of pure indifference from the man that used to be his lover.

“I’m sorry, but I love Lyra now,” the Lykos stated simply, as if he was describing the weather outside. “I’m staying here. But it was nice seeing you again.”

“Gods, this is getting tedious,” Lyra rolled her eyes. Even though her gaze was fixed on Rulf, her wand was now pointed at Esthor. “What should we do with him, Rulfie? Should we make him join us? Would you like that?”

“It’s up to you, mistress,” Rulf shrugged, not seeming to care one way or another.

With a flick of the woman’s wrist, the door behind Esthor opened with a slam.

“Leave, unless you want me to throw you out,” Lyra ordered. Just as Esthor opened his mouth to respond, she cut him off. “I know, ‘This isn’t over, I’ll be back…’ I’ve heard it all before. Get out!”

With hurried steps, Esthor turned around and left the mansion, a murderous glare in his eyes. Lyra was right - this wasn’t over, and he would be back, as soon as he had a plan. There was no way he was going to leave Rulf there, but there was nothing he could do at that moment. For all he knew, Lyra could easily put him under mind control and use his powers for her purposes. No, he would have to catch her by surprise, strike before she had a chance to react.

He could collapse the whole house on that bitch’s head, if only Rulf wasn’t inside. All those other men as well - it was highly unlikely they were there of their own free will. Esthor knew he had to try and save them somehow, though he would have to exercise caution - for as long as they were under Lyra’s thrall, they were all enemies.

~~

The old cart moved slowly through backstreets and alleys of Thenelle, drawn by a single horse, threatening to fall apart whenever it would bump into a rock or pass over a pothole. Its two passengers were silent as if they were complete strangers, not paying any attention to each other.

While Quinn sat at the front and held the reins, Norius lay low in the cart, hood covering his face, pretending to sleep. The king was anxious, itching to do something now that he could finally see things clearly - both literally and figuratively - but he couldn’t. Not yet. Quinn was right about one thing at least - royal guards were still out there, looking for them, and if they recognized the king, they would surely apprehend him without hesitation. He would have to wait. Soon they would be back in their hideout, where he could have time to think, time to plan his next steps. Now that he had finally come to his senses thanks to that sorceress, he could start making amends, and that would begin with his family. He had to somehow make Loreena hear him out.

After what felt like hours, Norius felt the cart come to a stop, but he still did not dare make a move.

“What are you waiting for?” Quinn asked as he hopped down to the ground and walked over to the side of the cart. “We’re here. Let’s get inside.”

As soon as they were back inside, safely hidden in their underground lair, Norius took off the hood that covered his face and looked around. How wonderful it felt to be able to see after such a long time, even if it was such a sorry sight. The room was stuffy and shabby, with only a few pieces of old furniture. The old king made his way to the table and grabbed the bottle, shaking it to see if there was any ale left. He had taken a few sips earlier that night, before they went to visit Lyra, but he was thirsty for more.

“Well, say something,” Quinn spoke as he took of his jacket and sat in an armchair by the fireplace that was now extinguished. Unlike Norius, the guard was not in the mood for alcohol. With so many uncertainties troubling him, he needed to keep a clear head rather than get drunk. “You haven’t said a word since we left there. What’s going on in that head of yours? What did Lyra even do to you? The blindfold is gone, so I assume everything’s fine. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Everything’s fine?” Norius spoke through gritted teeth, his back turned to Quinn. “Everything’s fine?! You don’t have the faintest idea of what I’m going through right now, so forgive me if I’m not in the mood to talk. Fuck!”

The king slammed his fist against the table, causing the bottle and two glasses next to it to jump off the surface. His hand shaking, he turned around and sank into the nearby chair, gazing at the dirty stone floor.

“You want me to say thank you? Yes, I’m grateful that I can see again… I can see all the things I’ve done wrong, every single one of them. I’ve lost my wife, my daughters… they must hate me now. How can I ever look them in the eyes again? I led Zane to his death - the best commander I’ve ever had. Yes, that Lykos may have been the one who bit him, but I caused all of it. It’s all my fault. And look at me now. I was the king, people respected me, looked up to me, and now I can’t even show my face in the streets anymore. I’m nothing but a disgraced fugitive… But it’s only what I deserve. I brought it all upon myself.”

The silence in the room was heavy as both men sat quietly, refusing to look at each other. It was only a few moments later that Quinn broke it.

“You’re only saying that because of the spell. You don’t actually mean any of it.”

Norius scoffed, barely glancing at the other man. He did not believe him.

“I’m serious. It’s all because that woman messed with your head. We just need to wait for the spell to wear off.”

“You think this is something that’s going to pass?” the king asked, but it was more of a statement of disbelief than a question. In his mind, there was no chance he could go back to the way he used to be.

“It better,” the guard replied tersely. “I didn’t go through all this trouble just for you to change your mind now. I will see my plan through, and if you ever want to be more than an outlaw in your own kingdom, you’ll play along - whether you want to or not.”

As far as Quinn was concerned, that was the end of that discussion. He was irritated at Lyra, but even more so at Norius. The last thing he needed was for the king to start having second thoughts, as it would make his job much more difficult. “I’ll be back with food,” he added curtly as he stood up, put his jacket back on and left the hideout, slamming the door before locking it.

Norius made his way to the small bed in the corner of the room and lay in it. He was too exhausted from everything, too tired to even think anymore. Pulling a thin, raggedy blanket over his body all the way up to his chin, he closed his eyes, hoping sleep would claim him soon.