Chapter 10

The Fall Banquet Pt.1

Geddeon’s POV

Geddeon strolled through the Autumnal Ruins Realm Gate and into Temperantia Hall, welcomed by an array of Vermillion and Canary Geraniums that hung from the vaulted ceilings in ombré clusters, casting a delicate rainfall of petals towards the room exit.

He inhaled deep, comforted by the familiar scent of spice. With La Muerte’s personal touches to a neutral space, it felt closer to home than his castle.

“Esa mujer hace magia.” Xibalba gushed, stepping further into the warm room.

“Tía sure went all out…” the prince noted, his eyes catching the specific flower variants his aunt was renowned for.

Crimson and gold drapes lined the corners of the room with individual Ignis Roses placed over the Realm Gates themselves. Peering out of the room into the grand staircase, he noted the same roses in bouquets hanging off of the banister, creating guide lights down the dimly lit staircase.

In truth, it reminded him of his visits to his uncle’s castle. The warm sense of familiarity and comfort radiated through every carefully placed flower and decoration. 

It was a feeling he had grown to liken to being around his aunt and uncle. Far more comfortable, than the tepid halls of his father's castle.

“Ahí estás! ¿Por qué os ha costado tanto a los dos?” A cheerful voice echoed from the entrance way. 

A dark red dress entered the room before she did, with a flow of crimson and ebony carefully clipped to her hip, creating a waterfall of fluffy, taffeta-lined ruffles. The woman’s dark brown hair was long and curled at the ends, her amber eyes shining behind her detailed sugar skull makeup.

“¡Mis disculpas, mi vida! Estábamos terminando las últimas modificaciones,” The Remisian King gleamed at the woman, his arms open wide to display his outfit, “¿Cómo me veo?”

She strolled over to the men with a large smile, placing a hand on Xibalba’s cheek, “Impresionante.” When she set her gaze upon Geddeon, she placed her other hand on his cheek, “¡Y tú! Estás bastante elegante, Su Alteza Real.”

The prince felt a blush creep onto his face, more from embarrassment than anything else. “Gracias, Tìa,” he said with a small smile.

“There’s no need to be nervous, niño. You’ve attended many times as a guard. Only now, you are a guest. Relax, drink, socialize!” The older man cajoled. 

“Sois los primeros en llegar, mi amor. Chamiabac dijo que llegaría un poco más tarde,” the woman stood back as she pulled her hands away, her smile slightly dimming.

Xibalba’s brows scrunched with his face paint, “¿Eh? ¿Por qué iba a llegar tarde?”

“Para preparar a Fitzgerald para el banquete.” Another woman’s voice called out. Wrath entered the room in her standard attire, her green eyes were sharp, with a hint of annoyance. She walked over to the group by the Realm Gate, her stride demanding attention. “Apologies, La Muerte, he wanted to personally oversee to his fitting.”

Geddeon felt his eye twitch at the mention of the bastard’s name.

“¡Maria! Llegas antes de lo esperado. ¿Por qué usaste una puerta?” The host questioned.

“When do I ever use a gate?” Wrath asked, her brows raised in confusion at her friend. 

With a light stomp and a bright red pout, La Muerte looped her arm around her husband’s, affectionately, “Touché, I cannot expect a SINN to follow directions, after all.”

Geddeon sighed. In truth, he had expected to be left out of the loop. Tensions between him and his father had risen since the incident with Fixx. The fact that his uncle had to accompany him to his fitting as opposed to his father, petty it may be, was testament to that.

The prince was eager to speak to him before, but the urge diminished. They probably wouldn’t converse with each other until after dinner, and considering their last conversation, it more than likely wouldn’t last long, or be uplifting in any sense.

Perhaps it was for the best. They hardly spoke as it was.

The younger man quietly snuck away from the chattering group, following the crimson and gold carpets through the archway onto the grand landing. The staircase, coated in the same red and gold carpets from the Gate Room, were illuminated by pumpkin lights down the stairs, leading into the Grand Ballroom towards various displays and towers of hors d'oeuvres. 

About twenty of his aunt’s Remisian servants lined the stairs in black and red uniforms, all bowing upon his arrival. He strolled down the stairs, his head held high, even while no one was looking.

It was something that he would have to be fully versed in, once he becomes king.

The thought nearly made the prince disassociate, his gaze following the height of the crimson drapes skyward until he noticed a spot of muted purple, floating among the lights. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he hastily realized that someone was floating just under the vaulted ceilings, snoring lightly. His brows furrowed as his feet touched the bottom of the stairs. “Uncle Sloth?”

The figure rustled at his name and gradually rolled over to face the source, one of his galaxy riddled eyes slowly opening. “Huh? Oh, hello there, Geddeon,” he spoke through a deep yawn.

The younger man tilted his head, “I didn’t expect you to be here.”

“I live here, nephew. Just don’t tell your mother,” Sloth said simply as he floated a bit lower.

‘Does she not already know that?’

“Oh. Then are you attending the banquet?”

“No, though, do give your aunt my best. I have no stomach for a feast. Good has a habit of putting me to sleep, and sometimes, the strength of my slumber causes me to sink through the floors,” the older man admitted, rubbing his eye with the palm of his hand.

“I’m sorry, what?” The prince blinked at his uncle, astounded by the new fact and hesitant to inquire further.

“I HAVE ARRIVED!!” A deep voice boomed across the great hall, snapping Geddeon’s attention away from his conversation.

At the top of the stairs stood Tyr; hands akimbo with the earned ego of a giant, shirtless like usual and draped in the pelt of a gem decorated bear, that the prince could only assume was personally slain by the man. The legs of his olive green pants were tucked into black boots, emblazoned with a sand and ebony leather loincloth.

The prince was surprised that one of his many mentors had arrived so soon, considering his proclivity with tardiness and drinking.

“WHERE IS THE MEAD?!” He boastfully called, holding his drinking horn raised to the sky.

Well, at least one of those things remained a constant.

“Cielo has it; why are you shouting?” Vincent groaned as he walked past the loud man down the stairs, twisting his pinky finger in his ear to clean out the noise. He donned a muted blue changshan with a gold trim, and simple white silk pants tucked into dark blue boots. His golden cape rustled behind him, the inner lining sparkling under the lights like stars against a dark blue base. 

“I was promised MEAD!” Tyr answered, stomping down the stairs behind the zephyr nymph with heavy thumps.

“Well, I wasn't initially looking for mead, but that does sound nice,” Geddeon mentioned, taking another glance around the room. When he turned back towards his uncle, there was only empty space where he had once floated.

The prince paused for a moment, staring at the elaborate gourmet hors d'oeuvres table in his uncle’s place, and sank into thought. 

He always wondered if it was a curse or a blessing to be a SINN.

On the lighter hand, he would be able to generate his own portal, free to travel across Aeon in a matter of seconds.

The other hand, however, was heavier. He would be sitting at the forefront of many major decisions regarding the entirety of New Temperantia, all while having to remain unbiased.

As the Child of SINN and the King of All Hallows, his fate was locked in before he even had a chance to hide the key.

His uncle, Sloth, seemed to have the easiest time of it, if all he did was sleep at the Equinox Hall. Though, it was probably for the best; his other aunts and uncles had talking voices louder than shouts.

"It's right here, aged to perfection.” A soft voice piped up on the prince's right side, causing him to flinch and turn towards the source. 

Next to him, a woman with a dark brown curled bob stood innocently in a light-shifting golden violet dress, holding two dark brown carafes in her arms. Her features were soft, accented by the blue glittering lipstick she was wearing.

“Hi, Princess Cielo.” The prince exhaled slowly, tugging on his black fur-lined lapels to regain his composure.

“Hello Geddeon,” the warm skinned woman smiled from under her sun crown. She curtsied to him, holding out a golden flask emblazoned with an iridescent, feathered wing, “I didn’t startle you, did I?”

“No!” He denied swiftly before staring down at the item in her hand, “What’s this?”

“I made new batches of mead based on your suggestions from last year,“ Cielo explained, standing up straight, “For all your help, I set a special barrel aside just for you. Happy belated birthday.”

In truth, he had half expected this.

As children of royalty, both he and Cielo had been good friends since their youth. The princess of Midsummer Cape, while soft-spoken and demure, had a knack for combining her interest for culinary and her love of mixology, often offering to cook or providing food during social events. Her fame lied in her intensely strong alcohol combinations, but Tyr, with his high tolerance, was a ‘decent’ sommelier.

When he wasn’t already drunk, Of course.

Surely, without her, his group of friends wouldn’t have existed.

“Aw, you didn’t have to do all this,” the prince smiled softly, his eyes shifting between the woman and the flask.

“It’s my pleasure, though I will caution that it is quite potent and will fight back. I call it “Mid-Autumn Embers”.

“Where’s mine!?” Tyr echoed, looming over the royals.

Cielo, unphased by the larger man, held both of the carafes to the Honorary Fae, each wrapped with a black ribbon by the handles. “These are for you, completed this morning, I call it “Thunderfuck”,” she smiled softly, stunning Geddeon with the princess’s creativity.

“Thank you, princess!” Tyr exclaimed, carefully pulling the container from the woman, twisting the cap and chugging each carafe empty in a matter of seconds. Surprising all but Cielo, when the man belched, the sound reverberated through the entire building, like a crack of thunder during the Cape’s rainy season. He wiped his bearded mouth with his arm, returning the now empty carafes back to sender, “Excellent batch, Cielo. Another!”

Vincent groaned with annoyance as he approached the group, “Did you even taste it?”

“High doubt.” Geddeon noted bluntly.

Vincent pointed towards one of the side sitting rooms, “I placed a barrel in that room.”

“About time you do some damn work, you lazy shit!” Tyr joked at the nymph, then turned to the prince, nearly shouting, “Young prince!”

“Yes?”, The prince hesitated, his brows furrowed.

“The next time we meet outside of a party, you will show me your strength.”, the man declared.

“Um…Alright?” Geddeon nodded slowly, half expecting the declaration, but also trying not to cringe at his confirmation.

After all, no one denies Tyr.

“No, don’t agree to that.” Vincent grumbled, waiving the older man off.

“It’s too late for him! Now, I leave to talk to the adults,” the man announced, his eyes glaring at the room keeping him from his drink of choice.

“We are adults?” the prince questioned aloud, placing the flask into his inner blazer pocket.

“Not adult enough! OLDER ADULTS!”

Vincent sneered, “You’re not that much older than us!”

Tyr waved them off as he walked away, “Keep talking, I’ll add you to the training!”

Geddeon sighed. The man was wildly unpredictable, but as long as he had his mead and enough space to fight, Tyr was easy to satisfy.

Though, he often overwhelmed the prince with his eagerness to fight. 

Honestly, it was exhausting.

“You got sneaked by Cielo,” Vincent chuckled, holding out his hand to the prince, “I saw that.”

“Shut up,” Geddeon huffed, gripping onto his friend’s hand and pulling him into a quick hug. “I’m surprised that you of all people actually dressed for the occasion.”

“Do go on, Your Royal Highness. Where’s your usual tattered attire and what the hell is on your head?” The nymph smirked as he pulled away, folding his arms over his partially bared chest.

The prince’s right eyebrow twitched, “I’ll let you know after you tell me why the fuck you’re wearing a cape.”

The men eyed each other, fully prepared for a battle of roasts. The nymph was one of the closest friends, so neither would truly take offense to the other’s words.

Vincent Miyamoto was the Rhyddid of Midsummer, a Paragon Title earned by challenging Fae King Oberon of Midsummer Cape, and winning. A man of few words, unless it was someone who had earned his respect.

Geddeon originally met him almost twenty years ago, back when Sloth allowed the entourages of Realm Elders to enter the Equinox Court. The nymph had arrived with the Royal Fae Court, uncomfortable with conversation and praying to be anywhere else. The prince, at the time, was highly excitable and eager to make friends, latching onto Vincent almost immediately.

When they eventually met Mother Nature’s son, an Alrune named Terran, the boys included him in their shenanigans, cementing their unbreakable friendship.

“Yeah yeah,” Vincent scoffed, casually glancing around the room. “Where’s the alcohol so I can survive through tonight?”

One of the servants who carefully observed the group settle in, walked over to them, holding up a tray of orange drinks within champagne flutes. “Autumn Barrel?”

Vincent and Geddeon grabbed one each with no hesitation, while Cielo handed off the empty carafes to the servant and calmly grabbed two glasses, causing the Paragons to share a puzzled glance between each other.

“I’m holding one for Riatris. He should be coming down soon.” The woman explained, sipping from the glass in her right hand, daintily. 

“I thank you for that,” said another man from behind the princess, his pale, porcelain hand gently taking a hold of the sides of the glass and pulling it away. Standing to Cielo’s left side was a man in an indigo tunic lined with gold, arm bracers and embellishments connecting the consistent starry theme of Midsummer Cape denizens. 

The prince watched as the man hastily consumed his drink, his copper red hair flipping back as he did. “Holy shit, he actually walked downstairs,” Geddeon pondered aloud, elbowing the nymph next to him.

Riatris Solodon rarely made appearances at social events, wholly due to a bogus decree by the Late King Oberon of Midsummer Cape. He comes from a rare lineage of Fae Nobility attuned to Psionic Magicks.

By insulting the credibility of his king, he was stripped of his nobility and exiled to the Equinox Court to be the first Paragon in the Cape’s history, as opposed to being granted such status. Even after the subsequent Rebellion of Storms, Riatris remained a Paragon, since the curse was finalized.

In official circumstances, the fae was known as the Record Keeper of the Equinox Court; damned to an eternity of maintaining the Archives and the Paragon Registry, but thanks to an agreement between Vincent and newly crowned Queen Astoria, the fae’s exile was repealed and his nobility status was restored.

While he was an unfortunate victim of circumstance, Riatris was a good friend, nonetheless.

“He didn’t have a choice; he promised Cielo,” Vincent confirmed, nodding to the redhead, “Evening, Ria.”

“Evening,” Riatris responded back, turning his gaunt, amethyst eyes toward the prince, “I’m assuming that rattle was Tyr?”

“You are correct; he’s in the other room, destroying his liver.” The prince confirmed, nodding towards the room that temporarily held the Honorary Fae.

“Figured as much,” The fae frowned, spinning the single droplet in his glass. “Sorry to be the one to ruin the already “fun” night, but be honest with me, Ged. Is Fixx actually back?”

Geddeon’s right eye twitched as the sound of his name. He inwardly groaned into his glass before depleting the liquid in a single swallow, the taste of aged pumpkin and apple lingering in his mouth. “Unfortunately.”

Riatris shook his head with a sigh, “Is he coming here tonight?”

“Father insisted…” the prince grumbled, waving over one of the servants to collect the empty glasses.

A smaller woman swiftly walked over with a tray, replacing the group’s depleted glasses with new drinks, then bowed and moved away.

“Besides Tyr, I was expecting a quiet evening of no work.” Riatris groaned.

“Do you know if the King will reinstate his Title?” Cielo inquired, walking around the group towards a tower of hors d'oeuvres.

“I can neither confirm nor deny that, but if he intends to, I wouldn’t know.” Geddeon shrugged, staring down at the flask.

“I’m surprised; I would have thought you would have had a discussion about that.” Vincent chimed in.

‘Yeah, me too.’

Geddeon pulled the flask from his inner pocket and twisted the top. Immediately, he was met with an inviting spiced pumpkin scent. He took a swig, the cold fluid warming into a cinnamon burn down his throat.

He recoiled slightly, but swallowed the remainder in his mouth, “Ugh. That was…actually quite pleasant. Not as strong as I had assumed.”

“Give it a minute.” Cielo smiled sweetly, causing the prince to glance at the fae inquisitively.

“What did you give him?” Terran piped up from the stairs, coated in an emerald haidate of twisting branches and lacquered embellishments, his voice muffled by the ornate halfmask adorning his face.

Much to Geddeon's amusement, the Alrune was also draped in a cape, though long and crème colored.

‘Ain’t no way, boy…’

“About time you showed up. What the hell took you so long?” The zephyr nymph nodded at the alrune.

“And why the fuck are you wearing a cape?” The prince quickly added, shaking his head at his friend’s attire.

“Where’s yours, you capeless fuck?” The alrune sneered at the imp through his mask.

“My fault, I didn’t know the banquet had a pro-cape dress code. Did ya’ll deadass plan this shit?” Geddeon scoffed, his bemused gaze shifting between the man.

“Look at him; do you honestly think that he could plan anything? He stole my flow,” Terran argued.

“Hey now,” Vincent warned, pulling on the elaborate cape, “This is far from my first choice for clothing.”

“It's called drip-” Terran started, interrupted by the prince.

“It’s a waste of expensive fabric for a mediocre accessory,” the prince droned, rolling his eyes.

“I know fur fringe ain’t talking,” the alrune enunciated, “You live in one of the most even tempered climates, and you’re wearing fur?”

“I’m surprised you can see anything past that snaggled tooth mask on your face.” Geddeon retorted coyly, holding his hand up to his mouth as to mime his friend’s mask.

“I’m surprised you can hear anything past the excessive jewelry.” Terran commented back, shaking his head. 

“Alright, alright. You both-” Vincent stepped in, only to be interrupted by his friends.

“I know the vertical, tattooed bathrobe ain't tryna start,” Terran objected, turning his full attention to the zephyr nymph. 

“On Samhain, I know damn well your sorry, cape wearing, dusty shoes with no drip having ass ain’t,” Geddeon rattled on, holding both of his hands together and pointing at the oldest man’s shoes.

Vincent sighed, “Aight, so we’re doing this. Listen here, you broke bargain bin bum bitches; Greenery, you need to stop letting the scary knight over there gas you up; you got the height, not the fight. And Our Dripless Highness needs to get some bitches and stop getting fit advice from flower power. 

All three glared between each other for the barest minute before they broke out into pearls of laughter that enveloped the room in warmth. Terran; being the first to recover, put a hand out to Geddeon, similar to how The Prince greeted Vincent, he gripped onto his friend’s hand and pulled him into a quick hug.

“For real though, it's good seeing you, Lightning bug,” Terran said, repeating the process with Vincent, adding a small slap on the older man's back.

“You too, Spearmint,” Vincent chuckled.

“And do my eyes deceive me? Well shit, you actually have the night off, Ria?’ the alrune nodded to fae man.

“Ha ha.” Riatris nodded back, his mouth filled with aged cheese slices.

“I look away for two seconds.”

The group glanced over Terran's shoulder to Travis, donning a violet purple tunic with vibrant green trimmings. His hair was brushed back to reveal his full face, and held in place by a Baneleaf laurel.

He held one of his violet sleeved arms behind him, barely covering a golden yellow dress.

“There's Ginger Root,” Vincent said, clapping a hand on the arbor nymph’s shoulder, “What’s up?”

Suddenly, the bright dress shifted away to the side of Travis, trying to inconspicuously hide, but failing due to the skirt’s volume.

Geddeon tilted his head, quickly noting the fluffy black rabbit ears folded back, “Aeifael? Why are you hiding?”

Upon hearing her name, the rabbit flinched to a halt, slowly turning her nervous gaze towards the prince, “…I do not like these clothes…”, the rabbit muttered.

Terran rolled his eyes, “You do this fight literally every year.”

“Fuck off…” Aeifael whined as she scurried over to Geddeon's side, as if seeking to hide behind his larger frame. Her golden dress glistened under the chandeliers. It was a warmer yellow than her usual dress, embroidered with a golden wild rose motif all around the skirt.

“Language.” The Alrune warned.

“I’m an adult!” The rabbit objected.

“Being a Paragon doesn’t make you an adult. At some point, you’re going to have to grow up.”

“Hey now, we all grow and learn at different rates,” Travis objected, trying to keep the tension down, “We should give others more grace.”

Geddeon stood awkwardly still watching his friends argue. All three seemed to have forgotten the young princess was hiding behind him, Granted it didn’t really bother him that Aeifael had chosen him to hide behind. They all were very close, but even the prince knew not to interfere with sibling arguments.

Still, he empathized with how difficult the arbor nymph had it, being stuck as the referee.

“Aeifael, why does this dress bother you? It's not that much different from what you usually wear.” Travis inquired, folding his arms over his chest.

“It's totally different,” the girl complained, emphasizing her point by patting on her fluffy skirt, “I feel naked.”

The random sentence caused Riatris’ face to contort. Though, he was in good company, as the group equally paused as such a sentence, sharing looks of concern and confusion.

“What do you mean by that?” Terran questioned through a scrunched face of confusion, eyebrows furrowed.

“I feel exposed,” Aeifael responded with a stomp, far lighter than her usual action.

“You look pretty, Aei.” Cielo piped up, walking over to the younger woman and adjusting the golden ribbon in the rabbit's hair.

“I hate it here and I wanna go home!” she said with a huff, her hands nervously gripping the fabric of her dress.

Geddeon sympathized with her, being more than familiar with the faint discomfort in more “elegant” attire, that he experienced even now well into his adult years. He could only imagine how uncomfortable the young Lepribun felt in her dresses.

“But you look absolutely adorable, little Bun-Bun!” 

The prince barely had time to register the movement before a sweet scent of Paleberry enveloped the space. It wasn't overbearing, though it was extremely familiar. He glanced over to his left side, watching as a taller porcelain-skinned woman in a pink and red dress scooped the rabbit up by the waist.

Her light strawberry blonde hair was a dead giveaway, and sharp red eyes scanned the group with excitement.

“Roza, you bitch! This is all your fault!” Aeifael shouted as she flailed and writhed in protest to being lifted off her feet.

“Aw, what do you mean?” Rozaliya asked cheekily, feigning ignorance.

“Mom thought your fuckass idea about trying ladylike etiquette was top shit! Look at this damn dress! Look at what you did to me!!” the rabbit argued, her screeches echoing throughout the room.

“Sounds like a useful lesson for you to learn,” the alrune muttered, earning a harsh glare from his little sister.

“Fuck. Off!” The girl cursed at her eldest brother.

“You know, that's not the first time I've heard that. If I had a gold piece for every time someone said that to me, I'd have two gold; which is not saying much, but it is weird that it's happened more than once. In the same evening, no less.” The water nymph rattled on, nonchalantly placing the girl back down on the ground, “Also, hi everybody!”

The water nymph was the eldest of the group, though only a year older than Her “alleged crush”. Her friendship with the prince began way back when, during the golden days when visits to the northern countries were normalized. She would hardly speak to other Esprits, but through dancing and her precise fortune telling, she found her voice, becoming popular early in life.

While Lady Valentine was extremely loyal and over-protective, taking on a motherly role with her friends, she was also an infamous flirt, eager to play matchmaker among the public. 

“Hi Roza,” the group chorused, excluding Vincent, who gave an upward nod, and Aeifael for obvious reasons. Even Riatris, with a mouth full of food, waved at the woman, while Cielo scurried to her side with a champagne glass filled with a bold red liquid.

“Aw, thank you, Princess!” The water nymph smirked, taking hold of the glass and swirling it around, “Did you make this yourself?”

“Sure did, I call it Classic Ruby,” Cielo nodded.

“How have you been?” Travis asked.

“Pretty good! It's a busy season in Chakram, so I’m running around all over the place.”

“Chakram? I thought you went back home to Marée Fluviale,” Terran mentioned aloud.

Rozaliya lifted the glass to her red lips, taking a light sip of her beverage. “No, I’ve been helping a dear friend. Cielo, this is delightful, sweetie.”

“Actively helping or pulling your favors?” Vincent chimed in, folding his arms over his chest.

“Six of one; half a dozen of the other,” the woman confirmed, glancing over to the zephyr nymph with a sly smile, “Hi Vince.”

The man rolled his eyes, “Sup.”

The response made the woman’s face pull into a pout. “You’re no fun…”

Suddenly, various footsteps and idle chatter echoed from the gate room. The Realm Elders, led by Lady La Muerte and consisting of Mother Nature, Fae Queen Astoria and King Xibalba, all entered the room and descended the staircase. The host, spotting the water nymph in the room, approached her nephew’s group with a warm smile.

“Well, don’t you all look lovely.” La Muerte commented, “Lady Valentine, I believe you snuck past me.”

“My apologies, Your Grace, you were preoccupied conversing with the Realm Elders. Far be it from me to interrupt a leader simply to be greeted.” Rozaliya explained, curtsying to the group.

“Nonsense! You are a guest; you should be greeted accordingly,” the host cajoled, leaning in closer to the woman.

From that moment, Geddeon witnessed his aunt whisper something into his friend’s ear, unable to read her lips clearly. A quick moment later, the host stared at the younger, expectantly.

The water nymph nodded back assuredly, “Yes ma’am, the message was passed along.”

“Bueno!” La Muerte clapped, her smile widening. “Geddeon!”

“Yes, Tía?” The prince stiffened.

“Please be sure you are welcoming to all of our guests,” the woman nodded.

“You need no worry, mi vida. Geddeon will be the pinnacle of a gentleman,” Xibalba chimed in, softly pulling the woman away from the younger group, eyeing his nephew with sure nod.

As the pair moved away, Geddeon frowned. He couldn’t tell if that was directed towards his soon to be arriving cousin.

Or someone else.

“So,” Travis questioned Rozaliya, returning back to their previous conversation. “Who’s the friend?”

“Huh?” The woman sounded, tilting her head in confusion.

“You said you couldn’t go back home because you were helping a dear friend.” The arbor nymph recited back.

Geddeon watched as the water nymph’s red eyes widened in remembrance.

“OH!” Rozaliya exclaimed, turning away from the group towards the stairs and tapping her finger to her cheek. 

It was a strange action that the prince almost questioned aloud, but he instead followed his friend's gaze towards the grand staircase. At first, he didn’t notice anything suspicious, but then, he realized that another woman was standing near the left side of the stairs.

From far away, she didn’t look familiar to him, but her dark cobalt dress and snow fur shrug were enchantingly eye-catching; a vivid contrast from the crimson and gold hues of the room.

He watched as the woman slowly descended the stairs, with the grace of someone accustomed to smooth motions. 

“Who’s that?” Terran muttered to Vincent. There was no response, but the zephyr nymph shook his head.

The prince had wondered if it was a dancer, as it would explain how Lady Valentine knew her. But upon closer inspection, her movements were fluid, with a subtle rigidity to her posture. It screamed of someone with battle experience, and a grand wealth of it.

Then came the sudden sense of familiarity. Surely, if Geddeon had met this woman before, he would remember her. But something was telling him he knew her, the thorn in his mind constantly irked him. He couldn't place where he knew her from.

Almost as if she could feel the eyes on her, she looked up and established eye contact with the sea of people, a lofty challenge burning in her eyes.

Her blue eyes.

Her glacier blue eyes.

Her frosty-

‘Holy shit, is that Frost!?’

Nyxis’s POV

Nyxis entered the Equinox Hall, welcomed by warm lights and the scent of aerated cinnamon. It was a far different experience from the last time she had visited; elegant yet cozy. Then, the sudden tapping of approaching footsteps caught her attention.

The source was a fair-skinned gentleman with short, black hair, his sleek uniform of red and black well tailored. He held his forearm out as he bowed sharply, “Good evening, Commander Frost. May I take your cloak?”

“Oh, s-sure,” the elf slowly nodded as she pulled back her hood, unlocking the brooch. As the man removed her cloak to reveal her velvet blue evening gown, her eyes scoured around the gate room.

The crimson and gold drapes wrapped around the pillars in a spiral of luxury, set with giant Geranium bushels and garlands coating the bare corners of the room. The chandeliers on the vaulted ceilings casted a warm light on the room below, creating a calming atmosphere as opposed to the harsh blues and white of her childhood.

Rozaliya was nowhere within sight; she more than likely ran ahead in all of her excitement. The elf couldn’t blame her, though. The nymph had known these people since her youth.

Other than Rozaliya, they were all strangers to her.

“The other guests are in the Great Hall, My Lady. Would you like assistance?” The servant questioned, holding his arm aloft. 

“No, but thank you,” Nyxis stated as she shook her head, her curly fringe bouncing in kind.

The man nodded as he bowed to her, calmly moving out of the room and down the stairs.

The commander sighed, moving forward a few steps before halting immediately. As she turned around to take in the whole room, she noted Ignis Roses floating atop the frame of each Realm Gate; six in total, including her own. The gates themselves lacked vibrancy in their faces, coated in a desaturated gray haze; an indication of enchanted seals on the gates.

Nyxis stared into the mirrored face of the Mt. Wynter Realm Gate, watching in real time as its soft light blue glow diminished into a chalky gray haze.

From the tomes she and Bast had read earlier in the day, only a SINN could lock a Realm Gate. 

‘There must be one in attendance. To be fair, this was technically a networking event, so oversight would be necessary…’

Which meant that if all the other gates were locked, then she and Rozaliya were the last to arrive.

The last of her resolve held on by thread. Her nerves were working overtime, rapid firing through her synapses as she held her arms close, rubbing her left forearm with her thumb.

’Inner peace…be calm…inner peace…be calm…’

Turning back around to face the decorated archway, the commander inhaled the deepest breath she could retain, held it momentarily, then released it in a slow drawl with a whisper and a short prayer. 

She couldn’t leave now.

Even through cold, clammy hands, she had to push forward.

Nyxis steeled her resolve and stepped through the archway of Temperantia Hall, under the slow raining petals of the Geranium flowers. Her eyes swiftly caught a hold of the pumpkin lanterns that were looped around the banister, casting a glow upon the carpeted stairs and an easy trail for movement in the ambient evening glow. 

She continued forward, following chattering and laughter until it grew louder, reaching the top of the main staircase. Peering across the space, she saw a world she wasn’t a part of; a room full of people who were familiar with each other, living like it was a regular day.

Her eyes scoured the room for Rozaliya until she spotted a pink dress, chattering with a medium sized group. It was quite the motley crew, though they conversed with ease. Even as the water nymph seemingly jumped, as though she remembered something she’d forgotten. As the blonde turned around, the women caught each other's eye.

The commander watched the nymph’s face soften with a supportive smile and a light nod, lifting her hand to her own face and tapping a finger to her left cheek three times.

One more than the “two tap warning” she was so familiar with.

Another elven code; one of confirmation.

‘She wants me to walk down by myself.’

Rozaliya always said to leave a lasting impression. This was probably her plan all along.

Being the center of attention was the last thing she wanted, but she couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer.

Staring straight ahead, Nyxis walked down the grand staircase, her head held high; even as the conversations and laughter slowly morphed into whisperings and murmurs.

Suddenly, all eyes were on her, and the silence sank in.

‘Inner peace…Be calm…Inner peace…Be calm…Inner peace…Be calm…’

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the same servant from the gate room standing next to a woman in a gorgeous crimson gown and elaborate make-up, similar to the sugar skulls of her youth. With a curt nod to the man, she strolled towards the elf, her confidence commanding the room.

As Nyxis stepped on the bottom of the landing, the other woman stood in front, her smile warm and inviting.

‘That must be La Muerte. So, the games begin.’

“Commander Frost, I presume?” The woman asked, her voice light.

“Yes, Your Grace.”, the commander bowed in greeting, her heart pounding, “I wanted to thank you for the invitation. I’m honored that you remembered me.”

La Muerte’s brows furrowed at her response. “Of course I remembered you. I’ve sent invitations every year, mostly in the hopes that we could talk.”

Nyxis felt her eye twitch, but she held her composure, “I see. You’ll have to forgive me, Your Grace, I was not made aware.”

‘Every year, huh? Good to know.’

“Well, regardless of the previous circumstances, I’m thrilled that you chose to attend.” The older woman extolled, turning towards the entire room and gesturing towards the elf. “¡Todos! Our guest of honor has finally arrived. Please do be kind in welcoming Commander Frost to this year’s banquet.”

After the host’s announcement, the room broke out into applause, all towards the commander. 

La Muerte glanced back at the woman over her shoulder, “It’s still cocktail hour, so feel free to drink and converse. My nephew and his friends are about the same age as yourself.”

”Thank you.”

When the applause halted, Rozaliya walked over to the elf, holding on to the arm.

“I think you left a good impression,” the water nymph whispered.

“You think so?” Nyxis asked, glancing over to the group of Realm Elders.

“Absolutely. The host is the wife of Lord Xibalba, King of Remisia. They wear intricate makeup during social events.”

“I remember him.” the elf confirmed, her eyes moving from the gentleman in the top hat to the women conversing with him.

‘Lord Xibalba…One of the kings. But where’s the other one?’

“The lady in pink is Mother Nature, and the woman in gold is Fae Queen Titania; their names are Carnati and Astoria, respectively,” the water nymph continued, “The woman in red is Lady Wrath, formerly Queen Maria.”

The commander made note of each of the women mentioned, blue eyes stuck on Wrath, “Formerly?”

“As a standard law of New Temperantia, no Sinn can hold office in any kingdom to preserve neutrality ,” the older woman clarified, “She married into the Royal Family with the Paragon Title of Guardian de Los Innocentes, she kept her Title when she became queen, but she recused both in order to become Wrath.”

“And she still attends social events?” The commander inquired.

“She’s the most even-tempered of the SINNs and usually attends with her son.”

‘The physical embodiment of Wrath is the most even-tempered, and she has a kid??’

“Well, we can talk about them later,” Rozaliya gleamed, grabbing onto the commander’s hand and pulling her towards her group, “But now, you can meet my friends!”

“Roza, wait!” The elf objected, lifting her dress to walk without tripping. By the time they had stopped moving, she was in front of a colorful group of people of various sizes.

“To answer your question, Trav; this is the said dear friend. Everyone, this is Nyxis,” the blonde gestured to the elf.

“Oh! Commander Frost, a pleasure to see you again,” a redheaded man in violet purple garbs nodded to the women, waving.

“I didn’t know you guys were friends,” a shorter woman wondered aloud, wearing a sun crown and shifting violet gold gown.

“Yeah, we’re more surprised that she’s friends with you,” a taller man in emerald green commented.

“Not too much, now!” Rozaliya objected with a prominent pout. “I’m excellent company!”

“More or less,” stated a man in indigo robes, occupied with stuffing his face with hors d'oeuvres from the grand display.

“Well anyway, the cutie in the sun crown is Princess Cielo of Midsummer, the jackass in the mask is Senior Greenery Terran, the chill one next to him is his younger brother and Arbor Assistant, Travis, and…” the water nymph trailed off, surveying the room, “Where’s…”

Suddenly, a sudden tugging on the left side of her dress caught the commander’s attention. Glancing down to investigate, her blue eyes were met with a younger girl with wide, golden yellow eyes, shimmering with awe.

“Oh, and this is their sister, Aeifael; our little Lady Easter.”

“You’re just like me…” the younger girl marveled.

“Huh? What do you mean?” Nyxis inquired.

“You hate your dress, too! You’re like me, for real!” The rabbit squealed, her large black ears propping up excitedly.

“Aeifael.” Terran warned, glaring at his sister.

“Oh, I remember you,” the elf recalled, “You were the little black rabbit.”

The younger girl’s face curled into a jubilant smile, grabbing onto the commander’s hands, “You remember me?!”

“Well yes, I remember all of you, truthfully,” Nyxis admitted, watching as the rabbit started to jump up and down in place, unable to contain her excitement. 

“Geddeon! Can we keep her? Please?” The girl pleaded, revolving to the tallest of the group.

“Aei, we can’t ‘keep’ people,” the man sighed, his ornate horn decorations jingling with his movement.

It wasn’t until the name was mentioned that the commander realized the prince standing in the group, near between the zephyr nymph and alrune, his regalia of ebony and gold singing under the chandeliers on the vaulted ceiling.

‘I entered enemy territory without realizing…Try to be nice.’

Nyxis nodded curtly to the imp, holding back a twitch in her eye, “Good evening, Your Royal Highness.”

“Good evening, Commander,” Geddeon responded, nodding in kind, “To what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?”

“I received an invitation, and had time in my hectic schedule,” the elf explained, “I was looking forward to a change of scenery and better company,”

“Better company, you say?” An abrasive voice echoed from the side of the group.

In concert with the voice came the rapping of a cane and the harsh tapping of boots. Almost as one the group turned to look behind Nyxis, through her peripheral she could see the disdain on the others faces.

The man behind her was draped in mostly black clothing with gold accents, his tunic was tied together with gilded rope clasped by an orange jeweled broach at the hip. Draped lazily over his shoulders was a decorative green cape, the outer part being a deep forest green while the inner fringe was a poisonous yellow green.

He had bright orange slicked back hair that connected to his muttonchops, his eyes were a muddled green and seemed to leak duplicity with every sweep of the room. 

She could almost hear the clenching of the Prince’s jaw as his own vibrant green eyes made contact with those murky green mirrors.

“Hello, primo!”