#queen astra

[geekgirles]

The Doll and the Dragon

Chapter 5: Brown Eyes, Blue Eyes, Green Eyes

Word Count: 29,752

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Chapter Summary: "Tensions rise when an emissary from Bonta invites the Eliatrope King, his siblings, and especially the Divine Doll living with them to an official event in Bonta, and the fact that Yugo and Amalia's relationship hasn't been quite the same since they came back from their little adventure certainly doesn't help. But things only get more complicated when the appearance of a new rival makes Yugo's blood run cold."

He was mesmerised the moment she stepped into the room. It was as if she alone reflected all the light shining down on them, drawing it to her body and leaving everything else in total darkness.

She was indeed a beacon of light and hope amidst the miserable hole that had become of his existence in the last few centuries. And all because he’d learned too late you couldn’t rely on anyone but yourself. 

Oh, but when his eyes first landed on her, he knew he had finally found the one person who truly deserved to be by his side. Just one wayward look from her brown eyes had been enough to melt his frozen heart, breathing new life into an old carcass whose only single-minded focus had been his people’s protection and well-being. How much they would be able to benefit, having her ruling by his side. Just one look at her was all he needed to know she was the key to solving every single misfortune ailing his people. 

She was simply exquisite. His fingers itched to reach out to her and be able to run his hands up and down her body, marvelling at the unparalleled softness of her mahogany skin; kneading her supple flesh until every inch of her skin was covered with his fingertips. He couldn’t help but bite his own lip at the sight of hers, pouty and plump, beckoning him to bite down on them and taste her. How did he burn to weave his fingers through her forest-green locks, the idea of inhaling her soft fragrance almost enough to bring him over the edge. 

She was simply divine. A true gift from the gods. Her tantalising, childbearing hips swayed back and forth in a most alluring dance, drawing all eyes to her scrumptious figure even as it was hidden from view with those rags he made her wear. 

His gaze turned dark as he left his beloved’s sight to settle on him. So aloof, so distant, so indifferent. So unworthy of her. He didn’t know the true extent of the challenges one must face for his people. He couldn’t treat such a vision of loveliness like she deserved to be treated. He didn’t deserve her.

And there was nothing he wouldn’t do to make her his. 

.....................................................................................................................

Yugo had had no way of knowing the chain of events that day would unravel. In fact, not even Chibi would have been able to predict the turn things were about to take that day. 

The Eliatrope King and his siblings were gathered at the council room, having their first non-Amalia-related meeting practically since she arrived, when he was overtaken by a strong sense of déjà vu. Right as Shinonomé was in the midst of giving her and Qilby’s report on their latest findings on a medicinal herb they’d been growing, the doors burst open, a very disgruntled-looking member of their elite guard panting as he struggled to catch his breath. 

His eyes were wide with shock. 

Before Phaeris could even finish demanding an explanation for why he would interrupt a Council meeting, the guard managed to blurt out an answer that chilled them to their very core: 

“An… an emissary from…from Bonta is here… He… He wishes to…to see you, Your Majesty.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Yugo had already teleported out of the room, his pace brisk and alert at this unexpected development. The pit in his stomach only grew worse when the guard informed him of the emissary’s extraordinary abilities—he only demanded an audience with their king after beating most of the elite guards single-handedly. 

In the midst of such worrisome news, Yugo couldn’t help but be impressed. If he really was that good, then how come he hadn’t been sent alongside the rest of this world’s heroes to face him last time? The thrill-seeking part of him couldn’t help but muse about how that might have actually made things more interesting back then. 

When he finally made it in front of the gates guarding the throne room, the Eliatrope made the split-second decision of not entering through them. That was what their ‘guest’ would have been expecting, after all, and he wasn’t in the mood to entertain any intruders. So, with a snap of his fingers, a portal materialised right underneath his feet and transported him right above his throne, allowing him to land on top of his seat with practised ease. 

Much like what happened the last time they had company, Yugo certainly hadn’t been expecting what stood right in the middle of the room. 

Bonta’s emissary was a remarkably small man, even shorter than Glip. He wore a patched-up grey romper and slippers, with a leather belt adorned by a rather large metal buckle. Beige fingerless gloves covered his hands, and a short-sleeved dark blue coat with a fur collar was draped over his form. He seemed to carry some sort of wooden backpack on his back. 

But the strangest thing of all was his skin. It was dark, remarkably dark. But it wasn’t like Amalia’s mahogany skin. No. Bonta’s ambassador was black as coal from head-to-toe, the only exception was his pointy, grey nose. Even his eyes were black! Truth be told, it took Yugo a minute to realise that, no, his coat’s hood—which was adorned by two woolly antennae—didn’t obscure his face; his face was pitch black, too!

Not for the first time since their arrival, the Eliatrope King quietly wondered to himself just where on the Krozmos his people ended up. The World of Twelve could not be considered normal. First, living dolls sent by the gods, and now this. 

Unbelievable. Simply unbelievable. 

As Yugo and Bonta’s emissary entered a staring contest, both of them willing the other to break the silence first, several flashes of light followed by the sound of someone landing on the floor was all Yugo needed to know his siblings had arrived. The king didn’t even have to break eye contact with their uninvited guest to know Adamaï was hovering beside him. 

Finally, Yugo had had enough. 

“I sure hope you have a good explanation for your intrusion, Mister…?”

“I’m known amongst the Twelvians as Master Joris, Your Majesty.” The emissary, Joris, responded immediately, lowering his body as a sign of respect. “And with all due respect, I believe you should find my explanation more than satisfactory.”

“That I have a hard time imagining.” Yugo commented with a raised eyebrow, before his expression turned dark. “After all, you seem to have attacked some of my guards and trespassed on our property.” 

Joris’ voice remained eerily calm even as he explained himself, “I apologise if any harm has befallen your people, King Yugo, but I was tasked with a mission and fulfilling it is my highest priority.”

“Oh.” It was Adamaï who spoke, sarcasm dripping from his voice as he regarded the ambassador cautiously. “And pray tell, Master Joris, whatever could it be?”

He remained as stone-faced as ever. When he slung his log-backpack out of his shoulders, the Council tensed up immediately, each and every one of them taking on defensive and offensive positions in case the little man tried anything. However, the aggression in their eyes was replaced by pure shock when Master Joris simply placed his backpack on the floor next to him as he lowered himself on one knee as a sign of respect. 

And even that was nothing compared to their astonishment at his next words:

“Queen Astra of Bonta has sent me here to inquire about the Sadida woman living on the island with you.”

At that revelation, Yugo almost choked on his own spit. All around him, his siblings shared worried, perplexed glances at the accusation, even if they tried to hide their surprise around their ‘guest’. A Sadida woman? What? They hadn’t had any contact with the outside world since the Twelvians sent their warriors after him! Where in the Great Goddess’ name did they get that idea from—?

And then the truth dawned on him. 

Amalia.

While it was true Amalia looked indiscernible from a human, she most certainly was not. Her presenting herself in her doll form the very first time they met more than confirmed that. But that still didn’t explain why Bonta’s queen was so certain they harboured a Sadida woman with them. More importantly, it didn’t explain how they’d come to be privy to that piece of information.

If he wanted answers, he would have to be very careful with his wording. 

“I’m afraid I’m obligated to inform you that no Sadida woman lives here, Master Joris.” Technically, that wasn’t a lie. 

Master Joris narrowed his eyes almost imperceptibly. He understood what was going on here. You didn’t become one of the queen of Bonta’s most trusted envoys without learning a thing or two about high politics, after all. If he wanted answers, he would have to provide some of his own until he managed to gather enough intel. 

“With all due respect, my King,” He started, his head bowed in order to appear non-threatening. Although he had to admit it might be too late for that after his treatment of their guards. “We were informed of her presence by some Cra soldiers that were flying over the area. I do not know how deep your knowledge is on the races populating our world, Your Majesty, but a Cra’s sight is second to none, and their sense of honour is unparalleled.” Joris finally raised his head to look deep into the Eliatrope’s eye, his words laced with the utmost seriousness and sincerity. “They would never lie about something like this.”

Yugo’s eyes widened like saucers at his words as they finally provided him with the missing piece to complete the puzzle, and he could sense his siblings had the same reaction. The Cra sentinels from a few weeks ago! But when could they have seen—? But of course! Phaeris informed him of their ‘visit’ the very same day he and Adamaï took Amalia out of the palace. They must have caught sight of her then!

As he gathered his thoughts, Efrim snarled at the emissary, and for once his king was grateful for his distrusting nature, “And what exactly were those Cra doing around our territory in the first place? Does their strong sense of honour not apply to spying on others?”

However, Joris remained unperturbed, meeting the dragon’s accusatory glare with a stony glance of his own. “Rest assured, this has nothing to do with your people being spied on.” He wisely chose not to comment on how, technically speaking, Oma Island wasn’t their territory; they just claimed it for themselves and no one had been willing to take it back yet. “Cra are often sent on reconnaissance all around the World of Twelve. Their stumbling across your people was not their intention.”

Their suspicion hung heavily in the air. While Nora kept her brother from acting rashly, the rest of the Council members all tried to convey the same thing to Yugo through their eyes: “We cannot risk causing further trouble with the Twelvians, find out what he wants and send him away.”

Which was much easier said than done after what Master Joris said next, “It was during one of those missions when, trying to use their eyesight to better locate themselves, they saw a young Sadida woman by your side, Your Majesty.”

His hands clutching at the armrest of his throne for support, Yugo forced himself to remain as composed as possible, knowing how showing too much emotion could have terrible consequences.  

“I understand, Master Joris. However, I maintain we do not have a Sadida woman with us. Those Cra soldiers were mistaken.”

Once again, Master Joris’ whole demeanour remained unchanged. He had seen far too much in his long life to let himself be swayed so easily. “Your Majesty, I beg you to listen to what I have to say: a Cra’s eyes are never mistaken. The other kingdoms are already aware of the situation and on high alert, especially the Sadida Kingdom. They fear you might have taken one of their own.”

Or a betrayal, it’s what went unsaid, but everyone heard it loud and clear nonetheless. 

“If you do not return her to her people or, at the very least, explain why she is here with you, this could result in war.” Joris sentenced, his eyes severe as he implored the Eliatropes to see reason. And yet, despite himself, the dark-skinned Bontarian couldn’t help the feeling of apprehension taking hold of his heart and squeezing it tight. 

Given the outcome of sending their greatest warriors to battle King Yugo, he sincerely feared the Twelvians would fail despite the overwhelming odds in their favour. 

The chance of living in peace with the Twelvians slipping from his fingers right under his nose, Yugo was left with no choice but to make a rash decision. His siblings, especially Adamaï, could chew him out for it later. 

Praying to the Great Goddess that this wouldn’t come back to bite him, he finally said, “We don’t have a Sadida woman living with us.”

Joris barely suppressed the urge to sigh and shake his head ruefully. So that was it, huh? They’d rather face war than come clean. Queen Astra would not like this, and Prince Armand would most likely throw a fit at their insolence, and while King Oakheart would try to remain level-headed and composed, even he would not be able to let this offence go. They were going to war. 

“Thank you for your time, Your Majesty.” Master Joris bowed his head one last time before raising to his feet. However, just as he was about to grab hold of his backpack and be on his way, his fingers froze at the king’s next words just as he was about to reach for the handle:

“She is a Divine Doll sent by the gods themselves as a sign of good will. We have not caused the Sadida nation any harm.”

For the first time in as long as he could remember, Joris allowed himself to lose his composure. Whirling back around to face the Eliatrope monarch—and noting the discreet, astounded looks the blue-and-white dragon by his side sent him—, he couldn’t keep the disbelief out of his voice. 

“What did you just say, Your Majesty?”

For once, it was Yugo who remained unperturbed. “The young woman the Cra saw isn’t a Sadida.” He paused, weighing his next words carefully. “Well, not exactly. She is a Divine Doll that was sent to us by the gods about two months ago. She’s been living with us ever since.”

Joris could not believe his own ears. A Divine Doll, sent to the World of Twelve? After all this time? He had to be sure the Eliatrope King knew what he was talking about. He simply could not know the significance those dolls held to their world. 

“A Divine Doll, you say? And pray tell, which one of Sadida’s ten dolls lives on Oma alongside you, my King?”

Yugo braced himself for what was sure to come next. “His eleventh doll, Amalia.”

Bonta’s emissary almost had to do a double take. Then, he blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. He implored the gods to give him some kind of sign he had heard him wrong. He had to have heard him wrong. There was simply no way he actually said there was an eleventh doll. Had Prince Armand been there, he would have already attacked the Eliatrope with a giant carnivorous plant for daring to disgrace his culture so brazenly. 

“Your Majesty, I’m afraid that is impossible. Sadida only made ten dolls back in the Primitive Era.” He forced his voice to remain as even as possible, choosing his words very carefully. It looked like they indeed had taken a Sadida prisoner and were either mocking their beliefs or she had lied about her identity. For what purpose, he could only wonder. 

“Perhaps that is so.” The new voice forced Joris to turn around in surprise. It belonged to an older-looking Eliatrope with a white tunic and glasses. “Indeed, from what I’ve gathered, Sadida created ten dolls in the Primitive Era, but I believe my king never said anything about this doll being from then.”

The Bontarian furrowed his brow, intrigued. “What are you implying, Master…?”

“Qilby.” He supplied simply, his tone far too affable for the kind of bombshells he was dropping. “And I’m simply speaking the truth, Master Joris. Our dear doll was not created in the Primitive Era, but she was made especially for our king.”

Qilby’s claim feeling like a suckerpunch, he only vaguely registered what the bespectacled Eliatrope said next, “Yugo hasn’t lied once during this entire conversation, Master Joris. The woman the Cra soldiers saw is not a Sadida, yet she is indeed Sadida’s eleventh doll.”

If what they were saying was true… That, that changed everything. He had to make sure. He had to see her with his own two eyes before he risked causing a commotion amongst the Twelvians. If Sadida had truly created a new Divine Doll after all this time… It would shake the very foundations of their civilisation. 

His resolution unshakable, he turned once again to face the King of the Eliatropes, “Your Majesty, I request an audience with this Divine Doll.”

Yugo could feel himself bristle at the request, his death grip on his throne turning his knuckles white. His whole body went taut at the mere notion of introducing Amalia to the Twelvians. For a moment, he seriously considered declining, but then he looked around him, his dark brown eyes registering everyone staring expectantly back at him. He looked at the few guards remaining, the sight reminding him of the fact that Master Joris had only attacked his subjects because he and his people still didn’t consider the Eliatropes as one of their own. 

And then he thought of Amalia, how her presence was supposed to be a sign of good will, a bridge between the Eliatropes and the races native to the World of Twelve. He almost let out a mirthless chuckle at the reminder. The gods sent Sadida’s most precious flower yet they didn’t do anything to ease their worshippers into accepting them. And then, as if his mother Herself were looking out for him, he remembered Qilby’s words from back when Amalia first entered their lives:

“Not even them would be able to reject our presence for much longer if they learned we have their gods’ blessings.”

Yugo couldn’t help but let out a small gasp at the memory. Loath as he was to admit it sometimes, Qilby’s prodigious memory and his matter-of-factly nature had saved him more than once. They reminded him once again of the place Amalia occupied in their lives:

She was their key to earning the Twelvians’ acceptance. 

Ignoring the strange pang in his chest at his thought process, telling him for some reason that wasn’t quite it, the king eventually allowed a pleased smile to tug at the corner of his lip. With a gracious nod towards Master Joris, he turned to the guard that had warned them of the Bontarian’s visit. “Please, Elias, escort Lady Amalia to the throne room.”

“Yes, my King.” With a deep bow, his arm to his chest, Elias did as he was told. As soon as the portal flickered into existence, he was gone. 

Catching Master Joris standing tall—or, well, as tall as someone so short could stand—and alert as he waited for Amalia to arrive, Yugo couldn’t help but feel a little sheepish. With a clear of his throat to gain his attention, as soon as the emissary’s black eyes flickered over to him, he explained, “My apologies, Master Joris, but I would suggest you get comfortable.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty, but if Lady Amalia truly is a Divine Doll, then it is imperative I greet her with the respect she is due. Introducing myself to her while sitting down seems hardly appropriate.”

“Oh, and I respect your commitment to protocol, Master Joris. It’s just that it might take them a little while to arrive.”

“I was under the impression that your portals served to transport you from one place to another almost immediately?”

The emissary didn’t miss the way the king and the dragon by his side exchanged meaningful glances. “That is true. However, Amalia will not be coming through a portal.”

Joris quirked an eyebrow at that.

.......................................................................................................................

Saying Amalia fell off her bed in surprise when one of the palace’s elite guards stepped out of a portal and into her room wouldn’t have been right. So the two of them had agreed not to speak a word of the incident. However, that was nothing compared to how taken aback she’d been upon being informed Yugo requested her presence at the throne room. 

As Amalia kindly rejected the guard’s—Elias, he introduced himself as—offer to go through one of his portals and allowed herself to be escorted to the throne room, the doll couldn’t help but let her mind wander. The current state of her relationship with the Eliatrope King at the forefront of her mind. 

The distance he drew between the two of them hadn’t lessened any in the past few weeks. If anything, it only grew a little bit wider each passing day. It was so frustrating, to know the cordiality you were treated with was nothing compared to the warmth you’d once been subjected to. The kindness and care Yugo used to treat her with could put the sun’s rays to shame, whereas now that stiff politeness of him could put out any fire. 

They had yet to have any more meaningful conversations since they returned from the beach, their current interactions amounted to little more than pointless small talk and awkward greetings. The longest the two of them had held a conversation as of late had been when she begged him to talk to Glip and Baltazar about attending their classes. 

Ever since then she shared longer, more meaningful conversations with her classmates, some of whom still had trouble remembering irregular verbs, mind you; than the one person on Oma she thought she could call her friend. 

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t frustrated. And mad. Oh, she was so mad at him for daring to give her the cold shoulder without so much of an explanation! One second they were out and about on their first adventure and having a great time, and the next he acted like having her around was physically painful! And now he summoned her to the throne room like nothing happened? Now he wanted to talk to her?

What gives?! 

And why the throne room, of all places!? Couldn’t he have just knocked on her door to talk to her like a normal person? Or, seeing as he was anything but ‘normal’, was it really so hard to visit her balcony and ask for a moment of her time? Apparently it was, for he just had to summon her to the freakin’ throne room like a gobball to the slaughterhouse. 

Stealing a quick glance at Elias’ back, the Divine Doll went to discreetly and quickly rub the side of her face with the back of her hands, trying to keep the tears at bay. More than anything she felt hurt. So terribly, incredibly hurt. Her heart would give an uncomfortable squeeze whenever she dwelled too much on her own loneliness. And yet, she couldn’t help but wrack her brain every night as she went to sleep in a desperate attempt to make sense of it all. But no matter how much she tossed and turned and tortured herself, she always came up empty-handed. She just couldn’t understand. 

All she knew was Yugo was pushing her away and she didn’t even know what she’d done wrong. 

Just as the stinging in her eyes was beginning to become too much to bear and Amalia could feel her throat beginning to constrict into watery sobs, Elias halted abruptly. Looking up in surprise, she saw they had finally made it to the throne room. They’d finally made it to Yugo. 

Placing a hand against the gates, the guard asked her, “Are you ready, Lady Amalia?”

Scrambling to blink her tears away and to smooth out her clothes and touch up her hair, all in an attempt to present herself as put-together as possible despite her turbulent thoughts, Amalia gave him a resolute nod. 

“Yes, I’m ready. Thank you, Elias.”

With a nod of his own, the young guard opened the gates and welcomed her inside. Entering that room for the first time since she first arrived, Amalia let her gaze wander and reacquaintance itself with what lay inside. 

Supporting the weight of the massive oval dome acting as their roof stood eight malachite columns forming an arch, causing the light filtered through the windows to bathe everything in a greenish blue hue. Each of them were separated by what at first glance looked like large stained glass windows but that, upon closer inspection, one could see were actually portals connecting to the different areas around the island to grant their subjects easier access—something she learned from asking Glip about their own portals located around their classroom. 

Standing on the other side of the room, meant to be the first thing you saw upon opening the doors, was a long staircase connected to the throne. Amalia hadn’t seen many in the relatively short time she’d been alive, but she had to admit the sight was as impressive now as it had been when she first arrived. Sculpted in stone, the back of the throne branched into two large and imposing dragon wings; an actual green-coloured stained glass window depicting the Eliatropes’ emblem—a spiral formed by an Eliatrope baby and a dragon cub—could be seen right between the two wings.

Now that she looked more closely, Amalia could make out six hollowed spaces located at specific spots on the wings, but before she could try and discern what they truly were, she was brought back to the present by her heart skipping a beat when she accidentally locked eyes with Yugo. 

Heat coming to her cheeks at their brief interaction, she bashfully turned her head away, reprimanding herself on seemingly forgetting she was supposed to be mad at him. Just as she did that, however, her gaze ended up on a mysterious little man instead, the sight causing her to blink in surprise. This time, she had to bring a hand to her chest at the powerful thud resounding in her ribcage at the sight of him. 

She didn’t know how or why, but this man held a lot of power. She could just feel it. 

Yugo’s voice cut through the fog in her mind, and she had to bite down her bottom lip to prevent herself from sighing. She hated how much she missed the sound of his voice.

“Amalia, allow me to introduce you to Master Joris.” He gestured at the man from his throne. “He’s been sent here on behalf of the queen of Bonta.”

Amalia blinked, shocked. Oh, that… That was new. Shaking her head slightly to gather herself up, she curtsied to their guest. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Master Joris.”

For his part, Joris had to admit that for the first time in a very long time he was left quite stumped. The young lady before him was a true vision of loveliness, with her soft and delicate features, her silky green hair, her doe-like eyes, and her elegant figure. He had a feeling she had to be the most beautiful Sadida he had ever laid his eyes on. The only one he believed could eclipse her beauty was the late Queen Sheran Sharm, whose hand had been the most coveted amongst the nations until she eventually chose to marry King Oakheart. 

Truth be told, the resemblance was uncanny. 

However, perfect as Lady Amalia looked, she was still just a Sadida. Her complete lack of doll-like attributes like stitches or the leafy headband Divine Dolls were known for were proof enough of her utter lack of divinity. 

“The pleasure is all mine, Lady Amalia.” He greeted back, his manners impeccable even as he feared he was being duped. “Forgive me for being so brazen, my Lady, but His Majesty has informed me of your heritage?”

“My heritage…?” She echoed, not sure where this was going. 

“Indeed. I was told you are Sadida’s eleventh doll.” He explained. “And that you were sent here by the gods?”

Oh, so that was what he meant. Amalia let a small smile grace her features. “That is correct, Master Joris. Father created me to be Yugo’s’ bride.” She stated proudly, completely unaware of the way her declaration had Yugo panicking inside. Okay, he did not mean for that piece of information to slip out. And judging by the way Master Joris’ eyes widened in surprise, there was no way he hadn’t heard her. 

Ignoring the way the Council of Six collectively lost their minds as they tried to figure out how to do damage control of the situation without screaming their lungs out hysterically, Amalia went on, “He says I am his masterpiece.”

Even in the midst of his internal screaming, Yugo couldn’t help but agree with the Leafy God. Amalia was truly a marvel of nature. Regardless of how her sisters had turned out, it was clear the nature god had outdone himself. Which, more often than not, only made his already difficult life harder.

“I am sure Sadida Himself is very proud of the outcome, Your Grace… if what you say it’s true.”

That made her frown, uncertain. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I beg your pardon, Lady Amalia, but I was sent here to inquire about the sighting of a Sadida woman living on Oma Island alongside the Eliatropes. You see, such a thing could have rather… unfortunate consequences we ought to avoid. Which is why I am here, to make sure there is nothing to worry about.”

“But there isn’t any Sadida woman living on Oma Island…” Amalia muttered, squinting her eyes, uncomprehending. 

“That is what King Yugo said as well, yes.” Joris nodded, before his dark gaze met Amalia’s brown eyes, a small shiver running down her spine at the intensity of his stare. “He explained you’re actually a Divine Doll, but I’m afraid that is something I must verify myself.” Then, raising his palm up, he gestured towards her, “If you don’t mind…”

Despite the rocky state their relationship was in, Amalia found herself staring back at Yugo for guidance. “I don’t understand…”

His heart squeezing in pity at the sight of the doll’s discomfort, Yugo offered, “I believe Master Joris is trying to ask you for some proof that you are indeed a Divine Doll, Amalia.” His voice was so soft and reassuring he surprised even himself.

He tried to ignore the way his siblings exchanged knowing glances as they gestured at him with their heads.

Again, Amalia blinked, only this time she was more surprised at the simplicity of the answer. “Oh, really?” She asked, turning back to the emissary for confirmation.

“If it’s not too much trouble, my Lady…”

While Master Joris remained as stoic and alert as always, his hands behind his back as he awaited for Amalia to prove her identity, the Eliatropes and their dragons braced themselves. Adamaï in particular snapped his mouth tightly shut. They were already used to the doll’s demonstrations of divine power and were half expecting some kind of mystical wind to pick up at any given time and scoop Amalia up while leaving a mess of leaves or flower petals in its wake. 

In fact, they were so ready for some kind of chaos to ensue they couldn’t decide whether to be disappointed or relieved when Amalia disappeared behind a harmless puff of smoke instead. Both the Council of Six and Master Joris could only look on, perplexed, as a small brown and green rag doll emerged from the puff of smoke and walked over to Bonta’s emissary. 

As soon as they were just a few inches apart, Amalia smiled up at a speechless Master Joris before bowing down deeply. “As I said, my name is Amalia, Master Joris. I am Sadida’s eleventh Divine Doll. I hope this is enough to prove my identity.”

For his part, Joris just… stared, almost unblinkingly. Okay, even he had to admit this was new. On the bright side, it also proved that Lady Amalia was definitely one of Sadida’s dolls. 

Snapping out of his trance, he cleared his throat a little awkwardly. He returned Amalia’s bow with a small one of his own. “It is more than enough, my Lady. My apologies for doubting you.”

“I trust this is enough to assuage your queen and the other nations’ concerns?” Yugo stated, his demeanour outwardly calm despite the undercurrent of powerful emotions running below his skin. He didn’t even have to look to know his siblings shared the same fears: the last thing their people needed was another war for their right to exist. 

Which is why a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders when Master Joris nodded in response. “Rest assured, Your Majesty. This should be enough to put our rulers at ease.” But just as Yugo and his siblings were about to release a sigh of relief, the emissary’s next words caused them to stiffen up again, “However, I hope you will understand I must inform them of Lady Amalia’s true nature. This kind of development, Sire, is… It’s truly astounding for our people, you see.”

“I understand.” The Eliatrope barely suppressed the urge to groan and rub his face in aggravation. Still, there was something he had to ask. “But do tell me, Master Joris, will this affect my people and our relationship with your leaders in any way?”

“All I can say for certain, King Yugo, is that they will surely grow interested. As I said, Lady Amalia’s presence is a very serious matter.”

“Do you mean my presence might cause problems?” Amalia inquired with a worried hand to her chest, her doll-like appearance only showcasing the vulnerability she was displaying at that moment. She had mostly remained silent during the two men’s exchange, but her worries had spiked up at the thought of causing trouble for the Eliatropes. 

Distantly, Yugo couldn’t help but notice it was kind of adorable… Before realising what he was thinking and forcing himself to focus on the conversation at hand with a shake of his head.

Master Joris was quick to raise his hands in a placating manner. “Oh, no, my Lady. It’s not that. Trust me, no Twelvian would be foolish enough to try anything against one of Sadida’s dolls.” From the corner of his eye, Yugo could see Nora releasing a sigh of relief at that. He honestly felt the same way, as it meant their people should be safe as long as Amalia was with them. His eyes flickered back to the ambassador when the Bontarian added, “Although I should probably warn you your presence will warrant their interest in you. Expect more news from Bonta in the near future.” He told that last part to Yugo, turning to meet him directly in the eye. 

“We will, Master Joris. Thank you for your visit.” It’s what he said, but deep down Yugo was far too occupied begging Eliatrope to let this be a one-time thing. 

And thus, with one last polite bow to both the king and his bride, Master Joris picked his backpack up and, under everyone’s astounded gaze, disappeared in the blink of an eye, a gust of wind the only indication he had ever been there. 

“Okay, I think it’s high time I said what’s on everyone’s minds”, Chibi spoke up for the first time since they met their unexpected guest, gesturing wildly at the space he had just occupied, “What in the Great Goddess’ name was that guy?!”

While his siblings shared their theories on the mysterious little man that had just turned their world upside down, Yugo’s eyes fleetingly met Amalia’s, before the two of them averted their gazes as quickly as if they’d been burned, a flush on their cheeks that didn’t go unnoticed by Adamaï.

.........................................................................................................................

Sure enough, just as Master Joris had promised, barely a week after his surprise visit, a Cra-crafted magic arrow drove itself into a wall, startling them all. To say Glip almost had a heart attack as he saw it pass right under his nose, literally, would be an understatement. With class cancelled that day due to the sudden fright, the Council of Six met up once again for an urgent meeting, apprehension behind their every move as they all gathered around their king to discover the contents of the letter. 

Unsurprisingly, it was a letter from Master Joris informing them of Queen Astra and the other rulers’ reaction upon discovering they harboured Sadida’s youngest daughter. Surprisingly—and by that they meant shockingly, astonishingly, heart-attack-worthily—, the World of Twelve’s different nations had convened amongst themselves and reached the decision to extend the Eliatropes an invitation to Bonta, where they would all meet up in a banquet meant to celebrate such wondrous occasion. 

All they asked of the Eliatropes in return was that both King Yugo and Lady Amalia were present. Beyond that, any other member of their ruling class was welcomed to attend as well. 

Once they got over their initial shock and excitement over what that could mean to their people, the most cautious members of the Council—namely, Mina, Phaeris, Chibi, and Grougaloragran—warned them they had to be careful. As great an opportunity as it was, they could not let their guards down, therefore, it would be wise if some members stayed behind to oversee and protect their kingdom in case of an attack or an emergency. 

They all agreed wholeheartedly with that. Not surprisingly, Efrim was the first to volunteer to stay behind, and Yugo couldn’t help but feel grateful for that. His youngest brother’s hostile and distrustful nature, especially around Amalia, would not do them any favours with improving their relationship with the Twelvians. And seeing as Glip, Baltazar, and Shinonomé would remain as well and they weren’t exactly battle-oriented, then having the more combat-ready Efrim around was actually the wisest choice. 

As they all discussed how they would proceed and how they would behave at the festivities, Yugo couldn’t help the strangled yelp that escaped his lips when Nora roughly grabbed him by the hood and yanked him down to her eye-level. Her pink eyes glimmered with the utmost seriousness, the kind that she usually reserved solely for battle. 

Struggling out of her grip, he scowled at her. “Nora, what are you doing?!”

But she remained unbothered, her hands on her hips and her face as expressive as a rock. Rather than acknowledge his rightful outburst, she just stated flatly. “You have to summon the Royal tailor. Now.”

The king’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Are you sure? I mean, it’s true it’s been a while since we last donned more formal clothing, but—.”

“It’s not that!” Nora snapped. Giving her brother’s words some thought, though, her hand to her chin, she then admitted. “Alright, that too. After all, we can’t exactly present ourselves to what’s supposed to be a civilised party wearing our battlesuits; we must showcase our people’s own rich heritage and history to the other rulers. But that’s not what I meant!”

“Then what did you mean?”

Nora actually rubbed her face in frustration, groaning exasperatedly as she went. Each passing day the reason why Yugo never got married was less of a mystery and more of a foregone conclusion. 

“Amalia, Yugo. I mean Amalia! The Twelvians think she’s your bride, meaning she will be our queen!” She hissed, causing her brother to flinch at her outburst. “If we want to show them we are serious about coexisting peacefully, we must show them Amalia is one of us so they'll have no chance to try and drive us away!”

Just as she finished her little spiel, she brought a hand behind her back and opened a portal. Sticking her hand inside, she flicked Efrim in the back as a warning to keep his mouth shut. Knowing him, no doubt he was about to protest and insist the Sadida Doll was definitely not one of them.

“Nora is right.” Shinonomé agreed, coming to stand by her sister as she stared directly into her king’s eyes. “As impressive as Amalia’s shapeshifting can be, I highly doubt she’ll be able to replicate our traditional ceremonial clothing. She needs a professional’s help.”

“Grougaloragran would appreciate a new ceremonial tunic as well.” The black dragon piped up, though he shrank a little into himself at the unimpressed glances his siblings were sending him. Feeling a little bashful, he rushed out to say, “That and we should show the Twelvians we are taking this invitation seriously. We must look the part.”

Yugo could only look back and forth between his siblings in disbelief, his mouth agape. Groaning quietly to himself, a hand to his temple to soothe his rapidly impending headache, he couldn’t take it anymore. Sometimes his siblings were impossible. 

“Whoah, whoah, whoah!” He exclaimed loud enough for them to hear. After a short while of him gesturing wildly at them, their heads finally snapped to look back at their king, expectantly. “Have you all forgotten already?! Despite what Master Joris and the Twelvians seem to believe, Amalia is not my bride! I’ll have to clear up any misunderstandings at the celebration before they can cause any trouble!”

“Well, duh.” Phaeris chimed in, shrugging. Yugo could feel himself staring owlishly at the turquoise dragon; that had to be the least dignified reaction he’d seen of him in the several centuries they’d been alive during their current reincarnation. 

Unperturbed by his king’s stare, the dragon went on, as if what he was about to say were common sense, “It is important we explain the situation with Lady Amalia, it’s true. Otherwise, they might accuse us of lying to serve our own purposes.”

Some of the tension left Yugo’s body. “Yes, that’s right. Thank you, Phaeris.”

But Phaeris wasn’t done. “But, as Nora pointed out, it is also imperative we make it clear that Lady Amalia is with us, lest we risk being deemed as undeserving by the other nations and they try to take her away.”

“Which would then rob us of any immunity Lady Amalia’s presence might grant us by virtue of her being a Divine Doll.” Mina finished for him, sharing a meaningful nod with her twin. 

“In other words, you’d better summon the Royal tailor as soon as possible, Yugo. We’re going shopping!” Nora announced, throwing one hand in the air in celebration. Truth be told, the tone of her voice sounded more like she was just looking forward to getting some new clothing, rather than preparing for an extremely important diplomatic mission.

As the rest of the Council murmured in agreement all around him, Mina and Chibi discussing things like the overall design of the outfits they would commission, Yugo eventually gave up with a sigh and a helpless shrug. He arched an eyebrow when Adamaï landed softly by his side, an encouraging grin on his maw. 

“Look on the bright side, Brother. You’ve been thinking about summoning the Royal tailor on Amalia’s behalf for a while now. Now’s your chance.” He winked playfully at him.

Yugo snorted at his brother’s antics. “Oh, Ad. You always know just what to say.” He rolled his eyes, only half-joking.

......................................................................................................................

Lately, the best way Amalia had to describe her life would be by saying each day felt like a tornado passed by and turned it all upside down, swooping her up as it went. One day Yugo summoned her to the throne room where she had to prove her identity to a mysterious little man overflowing with power beyond mortal comprehension, and the next there was a knock on her door she barely had a few seconds to even respond to before a bearded, older-looking Eliatrope came rushing in and started taking her measurements and talking about fabrics, and complementary colours and ball gown shapes and who knew what else.

Amalia was convinced not even her father had pricked her with a needle as many times as this man—the Royal tailor, apparently—had when he was sewing her up. And she was a doll Sadida made from scratch!

Now, despite her limited time on the World of Twelve, Amalia had to admit she had grown to be quite coquettish. It didn’t take long for her to develop a healthy kind of appreciation for quality clothing and looking one’s best. And when the tailor told her she had been summoned to Bonta alongside the Council of Six, she was more than willing to go along with it and look the part. 

What she wasn’t so appreciative about, however, was spending countless hours still as a statue as she had her measurements taken and her skin pricked by needles. And finding out about said invitation through the tailor and his assistants when it should have been from Yugo was just the last nail on the coffin. Especially when, apparently, the Twelvians expected her to go as Yugo’s plus-one. 

That little son of a weed was starting to really get on her nerves. In fact, Amalia remembered she couldn’t keep her temper from flaring at such revelation, to the point she ended up startling the poor tailor half to death when she stomped on the floor in frustration and her bed shot up to the ceiling in response, the action causing a small tremor to echo around the palace. 

One thing was to avoid her—which was a very hurtful thing to do to a friend in the first place—, but to send literally anyone else to tell her important news, especially when they concerned the two of them? She was starting to get really sick and tired of whatever game Yugo was playing. 

A scoff escaped her lips, which earned her the curious glances of the guards escorting her. But she paid them no mind. She was far too busy wallowing in her own bitterness. She was so angry she had to bite down on her bottom lip to keep herself from groaning in aggravation.

So he wanted to play, huh? Fine, she would play along. She would go to the banquet in Bonta as his partner, play the part, but she was done being the only one always making an effort to get close to each other. So his definition of friendship was to be distant and aloof? Fine. That was exactly how she was gonna be. 

The Sadida Doll had just made up her mind when she was finally led to the palace entrance, where she’d meet up with Yugo and the rest of the attending members of the Council before they all left for Bonta. Despite the large gates leading outside being closed, the doll could still make out the excited chatter coming from the other side. The Royal tailor had been so kind as to inform her they would address their people first before parting for Bonta, hence the location where they would meet up at. 

Fine by her. She had yet to truly meet any non-Primordial Eliatropes beyond the palace staff and the children. 

As she waited for the Council to appear, Amalia took some time to admire her new clothes. In the end, she had to admit she liked her new dress a lot more than she had been expecting she would. 

More importantly, she had been pleasantly surprised to find out she quite enjoyed the simple elegance it conveyed. She wore a modest cream silk dress that reached down to her feet and left her shoulders and arms exposed. Apparently, that colour had been chosen precisely so it would create a nice contrast with her dark skin. The tailor had described it as having a semi-sweetheart neckline and a mermaid skirt, although he insisted it would not impede her mobility and the skirt was specifically designed to flare with her movements. And Amalia had to admit she liked the way it fluttered around her as she walked. 

While primarily white, the dress wasn’t without a touch of colour. A forest green sash was tied around her waist, with the ends hanging from the centre and going all the way down to just above her shins. A golden belt buckle showcasing the Eliatropes’ emblem helped fasten it. And draped around her shoulders was a large, sheer equally green shawl. The fabric was big enough to act almost like a cape. Much like the belt buckle, it was fastened around her neck with a matching golden brooch with their emblem engraved on it. 

As for her hair, for once Amalia wore it almost entirely loose, allowing it to stretch down to its actual length—just below her upper back. A simple high bun held together by a modest headband completed the hairdo. 

Despite how peeved she was feeling at the moment, Amalia had to admit both the Royal tailor and his assistants had done a splendid job. She would have to thank them later. 

Her good mood instantly soured as soon as she registered the familiar flash of blue light from the corner of her eyes. The soft thud! coming from beside her as well as the fact that she could feel someone towering over her was all she needed to know Yugo and his siblings had arrived. 

“Good afternoon, Amalia.”

Wait, that was it? That was all he had to say after so long without even speaking a word to each other? Just a simple greeting? No apology due to how he’d been acting? No further explanation as to what they’d be up against? Didn't he have anything to say about how she looked?!

The Divine Doll grit her teeth and clenched her fist so hard she almost drew blood, trying to restrain herself. She had already decided she wouldn’t let him affect her anymore. Forcing herself to take a calming breath through her nose, she turned to look back at Yugo…and was left frozen on the spot, although she could feel her cheeks grow hot at the sight. 

Much like herself, Yugo had dressed himself up for the occasion. And much to her chagrin, her eyes immediately travelled up and down his body in admiration as her brain struggled to process what was going on. 

While he still wore a blue hooded cloak, this one had more golden details than his usual one, with gold lining up the seams beyond just the hood. Even in her speechless state, a part of Amalia couldn’t help but find it odd that he insisted on covering his head despite going on official business with the other monarchs, although she was oddly relieved and endeared to see it wasn't enough to hide the fact that he’d braided the bangs framing his face. She hated how adorable it looked. Instead of his usual bodysuit, he wore white harem pants and sandals, and while his dark blue fingerless gloves remained, the same couldn’t be said about his sleeves, as he wore an equally blue, sleeveless, high neck top with more golden lining highlighting his pectorals and sides. A silk sash the same colour as his cloak tied to the side of his waist completed the ensemble, joining both halves of his outfit seamlessly.

However, what really caught her eye about the ensemble was how the lack of sleeves brought attention to the weird markings on his arms. They were like spirals going up and down his arms, snaking around his forearms and curling it on themselves on his shoulders and wrists. It was definitely strange, and yet, the weirdest thing of all had to be how those markings looked more like scars, for the skin they covered was of a darker tone as the rest of him. 

She must have been staring a little too hard, for after letting out what sounded like an awkward cough, Yugo eventually explained. “These are ceremonial Wakfung tattoos.” He gestured at them. “It’s not customary for Eliatropes to get them—if you look closely, you’ll see none of my siblings have them—, but I find they help to better project and manipulate wakfu. Ad has them too, though only in his true dragon form.”

Blinking slowly in surprise—partly at the information and partly because that was the longest he’d spoken to her in a while—, Amalia finally turned her focus back at the remaining members of the Council of Six. Sure enough, not only did they not have the same markings as Yugo on their skin, but they also wore similar clothes to him, even if they shared the same colour palette as their regular outfits or had little details that helped them to stand out. For example, Nora wore a bandana around her neck, no doubt meant to act like her usual mask; and Chibi had pieces of gold scattered all over his clothes; Mina was the only one beside herself to wear a dress, and her hat was more elaborate than usual, with even more details embroidered onto it; and Qilby… Well, he looked marginally less haggard than normal. 

Adamaï, Grougaloragran, and Phaeris, however, looked the same except for Grougal’s tunic looking a little more regal. Amalia supposed it made sense; as dragons they didn’t have much use for clothing in the first place. 

She was so engrossed in her own thoughts, she couldn’t stifle the gasp that let her mouth when Yugo interlocked their arms, the crook of her arm coming to rest against his. She was so startled by the action she almost forgot to be angry at him. But she recovered just in time to discreetly puff out her cheeks in annoyance. 

“Are you ready, Amalia?” He asked, and for a moment she hated how genuinely concerned he sounded. But she was not going to fall for his fake pleasantries again. 

Her tone was flat when she answered, “Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”

Before Yugo had time to dwell on the apparent lack of her usual excitement, Chibi turned to address the guards standing by the door. “Open the gates.”

“Yes, sir!” With their customary greeting, they pulled the rope that served to open the large doors, giving way to the excited crowd outside as they cheered and celebrated their leaders. 

“Long live the Council of Six! Long live King Yugo!”

“May the Great Goddess be with you!”

“All hail our leaders!”

After a few more minutes of cheering and applause, Yugo raised his hand as a silent request for his subjects to quiet down. Seeing the gesture, little by little, the noise around them died down, the Eliatropes present waiting for their king to speak. 

Yugo allowed a reassuring smile to tug at the corner of his lips. “My beloved people, as you all know, we have been granted a once-in-a-lifetime chance to prove our intentions are pure to the natives of this world. It is our duty, as your leaders, not to let you down.”

“Today we will be travelling to Bonta,” Chibi continued, his tone measured and collected. Amalia was sure that had to be the most serious she ever heard him. “From what we’ve gathered, the city is one of the most prosperous and powerful nations in all of the World of Twelve. And such, it is imperative we leave a lasting impression on them, for this could be the first step into receiving their blessing to live alongside the Twelvians.”

“We promise to both gather information regarding our neighbours and to prove our own worth as a kingdom.” Qilby added, adjusting his glasses with one finger. 

“Hopefully, by the time this is over, we will have earned their respect and will be one step closer to finally earning their trust.” Nora went on, her pink gaze betraying her hopes for what the night might entail.

As the members of the Council kept on talking and assuring their people they would do everything in their power to bridge the gap between Twelvians and Eliatropes—something Amalia still didn’t fully understand but no one bothered to tell her about—, the Divine Doll felt a hand tugging at the skirt of her dress. Blinking in surprise, she looked down and found herself face-to-face with a beaming little girl. 

She remembered her from class, her name was Camilla and she was very shy but very sweet once you got to know her. Which was why it was such a shock that she seemed to have overcome her shyness to hand a flower to her, a small blush on her cheeks.

Oh. That explained the little prick of pain she felt earlier.

Allowing her first genuine smile of the day to grace her features, Amalia leaned down and gracefully took the flower from the girl’s hands and placed it at the base of her bun. And with that, little Camilla beamed up at the Sadida Doll once more before going back to her parents. 

It was at that moment that Amalia realised things had got oddly quiet. Looking back at the crowd, she almost flinched upon realising they were all staring back at her. Her second mistake was subconsciously glancing at Yugo for answers, the sight causing her chest to constrict almost painfully.

The way the Eliatrope King was looking at her—his eyes glimmering with fondness and an unfairly adorable grin on his lips—was as soft as butter. Despite the way her heart skipped a beat, a part of Amalia wished he wouldn’t look at her like that, not when he had spent weeks avoiding her like the plague. It was simply unfair.

What he said next almost brought her to tears. 

“I would like to thank Amalia especially for making all of this possible.” He said, and the doll couldn’t decide between swooning at his words or smack him on the back of his head with a vine. “Without her, who knows how long it would have taken the other nations to express an interest in getting to know us.”

“Long live Lady Amalia!” The Eliatropes gathered exclaimed almost in perfect unison. 

In spite of her turbulent emotions, the green-haired beauty had to admit it felt rather nice to have your name chanted like that. 

Just then, Qilby stepped forward, holding several glass bottles in his hands. He took one and raised it high above for all to see. “These potions were sent to us by the ambassador of Bonta himself. Apparently, they will transport us directly to the palace, where the banquet will take place.” After he said that, he distributed each and every one of them amongst his siblings and the doll. 

As she took hers and stared back at it, Amalia thanked Sadida for their existence. She could not promise her new dress would arrive intact at Bonta had she had to travel through one of Yugo’s portals again. 

Yugo himself spoke next, taking the cap off and raising his own potion up, an action they all soon mimicked. “For our future!” And he gulped down the magic beverage.

“For our future!” The Council repeated, following suit and drinking their own, with Amalia scrambling to do the same. 

And in a literal flash, they were gone.

.................................................................................................................

When her eyes finally adjusted to the change in lighting filtering through her eyelids after drinking the potion, she finally opened her big brown eyes to take it all in. What she saw caused her to let out a gasp of surprise. 

They had been transported into a moderately-sized hexagonal room with white marble walls, royal blue tapestries hanging from some of them while the others held portraits of what she could only assume were relevant figures in Bontarian history. She was inclined to believe they were previous rulers, as they all wore some sort of golden crown with wings. Beyond that, there were potted plants adorning the corners—they were healthy, she could tell, but they would definitely benefit from some actual soil and sunlight. 

“Looks like they’re waiting for us.” Nora piped up, drawing Amalia’s attention with her. 

Her eyes landing where the pink-eyed Eliatrope was staring at, the doll finally took notice of the large royal blue with golden hinged doors right in front of them, the cacophony of voices coming from behind. Amalia couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. It felt like all she did lately was wait in front of doors.

“So, how long do we have to wait for?” Chibi asked no one in particular. “Do we just go in or…?”

“Phaeris believes it is customary to wait until one is formally introduced by an announcer. Perhaps that is the case here as well.” The turquoise dragon pointed out. 

“For once we agree, Phaeris.” Qilby murmured, rolling his eyes alongside his dragon sibling upon making eye-contact with each other. With a low scoff, he adjusted his glasses over his nose. “I suggest we wait until we are formally introduced.”

“And what if no one is supposed to introduce us?” Adamaï questioned, an eyebrow raised. 

“Then we wait for Bonta's little errand boy to come find us.” The eldest Eliatrope said dismissively. 

As the others were discussing how and when they should step through the doors to meet the other leaders waiting for them, Amalia was momentarily startled by Yugo placing his hand over the one resting on the crook of his forearm. Even though she knew it was meant to be a polite way to ask for her attention, given his recent behaviour towards her, to the doll it felt more like a loud demand. 

“Amalia, remember how you introduced yourself to Master Joris?” He asked, momentarily taking her aback. Then again, what else was new with this man?

“You mean the first or the second time?” She shot back, trying to keep her voice cool and unaffected. 

“Uh… The second one. When you transformed to prove your identity.”

“Oh. Yes, I remember.” She nodded. “Why do you ask?”

“Do you remember you told him you’re supposed to be my bride?”

Her eyes widened as realisation finally hit her. Oh. That. She had been so caught up trying to assure Master Joris she truly was a Divine Doll and talking about how her father had created her, she totally forgot about that little detail. More specifically, the fact that she had been told that wouldn’t be happening almost as soon as she stepped foot in Oma. 

She averted her eyes as she shyly pushed her fringe away, embarrassed. “I’m sorry about that, Yugo. I really wasn’t thinking about that back then.”

“It’s okay, Amalia.” He told her reassuringly, and at that moment she wanted nothing more than for him to stop being so good to her if he was only going to go back to ignoring her once this was over. “Don’t worry, I’ll clear up the misunderstanding. But I need you to do something for me. Is that okay?”

“What is it?”

“My people, they… We need this. We need to leave a good impression on this world’s rulers, and you’re our key to achieving that.” He swallowed, as if to give himself some time to gather his thoughts and find the right words to say. His hold on her hand tightened a little. “My siblings and I believe the Twelvians will be more welcoming of our people if they see you’ve become one of us. So even if you’re not my bride, we… I need you to show them that your home is Oma Island, that your presence among us is indeed the gods giving us their blessing to live on their world. Do you think… Do you think you can do that?”

Even though he was in no position to ask any favours of her right now, not after the way he’d treated her lately, or the fact that the way he phrased it made it sound like he himself didn’t believe her being sent to them was meant as a sign of good will from the gods—from her father—, Amalia had to bite down the retort forming on the tip of her tongue. Despite everything, he was right. She still didn’t know what the situation was like between the Eliatropes and the Twelvians, but the more time passed, the more she felt it couldn’t be good. 

Even if no one told her upfront, it was clear to see if you paid close attention. Like the way Yugo insisted she wouldn’t be able to leave the island even when she was allowed to explore with him by her side. Or the children’s wistful sighs and longing looks at the thought of playing outside of Oma’s confines. Or the way the entire Council and palace staff seemed on edge as soon as Master Joris arrived. 

Whatever the reason, this was important to all of them. And she couldn’t risk jeopardising it just because she was mad at Yugo. 

So with a sigh and a heavy heart, yet feeling determined by her choice, Amalia gently squeezed his hand back. “Rest assured, Yugo. You and your people have welcomed me to your kingdom, and now I shall honour our agreement. You can count on me.”

If the king noticed the way she was back to talking in an overly formal manner with him after so long, he didn’t show. Instead, he just smiled down at the doll. “Thank you, Amalia. Really, it means a lot.”

Not trusting her own voice, the Sadida Doll limited herself to nodding. 

Finally, it looked as if Phaeris’ prediction had been right, because they were all brought back to the present by the sound of trumpets being played coming from the other side of the doors. Then, as they all took positions to present themselves as composed and regally as possible, a nasally voice announced, “Presenting King Yugo of the Eliatropes and Lady Amalia, accompanied by the distinguished members of the Council of Six Adamaï, Chibi, Grougaloragran, Mina, Phaeris, Nora, and Qilby.”

“Why do I gotta go last? I’m the eldest!” She heard Qilby grumble to himself, before he let out a little, outraged huff. 

No sooner was the announcer done speaking, did the gates open up, bathing the waiting room in the bright lights coming from the incredibly vast ballroom, a cacophony of voices echoing around the walls as they all took their visitors in. 

As they made their way inside, his hold on Amalia tight but not too much as to not risk hurting her, for he feared the Twelvians would try to separate her from him—from them!—, Yugo wasted no time scanning the room. Many of the people present he recognised from their botched attempt at introducing themselves, when they accidentally crashed a meeting between the world’s leaders, but many others he did not remember. While most of the guests appeared to be Bontarians, many others had more defined races, which suggested they belonged to their respective ruler’s entourage. 

Or maybe Bonta was that much of a cosmopolitan and multiethnic area. That, he didn’t know.

For her part, Amalia was enraptured at the prospect of finally meeting the gods’ followers. As her eyes travelled around the space in search of her father’s people—in search of her people—, she could finally see for herself how, indeed, a god’s worshippers inherited some key aspects from their deity. 

Eniripsa’s followers shared their patron goddess’ delicate features and fairy-like wings, all of them traits that underlaid their unparalleled skill at tending to the ill and wounded without even batting an eyelash. She had trouble understanding why Fecas had blue hair while their goddess was a dark brunette, but the golden, horned armour some of them wore was unmistakable. Cra had inherited their goddess’ golden hair, pointy ears, and poise, even if Amalia had to admit the older woman who seemed to act as their leader hadn’t exactly inherited the same astonishing beauty as her father’s dear friend. 

While, oddly enough, female Sram were pretty much regular, masked women, it was plain to see their god’s skull-like features through his male followers. All Ecaflips present seemed to replicate their god’s feline grace, and the way she could spot several of them playing card games around the room made their connection to the feline deity of chance all the clearer. 

As their group slowly made their way to the centre of the room, where a portly woman with golden skin, short platinum blond hair and covered by a blue mink cape stood alongside a much taller, dark-skinned woman with much narrower features—the familiar crowns on their heads hinting at their true position as Bonta’s rulers—, the sight of Master Joris by their side brought a relieved smile to Amalia’s features. 

To be honest, she was glad to see a familiar face. Especially after catching sight of what she could only assume was the Osamodas royal family. Besides their blue skin and moorg-like ears and horns, the reason she could easily pinpoint their loyalty to the beast god was the fact that she got the exact same feeling she experienced when she had been first introduced to their patron god. And it wasn’t a pleasant one.

Although she had to admit her eyes lingered for a moment longer on what appeared to be the eldest daughter, as her clothing was closer to something she herself would wear—although a lot tackier—compared to the feathered robes the members of her family donned. But even that did nothing to soothe her nerves as her cold, calculating red eyes seemed to scrutinise her. 

She sent a quick prayer to her father so they wouldn’t have to interact. 

Almost as if Sadida himself had heard his youngest daughter’s plea and sought to offer some comfort, Amalia’s whole face lit up in excitement when she finally took notice of the small entourage standing close to the Bonta rulers. The strong sense of kinship that enveloped her let her know she’d just found exactly what she’d been looking for: the Sadida royal family. 

It seemed to be composed of a father and son duo, the few remaining men by their side appeared to be on high alert, which implied they were actually some high ranking officials rather than royals. Through them, the Divine Doll could see some key aspects that immediately reminded her of her father. Beyond standing taller than most other races, their skin was also considerably darker—unless you counted Twelvians whose gods had blue skin, like Osamodas and Sram, of course—, not unlike tree bark. Their clothing, heavily inspired by the vegetation they surely surrounded themselves with, was also a clear indicator of where their faith laid. However, the biggest indicator was their head and hair. Even though they didn’t wear masks like Sadida, the men’s faces were entirely covered by their green manes, regardless of how they were styled, clearly acting as a nod to her father’s aversion to showing his true face. 

As they finally arrived right in front of Bonta’s queen—or was it queens?—, Amalia couldn’t wipe the grin off her face at having finally found her people. After weeks of being the only non-Eliatrope or non-dragon on Oma, it was extremely pleasant to find more people like her. 

Her gaze flickered back up to the women standing before them when one of them cleared her throat. It was the shortest one. 

“Greetings, King Yugo of the Eliatropes and honourable members of the Council of Six. We are immensely honoured by your presence.” Amalia almost flinched when her golden eyes landed on her. “And especially you, Lady Amalia. Your arrival truly is a blessing.”

Not sure what else to do, Amalia simply offered a polite bow of her head. “It is I who is blessed to be here, um…” She trailed off, mortified to realise she had no idea whom she was even addressing. 

Luckily for her, the woman simply let out a thunderous cackle. “Wherever are my manners? I have yet to introduce myself.” With a low chuckle, she stood a little bit taller, her head held up high as she spread her arms wide in a welcoming gesture. “I am Queen Astra of Bonta, and by my side is my wife, Queen Selene.” She gestured at the dark-skinned woman. 

The woman, Selene, offered a small nod and a smile of her own, “Pleasure to meet you.”

This time, it was Yugo’s turn to speak, “I believe I speak on behalf of not only my siblings, but the entirety of our people when I say we are truly honoured to be welcomed into your land, Your Majesties.” He made a show of looking around. “And to be given the opportunity to officially meet the World of Twelve’s royal families, too.”

“Trust me, King Yugo. No Twelvian in their right mind would ever want to miss such a momentous occasion. As far as I’m concerned, the only ones who aren’t here are the Brakmarians.” 

Even though her tone was meant to be affable and kind, there was something under the surface that caused the Eliatropes to tense up. They knew they wouldn’t suddenly be welcomed with open arms just because the other nations now knew about Amalia, so they knew better than to lower their guards in the face of a possible sneak attack. The fact that Brakmar chose not to attend the banquet was a bad sign. Maybe there were Twelvians foolish enough to disrespect one of Sadida’s dolls.

Sensing the rising tension, Queen Selene rushed out to clarify. “Please, don’t misunderstand. The only reason they’re not here is because of Bonta and Brakmar’s ongoing rivalry.” She let out an amused chuckle, though it was hard to tell how much of it was real and how much of it was rehearsed. “Truth be told, had the banquet taken place in Brakmar, Astra and I would have most likely sent Master Joris in our stead.”

Their eyebrows raising slightly at that revelation, both Yugo and Amalia flashed questioning glances Master Joris’ way, who limited himself to confirming his queen’s explanation with a silent nod. 

Queen Astra’s imposing voice drew their attention back to her. “But enough of all this pointless chatter, there will be time for that throughout the night. Right now, I’d highly recommend you enjoy yourselves and mingle with the other guests as we wait for dinner to be served. After all, that’s what we’re all gathered here today for.”

“Everyone here is especially interested in hearing more from you, Lady Amalia.” Queen Selene added, a wry smile on her lips. She motioned for them to go. “Let’s not keep them waiting for much longer.”

Thanking and bowing to them one last time, the Eliatrope entourage turned around to make their way to a less crowded area where they could begin strategising on how to best benefit from the night. As they went, everyone gathered went back to their own conversations, almost as if they hadn’t been carefully studying their every move as soon as they stepped into the room. 

Eventually, they stopped near a table overflowing with refreshments and appetisers that stood close to the windows leading to the balcony and a little ways off to the centre of the room, where distinguished gentlemen were beginning to take lovely ladies out for a dance after politely asking. As the music coming from the small orchestra began to play, filling the air with uplifting melodies, couples would move to the beat of the music, their coordinated steps creating a magical choreography that left Amalia breathless even as she remained rooted to the spot. 

The scene brought forth a strong sense of nostalgia with it. Memories of her father and sisters dancing under the moonlight flooding her senses. 

A small voice in the back of her head urged her to ask Yugo to take her dancing, but she quickly dismissed it as a lost cause. He hadn’t even complimented her on how she looked today, there was no way he would ever be willing to dance with her. 

At least she could always watch and dream, she sighed wistfully.

Her focus was momentarily broken from the dancefloor by the sight of a wineglass appearing right in front of her. Her eyes followed the arm holding the glass until she was staring back at Yugo. 

“It’s only fruit punch.” He assured her, twirling the contents of her glass experimentally. “I figured it’d be wiser since we do not know your alcohol tolerance and it wouldn’t be wise to find out at an event like this one.”

The doll had to suppress the urge to sulk and roll her eyes. Of course, he wasn’t looking out for her, but for his people. He couldn’t afford to have her embarrass him on such an important night. A nod was all the acknowledgement he got before she took the beverage from his hand and took a sip. Well, at least it was sweet enough to taste good. 

Yugo couldn’t help the small pit of worry that formed in his stomach at her reaction. Amalia had been acting strange all day. He had honestly expected her to be ecstatic at the idea of leaving the island to attend a party so far away, and yet, her face remained the perfect image of stoicism and indifference throughout. She only allowed for a smile to grace her lips when that little girl handed her the daisy she still wore at the base of her bun. 

Truth be told, such little detail went wonderfully with the rest of her outfit. The little flower combined with her traditional Eliatrope clothing made her stand out among him and his siblings—even if she always did just that on her own. 

She was a beautiful flower amongst Eliatrope’s children. 

But that still didn’t explain her behaviour. He was about to open up his mouth to ask her about it when—

“It is a great pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Lady Amalia.” A refined yet smarmy-sounding voice came from in front of them. Yugo didn’t know why, but it made his insides churn. “I must say, you are vastly more beautiful than rumours had me believe.”

Finally, sidestepping other astonished guests who kept murmuring amongst themselves, the origin of the voice revealed itself, causing Yugo to narrow his eyes as he stood a little closer to an unsuspecting Amalia, who could only look on, taken aback. The person who spoke seemed to be a man, and while that would have been the logical conclusion judging solely from his voice, the presence of his broad shoulders and narrow waist confirmed the king’s suspicions. 

The feeling of dread that overtook his whole being only intensified the longer he stared at the man. Truth was, whoever this person was, he was peculiar, to say the least. For starters, he was unnecessarily overdressed; with his cyan and light blue jumpsuit, white gloves, and brown snow boots. Draped over his shoulders was a white-furred cape that reached down to his lower back. Judging by his brooch and belt buckle and their obvious relation to time, he had to be a Xelor. And yet, none of that explained the fact that he was wearing winter clothing at a place as warm as Bonta during this time of year. And it certainly didn’t explain why his whole face was encased in ice, two bright, blue round eyes the only thing discernible behind it. 

And the way he addressed Amalia… His hold on his own glass tightened. One thing was for certain: he did not like this man one bit. 

But before the king could so much as send him packing, Amalia finally found her voice. “Oh, um, the pleasure is all mine, Mister…?”

The masked figure chuckled light-heartedly, bringing a hand to his chest. “Of course, how rude of me. Forgive me, my Lady. I am Count Harebourg, ruler of Frigost.”

Wait, count? Frigost? That didn’t sound like any of the territories where the World of Twelve’s leaders resided, let alone the Xelor royal family—whom, with a quick glance to the side, Yugo found standing all the other way from them and away from Harebourg. Then what was he doing here?

Thankfully, before his twin could do anything rash, it was Adamaï who spoke up. In all honesty, he had almost forgotten he was even there in the first place. “And what brings you all the way here, Your Grace?”

If the dragon’s question bothered him, it was impossible to tell with his mask. And yet, Yugo could hear the smirk in his voice as he answered clear as day, making his skin bristle. “Why, to meet the famed Eliatrope Council everyone has been talking so much about, of course.” 

Finally, he leaned forward slightly in a bow, a hand to his chest. But for some reason, the action, polite as it might’ve been, did nothing to endear the guy to Yugo. Things only got worse when he turned his focus back on Amalia, a protective instinct taking over the king as he felt her flinch under the count’s scrutiny. He had to keep himself from scowling. 

“Although I would be lying if I said your presence had no sway over my decision, my Lady. After all, it’s not everyday one gets to meet a Divine Doll such as yourself.” Just as Harebourg reached out his hand to grab Amalia’s, he was stopped in his tracks by the Eliatrope King’s voice, a warning laced with his tone. 

“I believe we would all feel more at ease if you showed your face, Your Grace. I’m afraid your mask is frightening Amalia.”

“Yugo!” The doll hissed, flustered. 

Harebourg himself only let out a low chuckle, his true feelings well-hidden behind his mask. And yet, Yugo could easily make out the tinge of irony in his words. “Says the king who refuses to take his hood off even inside someone else’s home.”

The only thing stopping the Eliatrope from walking right into the Xelor's personal space and pointing a wakfu sword right at his throat, a snarl on his lips, was Adamaï’s steady claw on his shoulders. That, and Amalia's frantic attempts at defusing the situation. 

“You…You really don’t have to take off your mask, Count Harebourg. Yugo… um, he didn’t mean to… It’s just…erm…” 

However, even as she sputtered on, she flashed the king a brief, warning glare that took him slightly aback and took his words away. She hadn’t looked at him like that since the portal fiasco where she ended up throwing up on a nearby bush. And now she was glaring at him over this guy? Really?

Just, what had got into her?

Unbeknownst to the two of them, the count’s skin prickled at the familiarity in the doll’s voice as she addressed the king. Luckily, he managed to mask his feelings well. Instead, he brought his hands behind his back and puffed his chest out. 

“On the contrary, Lady Amalia.” He told her, making her look up at him in surprise. And for a moment, Yugo and Adamaï could only blink in surprise as well, until the Xelor’s next words soured the Eliatrope’s mood further. “While His Majesty could have indeed phrased it better, he is not wrong in pointing out my appearance might be displeasing for you. Please, allow me to rectify that.”

“You really don’t have to do that, Your—.” She trailed off, the words dying in her throat. 

No sooner was Count Harebourg done talking than the ice encasing his head was melted by a series of copper valves all around his neck letting out steam. Under the block of ice, the count’s face was hidden by a metal mask with bright, blue glass eyes that, with a mechanical sound, opened up and stored itself away, revealing the count’s true face. 

While Amalia’s face grew hot and Adamaï’s jaw dropped, Yugo’s blood ran cold. The feeling only got worse when he heard Nora, of all people, let out an appreciative whistle before saying, “Oh, my…”

“Indeed.” Mina concurred, her tone appreciative. All around them, people whispered, with the women’s input being very much positive. 

Much to Yugo’s chagrin, even he had to understand the ladies’ reaction upon the count revealing his true face. The man before them was objectively handsome, with not even the fact that a rather nasty scar on his left eye covered only by a large blue lens taking away from his attractiveness. With his fair skin, squared jaw, icy blue eye and well-trimmed, snow-white hair, he looked every bit the aristocrat he was supposed to be. 

The Eliatrope’s heart throbbed painfully at the awestruck look on Amalia’s face as she stared back at Count Harebourg. The cold dread in his veins was only melted off when Frigost’s ruler was faster than him and took the doll’s hand in his and brought it to his lips. Whatever cold he felt before was quickly being replaced by the burning anger encompassing his entire being at the action. 

He hadn’t even noticed his clenched hands, tight to the point of turning his knuckles white, were crackling with wakfu until Adamaï made him look at him, his eyes shining with worry. Not finding the strength to answer the question in his brother’s gaze, Yugo simply shoved his claw off his shoulder and focused back on the exchange taking place right in front of him. 

“I certainly do hope my true appearance isn’t quite as displeasing as my mask, my Lady.” The count chuckled, his tone light. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if it was.”

She didn’t know why, but she actually giggled at his joke, her nose wrinkling adorably as she did so. And it felt like a knife to Yugo’s heart. “Rest assured, Your Grace. I’d be lying if I didn’t say your face isn’t nice to look at.” Just as the words left her mouth, her eyes widened, a furious flush overtaking her features as she registered what she’d just said aloud. 

Yugo couldn’t do much but flicker his eyes back and forth between the two of them, his mouth agape. Were they… were they actually flirting? And right in front of him?!

He started at that train of thought, all his other functions shutting down momentarily. What was it to him? Amalia was his friend and his guest and her presence was key in his people’s future, so it was only natural if he grew protective of her, but she was her own person. If she wanted to flirt with some mask-wearing, one-eyed, aristocratic weirdo, it was her choice! And he had to respect it. 

That still didn’t mean he didn’t have a right to feel his skin bristle at the hungry look Harebourg was regarding her with. Okay, so it was still her choice, but she was also far too innocent and inexperienced to be truly left to her own devices. He’d better keep an eye out. 

Which was another reason why he could hardly contain the smirk from tugging at his lips when Grougaloragran (finally!) intervened. 

“One of the queen’s little attendants has just told Grougaloragran dinner will be served shortly and we should start heading to the banquet hall to be directed at our respective seats.” It was then that the black dragon realised he had actually walked in on something. Tilting his head to the side, he furrowed his brow in confusion. “Uh… Is Grougaloragran interrupting anything?”

Before Amalia got a chance to say anything, Yugo beat her to it, his tone far too chipper for it to be genuine. “Nope! In fact, I’d say you’re just in time, Grougal. I’m starving!” He made a show of rubbing his belly to emphasise his point. Not wasting any time, he interlocked arms with the Divine Doll once more and began to all but drag her away in the direction everybody else seemed to be heading towards. 

He threw a dismissive wave over his shoulder and the count’s way. “Lovely talking to you, Count Harebourg. See you after dinner.”

That snapped Amalia,  who until then had been staring at Yugo as if he’d sprouted a second head, out of her disbelief-induced stupor. She quickly turned to look at the Xelor over her shoulder and sent him her own wave. “It was great meeting you, Your Grace. Hopefully we’ll get to talk some more tonight.”

“I’ll be counting down the minutes, my Lady! Hopefully you’ll even save me a dance.” He called out to her, before disappearing amidst the throngs of guests making their way towards the banquet hall. 

“Keep dreaming, loverboy.” The Eliatrope king couldn’t help but think spitefully to himself.

By his side, Amalia blinked in surprise at the count’s sudden departure, before her brow hardened into a scowl as she side-eyed her ‘friend’. Just, what was that about? First he told her about how important this night was to him and his people, only to then act like he was just itching to bite the count’s head off like some rabid Bow Wow?

And why? Just because Count Harebourg had been nothing but charming to her even if he was a little weird? Please, it wasn’t like he had any reason to get this mad just because some other guy was paying attention to—.

Her train of thought skidded to a halt, her eyes widening at the realisation. Eyes flickering back and forth between Yugo’s pouting face and the space Count Harebourg had been occupying before vanishing, she couldn’t prevent a little smirk from stretching over her lips. 

Maybe it was time for a little payback. 

........................................................................................................................

“Okay, what was that?” Chibi whispered to his siblings, voicing everyone’s thoughts. 

They were walking a little behind Yugo and Amalia, with enough space between them to be able to talk freely about what they just bore witness to, as long as they weren’t too loud. And by Eliatrope, there were no words to describe what they bore witness to. 

“Pretty sure it was our king about to go off on that count.” Qilby clicked his tongue and shook his head ruefully. He leaned closer to Nora. “I told you his vehement denial of his denial was a bad sign.”

The pink-eyed Eliatrope nodded. 

“Hopefully Yugo will be too busy interacting with the Twelvian rulers to encounter Count Harebourg again.” Phaeris noted, his arms crossed over his chest even as he had to tuck his wings closer to his body just to make sure he didn’t hit anyone as he walked. “We really can’t afford to have them come to blows.”

“Oh, but perhaps that is precisely what we need.” Mina mused aloud, drawing everyone’s startled gazes to her. 

“Are my ears playing tricks on me, or are you actually in favour of our brother nuking it out against the Xelor?” Nora asked, a teasing eyebrow quirked at her sister, who simply chuckled in response, remaining as poised as always. 

“I never said anything about Yugo and the count fighting, now, did I?” 

And with that, she walked ahead of them, her head held up high as she entered the banquet hall and was shown to her seat, leaving her flabbergasted siblings in her wake. 

All of them, but Adamaï, who had a good idea about what his wisest sister might have been talking about instead. And, as he spotted Yugo and Amalia and the stiff atmosphere around them, he had to admit she was probably right once more. 

He turned his head to look at Chibi when the latter clasped his hand on his shoulder and brought him closer. “Okay, Ad. Be real with me, because I feel like I’m missing something. Is it me, or is Yugo—?”

“He very much is, Chibi. Even if he doesn’t realise it himself.”

Chibi hummed in thought. “You know, it’s kinda funny. I’m used to seeing Yugo’s eyes glow blue whenever he taps into more wakfu than usual, but I never expected him to be visited by the green-eyed monster.”

Adamaï sighed. “I suppose that makes three of us, Chibi.”

...............................................................................................................

Dinner would have been a far more pleasant experience if it hadn’t been for Yugo’s noticeably darker mood. Not like he wasn’t good at hiding it. Whenever someone held a conversation with him, he was perfectly cordial and polite, to the point it would have been impossible to tell if something was wrong. But Amalia had been on the receiving end of his hollow kindness long enough to be able to see right through him. And a quick look around his siblings was enough to tell her they knew better too. 

Luckily, Amalia didn’t have much time to dwell on it, as every time her mind would start to wander, someone would address her. A part of the doll was touched at the Twelvians’ devotion and admiration of their gods, seeing as most of the time she would be asked about that person’s specific patron deity and what they were like. Her answer would always be the same, though; she hadn’t really got to talk much with them, but they were all very kind to her.

Once again, she thanked her father for the fact that none of the Osamodas royals were anywhere near her. She really didn’t know how to say ‘He was polite but very unpleasant and I could tell not even his horns were genuine’ to their faces without sounding rude. At the same time, she also felt extremely awkward when she saw the Sadida Crown Prince was seated alongside the Osamodas princess she saw earlier, which meant the reason behind her Sadida-like dress was that they were at the very least betrothed. 

Amalia hadn’t even stepped foot on the Sadida Kingdom and she already feared for her father’s people’s future if an Osamodas was to rule them. 

Regardless of her personal feelings on the horned god and his followers, at the end of the feast Queen Astra had declared they were now free to spend the rest of the night however they pleased. And for a bunch of Eliatropes with a mission, that meant fostering closer relationships with the other royals.

More importantly, in spite of the rocky state her and Yugo’s relationship was in, he had gone out of his way to ask her for help, and Amalia was not petty enough to deny him and his people of an opportunity they had long been waiting for. Regardless of how tired she felt. She honestly didn't know how these people did it. It had only been a few hours of interacting with others and she was already exhausted. 

As much as it saddened her to admit it, she was beginning to think she wouldn’t be able to dance after all out of sheer exhaustion.

She was about to follow after him and his siblings as the Eniripsa Queen asked for their presence when Master Joris appeared seemingly out of nowhere. His sudden appearance caused Yugo to halt and stare at him expectantly. 

“If I may, Your Majesty,” he started, his little, black eyes set on the Eliatrope King. “I believe it would be better if Lady Amalia sat this one out.”

Yugo blinked, surprised. “I beg your pardon?”

The ambassador raised his hands up placatingly. “I mean no offence, King Yugo. It’s just that there was a time where I was new to this kind of gathering, too.” He looked back at the Sadida Doll, offering her the kindest smile she had ever seen on the little man’s face. “I do not know how you’ve been spending your time on Oma, Your Grace, but I know from experience spending all night talking to dignitaries when you’re not used to it can be quite taxing.”

It was as if Master Joris’ words had forced Amalia to acknowledge for the first time the true depth of her exhaustion. Her feet ached against the cold floor, her cheeks were sore from smiling so much, and even though she had been instilled courtesy from birth, she was beginning to feel like her head would explode if she had to address anybody else as ‘Your Highness’ or ‘Your Honour’, or by any other title one more time. 

But she knew what her role was. Her presence was important to the Council, so she couldn’t just call it a night while they represented their people. She couldn’t do that to them.

Which was why she almost gasped in surprise when Yugo said, “If that is what Amalia needs, fine by me.”

“Are-are you sure, Yugo?” She asked, wrapping her arms around herself for comfort despite herself. 

No. Yugo wasn’t really sure. On the one hand, because the plan was to keep Amalia close in order to showcase to the Twelvians their own gods approved of their presence on their world and, more importantly, to keep her safe in case this was just a trap to take her away. And on the other hand, because a small part of him spiked up with anxiety at the thought of leaving her alone and for Count Harebourg to find her. He hadn’t been able to move past their brief interaction all evening, the mere memory of it was enough for his expression to cloud over with emotions he himself had trouble deciphering. 

But, as always, one look at Amalia was enough for his resolve to crumble like dust. She looked so tired, so vulnerable. She had been doing an astounding job all evening entertaining those who asked for a moment of her time and making sure to emphasise she had grown quite fond of Oma Island and its inhabitants. Moreover, unlike him and his siblings, who had been born to lead and navigate the world of politics and diplomacy, Amalia was a Divine Doll. Even if her true purpose remained undisclosed, Yugo highly doubted such a marvel of nature was meant to spend her time cooped up around a bunch of stubborn Dracoturkeys like monarchs were known for being. 

Maybe that was why she’d been so weird all day, because she was so out of her element. 

All the more reason to give her some time to relax. She’d more than earned it. 

So he told her as such with a nod and a smile. “I’m positive. Go and take a break, Amalia. We’ll take it from here.” Then, he turned to Bonta’s ambassador. “Master Joris, do you think you could look after her?”

But he just shook his head regretfully. “I’m afraid I must remain by your side, my King. You see, I’m actually on-duty tonight. But rest assured, I know just what to do.” He pointed at the far side of the room, where an older-looking white Ecaflip and another that was equally old but bald were lounging on a divan, playing cards. “Those are my sons, Kerubim and Atcham, my Lady. Go with them. They’ll make sure no harm comes to you.”

Amalia could only look on, flabbergasted, but ultimately chose not to say anything. She really couldn’t explain how someone like Master Joris, who seemed to be in his thirties or his forties at most and was of an indiscernible race could be the father of two old Ecaflips, but then again, she wasn’t one to talk. After all, her father was essentially a mask-wearing, humanoid tree, yet all his daughters were either dolls or utterly beautiful young women. 

There was, of course, the fact that he had literally sewn them up himself to be that way, but who was she to judge in the first place?

So with a polite nod as thanks to Master Joris and a grateful smile at Yugo, she turned back to the direction the Bontarian had pointed at and began to make her way between all the guests. Just as she avoided crashing into a laughing Iop, she bumped into somebody else. 

“Oh, my Gods, I’m so sorry.” She rushed out to apologise as she touched up her hair in case it got dishevelled due to the impact. 

“On the contrary, my Lady. It is I who should be apologising.” Responded a cool and collected feminine voice. 

Blinking rapidly to gather her thoughts, Amalia finally allowed herself to pay more attention to the person she collided against. She was a Cra in her twenties, with short platinum hair and vibrant emerald eyes. Just by looking at her the Divine Doll was immediately reminded of her father’s close friend—unlike her people’s matriarch, the woman before her had indeed inherited the Great Huntress’ beauty. 

She might have been staring for a little too long, because the Cra politely clearing her throat snapped her out of her daze. “If you will permit me, Your Grace, I’m afraid I’m needed elsewhere. So, if you don’t mind…”

“Oh! Right. Of course.” No sooner did the words leave Amalia’s mouth that the Cra left her side, disappearing amongst the throngs of people with a grace and ease that sent the Divine Doll reeling. 

Blinking slowly at the woman’s retreating form just before she vanished, Amalia eventually shrugged at her hurried departure. She was probably there as part of her people’s entourage and had to return to her leader’s side. With wayward thoughts about hopefully catching sight of her later in the evening, Amalia focused back on the mission at hand—joining Master Joris’ Ecaflip sons. 

The sound of boisterous laughter and muttered curses after a few more minutes of walking was all the indication she needed to know she had finally arrived. 

“I don’t know why I even bother to play with you. You always cheat!” Accused the hairless Ecaflip, a slight lisp in his voice. 

“Look who’s talking!” The white-haired Ecaflip shot back, offended. “Need I remind you you used to be a Brakmarian assassin? How’s that for playing dirty?”

“Would you just let it go?! That was like two lives ago!”

“It was our last life and you know it! I don’t know about you, but I’m not looking too forward to dying for real yet, so don’t go taking our nine lives away.”

“You are so dramatic.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Says the one who flies off the handle whenever Ush visits…” The other scoffed. 

“Don’t say that show-off’s name in my presence!” He hissed. Literally. His hackles rose and he bore his teeth at that. 

“Um, excuse me?”

“What!?” Both of them snapped, flashing furious glares at whoever dared to interrupt their bickering. To say they felt like slapping themselves at the sight of the famous Divine Doll their father had been talking about standing right in front of them, flinching at their outburst, would be an understatement. 

“I…Is it a bad time? Should I leave you two alone…?” Amalia trailed off, more than ready to get the Heck out of there when the Ecaflip brothers scrambled to stop her. 

“No!” The white-haired one exclaimed, before forcing himself to calm down. He tried again, his tone far kinder, almost like a vendor’s. “No, no, no, my dear. It’s quite alright. You’re not interrupting anything.”

“Just some old brotherly bickering.” The hairless one waved the whole thing off, his large ears tucked to his head betraying his uneasiness. “I’m Atcham, and the lucky fleabag over there is my brother Kerubim. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Kerubim Crépin,” the aforementioned Ecaflip corrected. “But yes, it’s always a pleasure to meet a creature as lovely as you, my Lady.”

That made her giggle, the smile returning to her lips. It was nice to meet someone friendly for a change. “The pleasure is all mine, my name’s Amalia.”

“We know, little lady. Our father has been telling us all about you ever since he met you.” Atcham said, patting the space on the divan beside him and beckoning her closer. Amalia took the seat offered with a smile, careful with her dress. 

“I see. It was him who told me to come with you. I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh, but of course! You have nothing to worry about!” Kerubim assured her, picking up the cards scattered over the table separating him and his brother; he began to shuffle them. “This actually reminds me of my adventuring days.”

“Wait, really? You’re an adventurer?” Amalia leaned forward in her seat, awestruck.

Before Kerubim could get a word in, Atcham corrected, “Was. The most adventurous thing he does now is doing his shop’s inventory and drinking his weight’s worth of bamboo milk.”

His hand coming to rest on top of his necklace—two dice hanging from a rope—, Kerubim grumbled, unamused at his brother’s antics. “Come on, cut me some slack. I’m not getting any younger, you know?”

“I’m only slightly younger than you and I still train every day.” Atcham retorted, not missing a beat. 

At that, Kerubim harrumphed in offence, his arms folding over his chest as he stuck up his nose in distaste. “And yet, I could still beat you any day of the week.” He spat petulantly. 

That got Atcham’s hackles to rise up again, his tail flicking furiously back and forth. Amalia actually had to duck to the side to avoid getting hit by it. “Only because of that ungodly luck of yours, you nepotism-enjoying fleabag!”

Sensing another argument coming, the Divine Doll chose best to intervene, and fast. But mediating between two arguing siblings was easier said and done. She needed to think of something to say that would distract them from each other. But what?

It was then that she caught sight of a waiter balancing a place with several red-tinted glasses. An idea materialising in her mind at the sight. 

“I-I had no idea there were potions that could transport you from one place to another!” She sputtered out, causing both Ecaflips to turn back to her with raised eyebrows at the sudden change of topic. “I can’t even imagine the kind of thing we might have had to do to arrive here if it weren’t for your father sending them to us.”

Exchanging one look, both brothers simply shrugged, reclining back in their divans. The doll fought to urge to sigh in relief. “What can we say? That’s what they’re for.” Kerubim mused. 

“Those potions certainly make travelling long distances easier.” Atcham agreed, before turning his focus back on Amalia. “But I’m sure you guys would have found a way to make it even without them. After all, you have your portals!”

Amalia chose not to comment on how she’d rather have her intestines pulled out rather than go through another Eliatrope portal. It was pretty much the same experience, after all. 

Instead, she said, “I was wondering, how can you get more? You know, out of curiosity.”

But Kerubim and Atcham only shook their heads at her question, their expression regretful. It was Kerubim who spoke. “I’m afraid that isn’t so simple, my dear. Those things are hard to make and even harder to come by, meaning they can be very expensive. Of course, I always try to offer the best possible price to my customers in my shop, but even I can’t really afford to just hand them over either.”

“Which is a pity,” Atcham went on. “Since going anywhere without them can take anywhere from a few days to months, especially if you don’t have mounts like the Cra soldiers or Osamodas do.”

“I see…” That gave Amalia something to think about. So even after all this time the Twelvians hadn’t been able to figure out a better and more accessible way to travel long distances. She was shaken out of her thoughts by the side of a deck of cards being offered to her. 

Looking up, she saw it was Kerubim who held it out for her, a smile on his lips. “Care to play with two old fleabags, my Lady? I must warn you, however; we won’t go easy on you just because you’re a Divine Doll.”

Amalia took the cards with a smile. “I’ve always been curious to find out if what they say about Ecaflips and their luck is true.”

“Oh, in that case you’d better throw in the towel now, my pretty. ‘Cause my brother over here is the luckiest cat on the planet, second only to our father.”

“Your father…?” She raised an eyebrow. Master Joris didn’t strike her as the kind to gamble. 

“Ecaflip.” Both of them answered in unison, and if Amalia had been drinking anything, she would have done a spit take. 

“Your father is Ecaflip?!” She screeched in disbelief. “But I thought it was Master Joris…”

“And he is,” Atcham nodded. “He’s our adoptive father and the one to raise us this current reincarnation.”

“But the Big Tease Himself sired us,” Kerubim finished for him. After a brief pause, he added, “And twenty more children.”

“But that means…” Amalia trailed off, trying to connect the dots even in her disbelieving state. “But that means you’re demigods like me!”

“Why did you think our dad sent you here with us?” Kerubim winked at her with a smirk on his lips. 

Amalia opened her mouth to speak… and promptly closed it again. That actually made sense. However, she had no time to dwell on the implications behind that before a million questions pushed through in her mind. 

“And what’s it like?” She blurted out. When her fellow demigods sent her matching questioning glances, she elaborated. “I mean, being an Ecaflip demigod. I… really haven’t met any before now.”

Their faces lighting up in understanding, the brothers exchanged another glance, this time to decide who should speak. With a gesture from Kerubim, it was Atcham who eventually explained:

“It’s not really that different from being a regular Ecaflip, really.” He shrugged before placing down one of his cards as the game went on. He jabbed a finger his hairy brother’s way, “As I said, this one was especially famous in his prime for being extremely lucky, being Ecaflip’s favourite and all… But other than that, we get a watered-down version of our father’s immortality in the form of nine lives or reincarnations, a place inside the Ecaflip dimension, and not much else, really.”

“Wait, your father plays favourites?” Amalia echoed, aghast. Out of everything the hairless cat had shared with her, her brain had locked in on that particular fact, the concept feeling foreign to her. 

“You bet.” Atcham nodded, while Kerubim tried to be a bit more diplomatic.

“It’s a very common thing among parents, even if they don’t mean to. Although in my case I believe it has to do with the fact that he actually got to ‘raise’ me and grow attached to me, at least, that’s what dad said. It all happened in a past life, you see. And we don’t get to remember those.” He explained, placing his own card down, causing Atcham to click his tongue in distaste as he saw he had the upper hand. “Anyway, I’m sure you’ve experienced something similar with your father, my Lady.”

“What? No, never!” Amalia protested, visibly offended. The mere idea was preposterous. “Father has always been nothing but kind and loving towards every single one of us; he would never play favourites.”

As the Divine Doll focused back on her cards—namely to try not to get too demolished playing against two Ecaflip demigods—, the siblings shared knowing glances. They debated whether to tell her or not, but ultimately chose not to.

What she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.

..................................................................................................................

It had been less than an hour since Amalia went looking for Master Joris’ sons, and they had already established conversation with at least five different rulers. It was still too soon to determine if they were truly welcoming of their people now or not, but at least bridges were beginning to be built. 

The Iops were a boisterous bunch, although Qilby didn’t appreciate how they seemed to have no interest in the overwhelming source of knowledge he provided, or how they insisted on focusing on the seemingly more physically imposing members of their group. Yugo and Adamaï actually had to stop Chibi and Grougal from entertaining their desire for a playful match, knowing their siblings would demolish them. Phaeris had been challenged to a fight too, but he had always been far wiser in choosing his battles. 

All in all, they seemed like perfectly amicable people, and the least likely to be scheming anything behind their backs. If only because they lacked the capacity to come up with long-term plots…

If possible, the Pandawas were even more affable. The only thing bigger than their queen’s size was her generosity. Not even five minutes into the conversation and she had already offered to share her people’s bamboo milk with them. It took a lot of convincing and a very diplomatic approach on Yugo and Adamaï’s part to kindly reject her offer; they really couldn’t afford to be intoxicated while trying to foster positive relationships with the World of Twelve’s natives. 

The Sufokians were… interesting, to say the least. While they remained unfailingly polite throughout the entire conversation, the empress and his son were particularly standoffish. Their every word seemed to convey a hidden meaning, and the Eliatropes couldn’t tell if they simply didn’t hold them in high regard or if, on the contrary, they didn’t value any other nation beyond their own. It was safe to say at first glance they were the least welcoming of them out of everyone they had talked to tonight.

After talking to the Sram and Enutrof royals—and swearing they weren’t after their kamas to the latter—, Joris redirected them back to Queens Astra and Selene; Bonta’s rulers were seemingly engrossed in their own conversation. When the members of the Council arrived to their side, it was Selene who picked up on their presence. 

“Ah, I see you’re making good use of your time by acquainting yourselves with the other world leaders. I trust everything is going smoothly?”

“We could not have asked for more, Your Majesty. We are truly grateful for this opportunity.” Yugo spoke for all of them, the Eliatropes and their dragon siblings bowing politely in unison to show their sincerity. 

“We only regret that the Brakmarians weren’t as willing to give us a chance.” Adamaï added, testing the waters. If he played his cards right, he could use both nations’ rivalry to get into Bonta’s good graces.  

His plan seemed to work, for a smirk drew itself on Astra’s lips. “It can’t be helped, Brakmar has always done their own thing. Such a backwards nation…” She shook her head regretfully, bringing a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. 

“If you don’t mind my asking, Your Majesty, what do you mean by that?” Nora asked, intrigued. 

“Brakmar’s way of doing things clashes immensely with Bonta’s, and not just because both nations were founded by opposing forces.” Selene explained, although she didn’t elaborate on that last nugget of information. “For instance, Brakmar doesn’t allow women to even attend a gobbowl match, let alone play on their team!”

“It is simply barbaric.” Astra agreed with a scoff. 

“Please, forgive my ignorance, my Queens, but what is gobbowl?” Yugo inquired, genuinely curious. Though he was mostly trying to distract the Bontarians from noticing Phaeris and Mina restraining a fuming Nora from going to Brakmar and giving their rulers a piece of her equal-opportunity-opinionated mind. 

“Oh, that’s true. You haven’t been here long enough to learn about it.” Astra said. 

The attending members of the Council of Six collectively chose not to point out that the Twelvians hadn't really allowed them to know more about their culture until less than a week ago. Instead, they focused their attention on Joris as he went on to explain. 

“Gobbowl is the World of Twelve’s most popular sport, played all over the planet, regardless of the nation.” He explained with the same stoicism so characteristic of him. “However, out of all the nations, no one can match Bonta and Brakmar’s love for it.”

“Although, in Brakmar’s case, it’s more fanaticism than love.” Selene pointed out with a sneer. “They hold it in such high regard they even allow their team’s best player to make decisive calls during trials. It wouldn’t be far-fetched to believe their authority surpasses that of the Prince of Brakmar himself!”

“There’s a match tomorrow, if you’re interested, you can experience it for yourselves. I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourselves immensely.” Astra offered, and that was the most genuine she’d sounded all evening. 

“Thank you kindly, Your Majesty. We’ll think about it.” Yugo replied. “But I believe we should focus first on our diplomatic mission.”

The queens nodded, with Astra motioning for them to follow her. “Of course. There’s actually someone I believe you should meet.” She told them right before leading them somewhere else in the ballroom. 

Yugo immediately understood everything as soon as the monarch stopped, gesturing at the people staring back at them expectantly. “King Yugo, esteemed members of the Eliatrope Council, allow me to introduce you to the Sadida King and Crown Prince; King Oakheart and Prince Armand Sheran Sharm.”

Yugo’s first thought upon finally coming face to face with the representatives of the nature god responsible for the curious little doll living with them had to be that, if Amalia was indiscernible from a regular Sadida woman, then the men got the short end of the stick in the beauty department. 

No, that wasn’t right. It wasn’t like male Sadida were ugly per se, it was that it was impossible to tell what they were. Period. The way their hair completely covered their faces did not help matters. Even so, the fact that he couldn’t see their faces didn’t mean he couldn’t sense their aura. 

Even without his wakfu vision, the Eliatrope could feel the sheer power and resilience radiating off their royal family. Just the sight of them was enough for him to fully believe their patron god had played a key role in creating the world they all now lived in. 

Out of the father and son duo, Prince Armand was the most conventionally attractive, even if he wasn’t exempt from his dreadlocked bangs hiding his face from view. What little the Eliatrope King could see of his face, he seemed to possess a squared, chiselled jaw that went alongside his cultivated physique. The fact that he essentially paraded said physique for all to see also helped bring attention to his sculpted body. 

Judging by the way all Sadida present dressed, that is to say, scarcely so, it was clear to see Amalia’s fondness for showing some skin—and going barefoot—was a cultural thing. It was even more shocking to realise Amalia’s fashion choices were actually quite modest in comparison. In fact, Yugo didn’t know what to do with himself at that revelation. His poor heart certainly wouldn’t be able to take it.

If Prince Armand was tall, around Yugo’s own height, that was nothing compared to his father. King Oakheart seemed to be even slightly taller than Adamaï, horns included. He wasn’t as conventionally attractive as his son, with his girth being considerably greater to go along with his height, and his (facial?) hair was far more dishevelled than his son’s well-trimmed do, but his eyes still radiated the kind of wisdom and strength only a true leader could possess. 

Yugo was sure he’d been alive far longer than any other person in this ballroom, and he still could only hope to one day transmit the same energy as the Sadida King did with just his gaze. 

However, regardless of the respect they were due because of their position, more importantly, they were Amalia’s people. If there was someone whose good graces they needed to be in, that was them. 

Which was why Yugo actually went down on one knee as he greeted them, his siblings following suit shortly after. “It is an immense honour to make your acquaintance, oh, powerful Sadida.”

“It is good to finally meet under better circumstances.” Armand commented, and Yugo could feel a chill running down his spine at the tone he used. Surely he couldn’t be talking about…

“It’s all fallen leaves, now, Armand.” The king lightly chided his son, his eyes glinting in warning. His expression turned kinder as he settled his eyes back on the Eliatropes. “Please, forgive my son, King Yugo. As you know, a king can never be too cautious, although his distrusting nature can have its own undesirable consequences.”

Privately, Yugo couldn’t help but think Prince Armand and Efrim actually had a lot in common.

“There is nothing to forgive, for you speak the truth.” Yugo said as he rose from his bowed down position, choosing to remain cordial. “But I must agree with the prince, it is great to finally be able to interact under much better circumstances.”

King Oakheart tossed his head back and let out a thunderous laugh. “Indeed, indeed. And what better circumstances than getting to meet Sadida’s eleventh doll? Her birth alone is a momentous occasion for our people.”

“I can only imagine, my King.” Yugo nodded. 

Armand made a show of looking around. “And where is this famed eleventh Divine Doll? I expected her to be a part of your entourage.”

“Armand…” His father warned him, far too familiar with his son’s abrasive and distrusting nature. 

But Yugo just let it all wash over him, his smile unfaltering. “Seeing as she is not used to such gatherings, Amalia seemed exhausted. So, as per Master Joris’ suggestion, I told her to rest a little alongside his sons.”

When father and son looked down at the ambassador for confirmation, their worries were put to rest by the nod of his head. 

“How gracious of you, King Yugo.” Armand said kindly, but it wasn’t enough to hide the slight sarcasm that dripped from his words. “It’s such a relief to see you take such good care of your bride.”

Just like it did every time any other leader mentioned the same thing, hearing the word ‘bride’ was enough for Yugo to flinch uncomfortably, an action he tried to cover up by clearing his throat. It also caused his siblings to discreetly roll their eyes at how obvious he was being. “While I thank you for your kind words, Prince Armand, it’s hardly anything to write home about. After all, being mindful of how someone’s feeling is just basic decency.”

“Indeed.” The Sadida prince concurred. 

“However, there is a correction I wish to make.”

That got their attention. After exchanging a look with his son, King Oakheart urged him to continue. “Do tell.”

Much like he’d done every time this same conversation took place, Yugo took a deep breath through his nose and prayed his mother would have mercy on him. While admitting to this was meant precisely to avoid future conflicts with the Twelvians, admitting it at all could also lead to trouble. For now, they could only hope for the best. 

“The thing is…” He started, hoping beyond hope the Sadidas wouldn’t take this as a declaration of war or something of the sort. “While Amalia was certainly sent to us for the purpose of becoming my bride, I must admit that is not the case. There is nothing between us beyond a close friendship.”

“Is that so?” The king raised an eyebrow, but because he could get another word in, the Eliatrope rushed in to clarify. 

“Do not misunderstand, please. My people and I are extremely grateful to have been blessed with such an honour as it is to have been sent a Divine Doll, it is simply that I—our people aren’t in need of a queen, and I would hate for Amalia to feel trapped fulfilling a role that cannot guarantee her happiness.

“Rest assured, however, we are doing everything in our power to ensure she feels welcomed and at home at all times.” He did not need to turn around to sense his siblings sending Nora meaningful glances, their younger sister dutifully keeping her mouth shut for once. Mina in particular had a hand over her shoulder in warning.

The Sadida royals could only blink in surprise at that, not sure what else to say. Finally, after an awkward pause, the king cleared his throat as he straightened himself up, Prince Armand mimicking his actions. 

“That is… quite alright, King Yugo.” Oakheart said, not sure where to even begin. “As my son will be able to tell you, we know how challenging it can be to make someone that’s not from the same culture as you feel welcome alongside your own.”

For once, Armand seemed to agree. “Indeed. My wife, Aurora, is an Osamodas princess. It certainly took a while for us to find more common ground once we got married. It certainly helped when she developed a fondness for our haute couture.” He revealed with unmistakable fondness in his voice. 

Yugo almost shuddered upon realising the emotionless Osamodas woman with the bangs covering half her face was the prince’s consort. Was it too bad to hope she wasn’t around whenever he had to interact with her in-laws?

“Nevertheless,” King Oakheart’s hearty voice broke him out of his musings. “We certainly hope you eventually get to introduce Lady Amalia to us. Her existence truly is a blessing for our people.”

Sharing knowing looks with Adamaï, Yugo allowed a genuine smile to grace his features. 

“Of course. I’m sure she’ll love that.”

....................................................................................................................

Amalia was having a blast with Kerubim and Atcham. Granted, she hadn't won a single game, but getting to witness the two siblings bickering over the pettiest things was unendingly entertaining. She might have lost every single round, but she’d been laughing heartily almost the entire time she spent with them. 

“I’m telling you, she kissed me as thanks for helping her!” Kerubim insisted for the fortieth time since the conversation began. 

Atcham simply rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that.”

The white-haired Ecaflip pouted. “Why don’t you ever believe me about this sort of thing?”

“Because there’s no reason why a young, beautiful lady like the one you’re describing would ever kiss an old fleabag like yourself, gratitude be darned!” He slammed his cards hard against the table, tired of always hearing the same old song and dance. “If you told me this all happened back when you were still young, maybe I would believe you, but at your age?” He let out a loud, sarcastic cackle before turning his focus back on his cards. “Keep dreaming.”

“It’s still more believable than you losing to Ush because he keeps attacking you whenever you’re distracted…” Kerubim grumbled to himself. When he realised what he’d just said, though, it was already too late. 

“How many times do I have to tell you not to utter that black cat’s name in my presence?!” The hairless Ecaflip bellowed. Even from where Amalia was sitting, it looked as if the vein in his forehead was about to pop. 

As Atcham threw himself at his brother and the two of them began to roughhouse, Amalia, who had long given up on playing against them, simply leaned back on the divan, an eyebrow raised. Already used to the old Ecaflips’ childish shenanigans, she remained unflappable as they fought. But she was curious as to what they even argued about.

“Who’s Ush?” She asked, causing the brothers to halt mid-fight. 

Knowing better than to be rude to a lady, the two of them broke away from each other’s hold and dusted themselves off. With a clearing of his throat, it was Kerubim who explained. “Ush Galesh is another one of Ecaflip’s demigod sons, my dear.”

“Oh, so he’s your brother?”

Atcham scoffed at the mere thought. “In name only. Not only is he from another litter, but he’s got the emotional maturity of a teenager. And the arrogance to match.”

While the doll blinked, not sure what to make of it all, Kerubim elaborated on, “Remember what we told you about our father playing favourites, my dear?” Amalia nodded. “Well, Ush never really took not being his favourite well. Even if he claims to hate our father, it’s plain to see he’s just resentful and envious because he doesn’t hold that place in his heart.

“Now, if there’s one thing Atcham is right about is the fact that Ush never really matured. He takes his anger out on anyone who crosses him and, rather than rely on his natural luck and skill as an Ecaflip, he always makes sure to have the upper-hand whenever he faces an opponent.”

“The upper-hand…?” Amalia tilted her head in confusion. 

“He cheats. At everything.” Atcham told her bluntly. Then, he sent his brother a pointed look, as if daring him to contradict him, “Including our fights.”

Kerubim chose to keep his mouth shut for once.

“I see...” Amalia eventually spoke up, rubbing her arm uneasily. “Then it’s no wonder you don’t like hearing about him.” 

Kerubim just shrugged. “It is what it is, my dear. Not all siblings will get along just because they’re blood related. Sometimes families are torn apart by internal factors and everyone is much happier on their own.”

That gave Amalia pause, her expression dimming. Truth be told, she hadn’t quite got over what they said about parents playing favourites, or how that applied even to her father. Would that happen to her family? Was it possible that Sadida played favourites or treated some of his daughters better than the rest and that might cause them to drift apart?

She was his youngest daughter and his masterpiece, according to the Leafy God Himself. Did that make her one of his favourites or…?

Sensing they put the very Divine Doll they were supposed to be looking after on edge, Kerubim and Atcham exchanged panicked glances. What would people think if they found out they made a Sadida Doll cry? They would be branded as worse than some of the most despicable criminals to roam the face of the planet!

People would stop coming to the shop!

As they were running out of ideas on how to cheer Amalia up, Kerubim blurted out, “Would you like something to drink, my Lady?”

That seemed to do the trick, for Amalia’s head snapped up at them and she regarded them curiously. “What?”

“Would you like something to drink?” He repeated, making good use of his vendor’s voice. “It’s been a long night. I’m sure you could use something to quench your thirst.”

Now that he mentioned it, Amalia was feeling quite parched. Something to drink should do her some good. “I actually rather enjoyed some very nice fruit punch from the food table right before we were summoned to dinner. Do you think you could get me a glass of that?” She asked them politely with a smile. 

“One glass of fruit punch coming right up!” Both siblings immediately sprang into action, giving her military salutes before turning around and heading over to the refreshments table. 

As Amalia watched them go, amused, she almost jumped right out of her skin when a suave voice whispered in her ear, “I thought they’d never leave.”

Whirling around in surprise, her eyes widened in shock at the person standing before her. 

“Count Harebourg.” She gasped. 

“Lady Amalia.” He greeted back, a grin on his face. “I was wondering if you would be interested in granting me that dance?”

Amalia actually hesitated. While it was true she longed to go to the dancefloor and that she had been pleasantly surprised by how the count truly looked, she couldn’t quite get over the feeling she got around him. More specifically, the feeling that emanated from Yugo. 

Even though she came to understand the king’s uncharacteristically hostile behaviour came from the fact that the Xelor was paying attention to her, she still didn’t understand what caused it exactly. After all, her main purpose for tonight was to have people paying attention to her, and he hadn’t been anywhere near as angry when others interacted with her throughout the evening. So why did he act like that around Count Harebourg?

There was also the fact that the count himself emanated a dangerous kind of energy. She didn’t know why, but despite Harebourg’s sweet words and kind compliments, the doll couldn’t bring herself to be truly comfortable around him. 

She was about to turn him down when her eyes instinctively searched for Yugo, worried about his reaction. What she saw instead made her grit her teeth in distaste. 

Standing all the way from over the other side of the room, yet drawing her eye like a beacon of light inside a dark space, was the Eliatrope King. And he wasn’t alone. Beside him was the Eniripsa Queen, quite the buxom beauty who kept inspecting the muscles and tattoos on his exposed arms with keen interest. And all Yugo could do in response was flush furiously and sheepishly while making no attempt at wriggling himself free from her grasp. 

Amalia’s irritation flared at the scene. So there she was, worrying about his feelings over seeing her with the count while he let whoever roam their hands all over his body. But again, what else was new? Just like she’d been trying to reach out to him and grow closer, he had been doing everything in his power to avoid her. He only started treating him decently now because he needed her. 

Fine, if that was how it was going to be, she would help him get in Frigost’s good graces. 

Putting on her most charming smile, she took Count Harebourg’s offered hand. “It will be my pleasure to dance with you, Your Grace.”

“Trust me, the pleasure is all mine.” The count smiled back, a predatory glint in his eye that went unnoticed by Amalia.

.....................................................................................................................

Adamaï could only blink on, unamused, as his brother let himself be inspected by the Eniripsa Queen, choosing that moment to excuse himself to get some drinks. He understood they were on a mission to foster better relationships between their people and the Twelvians, but surely, there had to be a line somewhere. Just with a quick glance at the fairy’s aura it was easy to tell she had no real interest in his brother beyond a medical one, but given how shy and easily-flustered around women Yugo could get, Adamaï was half-expecting him to self-combust anytime soon. 

Having said that, this was nothing compared to the way their king’s brain would draw a blank whenever it came to the pretty flower they harboured. 

That evening, the dragon had to resist the urge to roll his eyes to the back of his skull in exasperation when his twin caught sight of the Divine Doll looking all dolled-up—pun not-intended. He was starting to become intimately familiar with the way Yugo’s breath hitched at the sight of her, the small, almost imperceptible gasp that would leave his mouth each time Amalia donned a different outfit than the one they were used to seeing her with. 

As expected, the moment Yugo went through his portal and landed by her side, he had the exact same reaction. His eyes widened as they travelled up and down every little detail of her body, from her shawl to her skirt, drinking her in. His fingers clearly twitched at the idea of reaching out with his hand and caressing her loose, forest-green hair. And his cheeks were dusted in pink the longer he stared at her.

How Amalia hadn’t noticed all that was beyond him. 

He was so head over heels for his precious flower it was almost laughable. Except for two key factors: on the one hand, Yugo refused to admit, even to himself, that he felt anything for Amalia rather than a close friendship; and, on the other hand, in his denial and for reasons Adamaï himself didn’t fully understand for once, he insisted on keeping her as far away as possible. 

And whether his twin realised it or not, that alone was pushing Amalia away. 

If he didn’t put a stop to whatever hesitation he was feeling at the moment, and soon, he would lose her forever, regardless of what she could have done for their people. 

Just as he returned, two glasses in hand, the Eniripsa Queen seemed to have grown bored with her inspection of the king’s physique and moved on to Nora. Given the queen’s analytical mind, it was plain to see she was far more interested in seeing the anatomical differences between male and female Eliatropes, but seeing as his younger sister was never one to turn down an offer to have a gorgeous woman near, Nora looked as pleased as punch. 

The same could not be said for Yugo, who was hunched forward with his hands resting on his knees, taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart. Adamaï almost snorted at the sight. It didn’t matter if his twin was twenty or several hundred years old; he did not know how to deal with women. 

Not for the first time, Adamaï thanked their mother Amalia seemed completely unaware of the power she held over him. Otherwise, they’d be doomed. 

As he tried to regain his breath, having forgotten how to breathe when the Eniripsa Queen began to fondle his biceps, Yugo saw the glass offered to him from the corner of his eye. Looking up, he saw Adamaï looking down at him with an eyebrow raised in amusement. 

“Thirsty?” The dragon asked, shaking the glass in front of him to get his attention. 

Rolling his eyes at the ill-concealed double entendre, Yugo took the drink and took a greedy gulp. “Thank you.”

Adamaï shrugged. “Don’t mention it.” He flashed his brother a crooked smile that sent a shiver down his spine. “It must be nice being so popular.”

Yugo pouted. “Shut up. You know it’s not like that.”

“Of course, I know. But just because I know it doesn’t mean others won’t take your insistence on Amalia not being your bride as an open invitation to send wedding proposals to you.”

Yugo almost choked on his drink. “What? No! Of course not!” He insisted, offended. “Can you imagine the uproar that would cause? I can already hear the gossip: ‘The Eliatrope King turns down a Sadida Doll to marry one of our royals instead. How scandalous!’,” he mocked in an overly nasally voice. Then, he scoffed. “Please, as if I would jeopardise our kingdom’s well-being by offending the Twelvians because I disrespected a Divine Doll sent specifically for me…”

Adamaï raised an eyebrow at that, knowing that wasn’t exactly the reason why he wouldn’t choose anyone over Amalia. But he chose not to comment on it. Yugo wasn’t willing to be honest with his feelings, not even to himself, and trying to force someone as stubborn as him to see reason was like pulling teeth.

A real pain. 

“And what about fostering better relationships by letting Amalia marry somebody else?”

Again, Yugo almost did a spit take at his twin's words. Whirling himself to face the dragon so fast it was a miracle he didn’t give himself whiplash, he asked, his voice strangled. “What?”

Shaking his head, Adamaï sighed. “Nothing, forget I said anything.”

Narrowing his eyes on his brother, suspicious, Yugo eventually chose to let it go… Only for him to start yet again when Adamaï said, “I’m just saying, if you insist on explaining to everyone that Amalia isn’t your bride, yet you stand around her like a guard dog whenever someone else seems taken by her, you might end up sending mixed messages.”

“‘Mixed messages’?” He repeated, incredulous. “What are you talking about, Ad?”

But Ad limited himself to sending him a pointed look. And yet, that was enough for Yugo to understand what he meant immediately.

Oh. That.

That didn’t mean he was willing to admit to anything. Sulking, he faced forwards, refusing to meet the dragon in the eye, and took another sip of his drink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

If it weren’t so frustrating, Adamaï would have actually laughed. “So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? You’re going to pretend your powers weren’t about to go haywire at the sight of Count Harebourg flirting with Amalia?”

“Hate to break it to you, Big Brother,” Nora’s sarcastic voice said practically out of nowhere. Apparently, the Eniripsa Queen had got what she’d been looking for already, leaving her free. “But green looks much better on Amalia than on you.” 

Yugo frowned, knowing he was going to regret even asking, “What does that even mean?”

“Jealousy.” Qilby oh-so-helpfully supplied, appearing out of nowhere alongside the rest of his siblings. “You were seething with jealousy because your precious flower was no longer paying attention solely to yourself.”

“It’s normal to feel threatened when you stop being the hottest guy in the room. I would know.” Chibi teased, bringing a hand to his chest in mock solidarity. 

Their king actually flushed at that. “That has nothing to do with anything!”

“Then what is the problem?” Mina challenged, an eyebrow raised. The calm in her voice underlaid the fact that her question was merely a formality, for she already knew the answer. She’d known long before Yugo, who still refused to open his eyes to the obvious. “If you’re not bothered by Count Harebourg’s interest in Amalia, then why did you react so strongly to it?”

Pursing his lips in thought, Yugo stubbornly chose to avert his gaze, letting out a sigh through his nose as he took another sip of his drink. “It’s not what you think.”

Because it simply couldn’t be what they all thought. He wasn’t jealous of Count Harebourg! Jealousy implied he feared he would lose Amalia to that half-blind Xelor. But that was ridiculous! The only way he could ever fear losing Amalia to another would be if he had feelings for her, and that wasn’t it. 

As fond as he was of Amalia, it was purely platonic. He was only protective of her because, despite her appearance, she was so young and naïve to the world around her. Her child-like wonder and innocence left her vulnerable to being manipulated for someone’s own selfish gain. 

He could’ve laughed at the thought. In a way, their situations were the opposite of each other: whereas Amalia was built to be a woman yet retained a delightfully young personality, Yugo had spent decades trapped in a child’s body despite his adult mind. And yet, the two suffered the same predicament—regardless of what they did to prove themselves, nobody ever took them seriously. 

As a result, Yugo would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a strong kinship with the Divine Doll. Their similar interests and circumstances—including but not limited to their origins, which were extraordinary even by divine standards—made it all incredibly easy to grow close to her. But there were lines he shouldn’t cross. For both their sakes. 

Falling in love with her was one of such lines he would not dare cross. 

He was rudely reminded of that fact that day on the beach, and he hadn’t allowed himself to forget about it ever since. 

Explaining what love was to Amalia and remembering why she had been sent to him in the first place was a sobering reminder of why he couldn’t afford to let his guard down and fall for her. Doing so didn’t just mean potentially falling for whatever trap the gods had set for his people, but it also meant robbing Amalia of her chance to experience love for herself. 

If she truly became his bride, then she would be chained to him for as long as he lived. And the fact that she had been made precisely for that meant she would never be able to aspire for more. Whatever love she believed she felt for him would be a lie, and she didn’t deserve to think whatever one-sided thing there would be between them was love. 

She might be a Divine Doll, but she wasn’t an object. 

Which, apparently, nobody else seemed to be aware of. Wherever he looked, he saw people determined to worm their way into her life and gain her trust so they could eventually use her to further their goals. Inside these walls, Amalia wasn’t her own person, she wasn’t even a Divine Doll worthy of respect and admiration; she was the perfect political tool. 

And everyone was frothing at the mouth at the mere thought of getting their hands on her. 

And Yugo just knew Count Harebourg was the worst out of them. His intentions towards Amalia were downright sinister, no charming façade or well-constructed mask would be able to hide that. 

Unbeknownst to him, his hold on his glass became a little bit tighter. 

Just as Yugo got lost in his own thoughts, his siblings shared worried glances. More importantly, they were frustrated. Not just because Yugo was making things unnecessarily difficult for himself—they’d known him long enough to know that was just a staple of him—, but because they couldn’t do much to help. As close as they all were, Yugo had always liked dealing with his issues alone, sometimes not even Adamaï had access to his innermost worries and desires. The most they could do was to try and talk to him and hope something they said stuck with him long enough for him to see the error of his ways. 

It was clear his feelings for Amalia would be no different. 

Waiting for their king to snap out of his trance on his own, Grougaloragran let his gaze sweep around the room, bored with the lack of action. For a moment, his eyes landed on the dancefloor and the couples moving to the beat of the music but, growing disinterested even as he saw Amalia in Count Harebourg’s arms, swaying to the music, he focused on somewhere else. 

…until what he’d just borne witness to registered in his mind and he was forced to do a double take. 

Oh, Yugo was not going to like this. 

“Uh, Yugo?” He called out to his king over his shoulder. “Grougaloragran believes you should take a look at this.”

Letting out a sigh, Yugo began, “What is it, Grougal—?”

Only to be immediately cut off by what he saw. 

As his eyes followed Amalia and Harebourg as they danced, his blood reached the boiling temperature. A loud crack! echoed throughout the room as whatever remained of his drink splashed against the floor, the shattered pieces of glass falling from his hand.

...................................................................................................................

“I must admit I didn’t expect you to be such a talented dancer, my Lady.” Count Harebourg mused aloud. “Have you ever danced before?”

“You seem to be forgetting my father is known precisely for dancing on the ridges once spring arrives, Your Grace. It is only natural that his own daughters would follow in his footsteps.” Amalia smirked.

The Xelor chuckled. “How shameful of me. I hope you can forgive me, Lady Amalia.” He told her jokingly. 

Amalia pretended to think about it. “Well, I suppose I can be merciful just this once.” She giggled. 

“You have my thanks.” Count Harebourg smirked back at her. 

Amalia had to admit, this wasn’t so bad. Sure, a part of her would’ve still preferred to dance with Yugo, but the count acted like the perfect gentleman the whole time. She was finally having some fun of her own, and Count Harebourg always made sure to make her feel comfortable and beautiful, constantly showering her with compliments and words of praise. She didn’t understand how she’d come to doubt him before. 

She wouldn’t mind spending the rest of the night with someone who actually seemed to care about her. 

“Do you know that we actually have something in common, my Lady?”

Amalia hummed absentmindedly, asking him to elaborate on that. 

“I’m actually a demigod myself.” The count explained, and Amalia almost had to do a double take at that. 

Her brown eyes wide, she asked, “You are?”

It was the count’s turn to hum. “That’s right. Xelor is my father.” He chuckled, but it sounded hollow. “I suppose that much was to be expected, given my race.”

“Oh.” For a while that was all Amalia could say, her brain scrambling to catch up with the conversation. Finally, she weakly offered. “Um, I remember meeting him in Inglorium. Right before I was sent here…”

“Oh? And, do tell, what was he like?”

A strained smile stretched over the doll’s lips. What was she supposed to say?! She had barely talked to the guy for, what, five minutes? That was hardly enough time to form an educated opinion on someone’s true character. Especially when all you could focus on as you talked to them was the fact that their eyes and mouth were on their torso and how disturbing that whole imagery was. 

“He has his mouth and eyes on his torso. That’s creepy.” Her eyes widened in alarm when she realised she actually said that aloud. 

She felt a little bit better when she heard him laugh, loud and unrestrained. He had a nice laugh. The feeling didn’t last long, being replaced shortly after by anxiousness taking hold of her heart at what he said next. 

“That’s actually the nicest thing that comes to mind whenever I think about him.” Count Harebourg admitted, taking his hand off her waist to wipe a tear off his eye. 

“Really?” Amalia found herself asking. Her heartbeat skyrocketed when the white-haired man’s face morphed into a much more sombre expression. 

He remained quiet for a second, pensive, and then, with the same tone of voice one would use to share a secret, he told her:

“Lady Amalia, the truth is I hate my father.”

.....................................................................................................................

To say Yugo was livid would be an understatement. His left eye hadn’t stopped twitching since he caught sight of Count Harebourg with his hands all over Amalia. He had half the mind not to open a portal right beside him and shoot a wakfu beam at the space between them as his first, and only, warning. 

The half of his mind who held him back from inflicting bodily harm on that pompous, one-eyed Xelor was called Adamaï, and he was very busy trying to keep up with his Eliatrope twin while the latter was on the verge of suffering a conniption. 

“Look at him, flirting so shamelessly with someone else's bride. Can you believe it!?” Yugo all but screeched, gesturing wildly at the two as they danced.

It took every ounce of the dragon’s strength not to roll his eyes in exasperation. “Um, didn't you just spend about half an hour going around and explaining that, while we're truly honoured to take Amalia in, she is not your bride?”

“Yes, but I didn't explain it to him!” Yugo shot back, irate. 

“Of course you didn’t.” Adamaï couldn’t help but to think to himself. Aloud, he said, “If it bothers you so much, why don’t you just go talk to them?”

“I can’t just do that!”

“Right, because doing so would be essentially admitting that you’re jealous.”

“I’m not—!” Yugo began, raising his voice. At least, until he noticed the curious eyes staring back at him for his outburst, which caused him to force himself to lower his voice, almost to a whisper. “I’m not jealous.”

This time, Adamaï did roll his eyes in annoyance, but his twin ignored him.

Yugo was having a really hard time standing still. On the one hand, he wanted nothing more than to march over there, grab Count Harebourg by the shoulder, maybe punch him in the face for good measure, and bring Amalia back to them. But, on the other hand, doing so could result in a number of consequences he’d do best to avoid. 

Firstly, much to his chagrin, Count Harebourg was an important figure in the World of Twelve, being the ruler of Frigost and all. Secondly, he really didn’t want to cultivate the image of a violent, ill-tempered king who went around punching people he didn’t like. There was no point in trying to be diplomatic this whole time if he then acted anything but. And finally, there was Amalia herself. 

Even if every fibre of his being was telling him to go get her, he still had no right to interfere. Regardless of her nature, she was not an object and she wasn’t a child, she could make her own decisions. He couldn’t just intervene in her business, especially when they were nothing to each other, at least not romantically. 

As he brought a hand to his chest in an attempt to alleviate the painful pang that resounded in his ribcage at that particular train of thought, he almost didn’t hear Adamaï when he said, “Seriously, if it bothers you so much, you could always talk things out with Count Harebourg. After all, technically speaking, you’re higher up in the pecking order.”

Under no circumstances, shape or form did the two of them let out high-pitched screams at the sudden sound of Master Joris’ voice coming from behind them. 

“If I were you, I’d be careful around Count Harebourg, Your Majesty.” Master Joris’ warning rang ominously, his black eyes narrowed into slits. Once he’d recovered from the fright, his words registering in his mind, Yugo couldn't help but scoff. 

“You can just call me Yugo, Master Joris. After all, you already trespassed our territory uninvited. What's the point in formality?” 

Unbeknownst to him, Joris squinted his eyes at him, intrigued by the new edge in the king’s voice. One that, interestingly enough, hadn't been there when he indeed presented himself at his palace, uninvited. Though glancing back at the dancing couple, he had a pretty good guess as to why that was. 

“Anyway, why do you say that? Do you know the count?”

Joris nodded. Honestly, he wished he didn't. “Count Harebourg is an old enemy of mine.”

Yugo and Adamaï’s eyes widened at such revelation, taken aback. “Aren't you an esteemed member of Bonta’s court?” Another nod. “Then why would the queen invite one of your enemies to a banquet you will be attending?”

“Because, regardless of his actions, Count Harebourg is still the ruler of Frigost.” His eyes flickered back to Yugo, the way his jaw clenched a clear indication of how serious he was. “The count’s greatest priority is his people, first and foremost. Anything else is superfluous.”

“Isn't that a quality a good leader should have?” Adamaï asked, not following.

“Indeed, all good leaders should worry about their subjects’ well-being.” Joris agreed, but it was short-lived. “However, never to the extent of being willing to sacrifice another nation for their sake. Trust me, Your Majesty, Master Adamaï, Count Harebourg is not above using others to achieve his goals. And I fear someone like Lady Amalia is ripe with opportunity.”

“You think he has ulterior motives for trying to get close to Amalia?”

“All I’m saying is it would be unwise to underestimate him.” Joris insisted, but his answer was already all Yugo needed to know where Harebourg stood. 

For the first time since he first met the man a scarce few hours ago, Yugo felt something other than irritation—genuine fear for Amalia's sake. “Is he truly that dangerous?” He asked, his voice uncharacteristically small. 

Joris’ expression turned grave. “Let's just say you aren't the only demigods attending, my King.”

The twins exchanged alarmed glances, knowing how dangerous a demigod Xelor could be. Adamaï in particular grew irritated. 

“Didn’t you send Amalia to your sons precisely to keep her safe?” He demanded to know. 

“And I will have a talk with them about it, Master Adamaï. However, that doesn’t change the fact that Count Harebourg had most likely been waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce.”

Yugo’s heartbeat resounded in his ears, panic taking hold of his heart and squeezing it tightly. He had to clench his fists until his knuckles turned white to keep himself grounded, to prevent himself from creating a string of portals that would lead him directly to Amalia and allow him to hold her close while he took care of that forsaken count. 

He couldn’t act on his instincts, he had to be diplomatic about it. It’d be best if they waited until the music died down to go look for her. That was the right choice, the kind of choice a king should make. He was doing the right thing, for himself and his people. 

Then why was it physically painful?

Mina’s voice by his side was both a balm to his fears and a fan to the flames. He must have been so out of it he didn’t even register when she slid up next to him. 

“I know you’re trying to do the right thing, Yugo.” She told him, her voice kind. How was she so good at seeing right through him? “And the right thing is making sure Amalia is alright.”

He turned his head to look at her, his eyes unblinking. Mina limited herself to pointing at the dancefloor, where the doll and the count were standing in plain sight. “Whatever it is the count’s trying to do, it’s not a simple dance anymore.”

Terror taking over him at the implications behind her words, Yugo snapped his head back to the direction she was pointing at. A powerful thud! resounded in his ribcage at the image before him, his protective senses flaring alongside a sense of rightful fury. Even from where he stood, he could see Amalia, her eyes wide and frantic as a frightened expression clouded over her features. Holding her with a vice-tight grip was Count Harebourg, the look on his face was downright nightmarish. And yet, the most terrifying thing of all had to be the very real possibility that the Xelor might hurt her. 

Under Adamaï’s worried eyes, the ears in his hood twitched; that was never a good sign. His fears were confirmed shortly after. 

Before the dragon could so much as blink, Yugo had already jumped inside a portal, a bright blue trail following behind him as he moved from one portal to the next, headed straight towards the dancefloor. 

Towards Amalia. 

Their siblings, who had watched the whole exchange, all sent pointed glances at Nora. Except for Phaeris, who just raised an eyebrow at his sister’s methods. And people said he could be a tad extreme. 

“Aren't you supposed to be the mediator? You know, the one who solves conflicts?” Chibi questioned her, incredulous. 

But Mina didn’t even flinch at his outburst, her smile remained exactly where it was. 

“Sometimes the best way to solve an argument is by causing it.” She shot back enigmatically, before turning around and moving deeper into the throngs of people. 

Not for the first time that day, her siblings exchanged helpless glances, hoping beyond hope she didn’t make a mistake. Much like how they prayed to the Great Goddess that Yugo wouldn’t get in trouble for whatever he was about to do. 

......................................................................................................................

The count’s words were so unexpected, Amalia couldn’t help but break their hold, taking one step back in shock. As she stared back at the Xelor, her eyes wide in disbelief, the only sound that left her throat was a quiet, “What?”

But the count just shrugged, as if he hadn’t just shaken her perception of reality. “Don’t act so surprised, my Lady. It’s hard to feel any affection for someone who not once has been there for you when you needed him.”

That… made sense, she supposed, just like she could understand Ush’s distaste for his own father if it was true Ecaflip favoured some of his children more than others. Still, there was something in the way the count uttered those words—so matter-of-factly, so casually, almost as if it was a simple, undeniable fact of life—that sent a shiver down her spine. 

Her unease only grew with each other word that left her fellow demigod’s mouth. 

“And that is another thing you and I have in common.” He let out a mirthless chuckle. “I’ve always heard misery loves company, but I never truly appreciated its meaning until now.”

When the doll found her voice, it was distinctly small and anxious, “I…I don’t think I understand.”

The count’s affable tone did nothing to keep his words from feeling like cold knives aiming at her heart. “But Lady Amalia, don’t you see? We’ve both been abandoned by our respective divine fathers.”

And just like that, the ice cold fear taking hold of her heart melted away, replaced by rightful fury at such blasphemy. How dare he insult her father like that? How dare he insult her like that? How dare he? 

“My father has not abandoned me, Your Grace.” She told him firmly, her tone stern as she balled her hands into fists. 

Her frown only hardened into a scowl when he had the audacity to laugh at that, to laugh at her.

“Lady Amalia, your faith in your father is wonderfully refreshing, but you must face the facts.” Just then, a shadow passed over his features, the smile disappearing completely from his face. “As soon as you were created, your father dumped you here to serve as somebody else’s bride, with no care for your feelings or input. Can you really tell me Sadida hasn’t forsaken you?”

For a moment, the doll hesitated, biting her lip. Still, her father loved her. She was his masterpiece, he said so himself! And he was extremely saddened to watch her go. Besides, she wasn’t sent to the World of Twelve on a whim of her father’s, she was there for a reason. 

“I’m here because the Eliatropes need me—” Amalia began to defend herself, only to be cut off by the sound of the count’s loud, unnerving laughter. 

When his cackles died down and he finally looked her in the eye, it made Amalia wish he’d kept his mask on. The look on his face was the stuff of nightmares. 

“The Eliatropes, you say?” He asked, even though he didn’t wait for an answer to continue. “Lady Amalia, can’t you see how those low-lives don’t deserve you? They have no right coming to our world and demanding our approval and cooperation. And now they believe themselves worthy of being sent a Divine Doll? They believe themselves worthy of you?” He let out a low, sardonic laugh, his manic eye fixed on her form. 

“Don’t make me laugh.”

Before she had time to react or even register the way the partygoers were all looking at them, Count Harebourg held the Sadida Doll by her arms tight enough for her to bruise where his fingertips made contact with her skin. As that ice-powered madman stared deep into her soul, all she could do in her frightened state was to let out a pained gasp. 

“Amalia, come with me to Frigost. If there’s one nation in the World of Twelve that would benefit from you becoming its ruler, that’s my home! Together, we can make everyone pay for turning their backs on us, we can get revenge on the gods for siring us and forsaking us when we need them most! For treating us like we’re replaceable instead of their own flesh and blood! 

“You and I are kindred spirits, Lady Amalia, and soulmates like us must stick together.” Count Harebourg’s lips curled into a smile that was meant to be encouraging but that, combined with the almost frenzied look in his eye, only made him look like a madman. “You already hold my heart, my Lady, all that’s left to do is for you to become my countess and to rule Frigost by my side.”

Much to her chagrin, Amalia was paralysed, her mind completely blank as she found herself genuinely fearing for her life. The sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears was so loud, and her eyes so fixated on the man in front of her, she remained completely unaware of the surprised gasps echoing all around her or the flashes of blue light coming from her periphery. 

Even as the count’s expression darkened into a hate-filled scowl, she remained out of it until the Xelor was shoved back and away from her with incredible force while a pair of strong, warm, protective arms held her close to an equally warm and strong body. For the first time that night, Amalia allowed herself to just melt into that person’s embrace, feeling safe at last.

She could stay in that comforting embrace forever if given the chance. 

Once she’d willed her breathing to go back to normal, the doll chanced to glance up at her mysterious saviour. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of Yugo, his eyes shining a bright blue as his gaze bore down on the count menacingly, a hand outstretched and glowing ominously in case his opponent tried anything funny. 

He held her even closer when Count Harebourg got back up to his feet, his own eye shining with fury at the interruption. “You!” He snarled, encasing his arms in ice sharp enough to cut through steel. 

But before a fight could ensue, Queen Astra’s voice cut through the thick atmosphere like a knife. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Count Harebourg.” She warned, her guests parting to let her pass. At her feet, Master Joris brandished his log-backpack, his intentions clear.

One by one, the Bontarian guards stationed alongside the walls all came to point their weapons at the Xelor count, at the same time as the members of the Council of Six all came to their king’s aid, daring their opponent to make his move. 

Looking around for a way out, Count Harebourg eventually surrendered, his shoulders slouching in defeat as he dispelled the ice on his arms. But not before flashing Yugo a hate-filled glare, a snarl curling at his lips. And with that, he let himself be enveloped by a cold breeze and disappeared. 

As soon as the count vanished, the weight of everything that had just happened, as well as everything leading up to that moment, crashed over Amalia, overwhelming her senses to a point it was almost painful. Her mind a turbulent storm, she wriggled herself free from Yugo’s grasp and stormed off towards the balcony, desperate for some air. 

After a quick glance his siblings’ way to ensure they’d be fine without him, a concerned Yugo was soon to follow.

................................................................................................................

The moment she made it past the threshold leading to the balcony, Amalia groaned, exasperated, “That was just infuriating!”

“Can’t really argue with you there. I’ve been getting a bad feeling from the count since we met him.” Yugo agreed, his eyes back to their usual dark brown. 

He had to take a step back in surprise when Amalia whirled around to face him, a fire in her eyes, “I was talking about you!”

Yugo’s jaw dropped. “Me? But I just saved you from that freak!”

With a humph! Amalia turned back around, crossing her arms. “I didn’t need your help!” She insisted petulantly. 

He couldn’t believe his ears. Mouth agape, he shot back, raising his arms in the air in exasperation. “Don't you see what that guy was trying to do from the very beginning?”

“At first he was just being nice to me!” She countered. Deep down, Amalia knew Yugo was right, but she wasn’t in the right headspace to concede anything. So she pressed on.

“Yeah, to get into your pants!” He shouted.

“I don't see how that's possible, since I’m not even wearing pants today!” She screeched right back.Then, she added, haughtily sticking her nose up in the air. “Besides, you heard Master Joris; no Twelvian in their right mind would dare lay a finger on me.”

Yugo could only blink at her, incredulous. She had to be kidding him. There was no way they were having this conversation. Not after what just happened. 

“I’m sorry, but was he supposed to realise he wouldn't dare hurt you before or after he grabbed you by the arms tight enough to leave bruises on your skin?”

Amalia didn’t respond, she just stared stubbornly to the side. That lit a fire within Yugo, the outrage he felt growing by the second. So that was how it was gonna be, huh? He spent the entire night worrying for her safety, trying to look out for her, and even saving her from that lunatic, and this was how she repaid him?

He wouldn’t have been able to keep the bitterness out of his mouth even if he tried. “Maybe I should’ve let him take you to Frigost with him, seeing as you didn’t need my help.”

“Don’t pretend like you’re any better.” She shot back, turning her body completely so her back was to him. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The Eliatrope asked, his voice low. 

But she didn’t answer. She didn’t even look at him. 

So, mustering every last bit of patience he had, he tried again. “Amalia, what’s that supposed to mean?”

She still refused to even acknowledge his presence. 

“Amalia!”

Still, nothing. Growing exasperated, Yugo almost reached out to her to force her to look at him, but taking notice of how tender the skin Harebourg had grabbed her by looked, he ultimately decided against it. In the end, he opened a portal right in front of her, determined to get her to explain herself. 

What he saw broke his heart in two. 

Even as she still refused to meet his eyes, it was plain to see she was crying, the tears streaming down her cheeks regardless of how hard she tried to keep them at bay. And the way she was desperately hugging herself for comfort only made his heart throb painfully.

“Amalia…” His anger momentarily forgotten, he tried reaching out to her, only for her watery voice to stop him in his tracks. 

“Deep down you’re just like the count, Yugo.” She said, her words like knives to his heart. “You don’t care about me as a person at all, you only care about what I can offer to you and your people.”

“Amalia, that’s not true at all!” He tried to defend himself, aghast by her accusation. “You’re my friend, of course I care about you!”

Much to his consternation, Amalia let out a loud, sardonic laugh, before her eyes turned into daggers as she finally stared back at him. “Oh, really? Is that why you’ve been ignoring me ever since we came back from the beach? Is that why you haven’t been training in front of my balcony anymore? Why, no matter how hard I try to get close to you, you do everything in your power to avoid me? Is that why you recoil from my touch as if my mere presence disgusted you?!”

As she spoke, each word filled with anger, confusion, and hurt, she took one step forward after another, forcing Yugo to go back little by little. She made sure to punctuate each question with a poke of her finger into his chest. The only reason it hurt had nothing to do with the force behind it, but because her words felt like a suckerpunch. 

“What do you expect me to believe, Yugo?” She asked him rhetorically. “What do you expect me to think when the first time in weeks you spend with me has nothing to do with you wanting to be by my side, but because your people need me! Something you couldn’t even talk to me about in person. Oh, no! I had to find out through the Royal tailor!” The doll threw her arms to her sides, the tears falling freely down her cheeks.

“You’re surrounded by your family and people who love you, Yugo, but I only have you. But you…” She choked on her tears, her voice watery and broken from weeks of holding it all back. And yet, Amalia made sure to look him in the eye as she sobbed, “You want nothing to do with me…”

And finally, as her voice broke when she uttered those last few syllables, she brought her hands to her face and she sobbed. Her shoulders going up and down as she hiccuped, brokenhearted. And yet, Yugo felt like he was the one who had his heart ripped off his chest at the sight of her. At the sight of what he’d caused. 

Swallowing hard, he was forced to face the truth. Amalia was right. She was right about everything. Since there was no guarantee they would ever fall in love, he had promised he’d be her friend, only to break that promise as soon as he got scared. The moment they came back from the beach he didn’t just keep her at arm’s length, he refused to even see her unless it was absolutely necessary. 

And, more often than not, it was her who would be looking for him, not the other way around. 

He always got defensive and protective of her whenever she wasn’t near, her happiness becoming a priority. But whenever the doll was within reach, his doubts weighed him down and prevented him from treating Amaia like she deserved. 

With a heavy heart, he was forced to realise the only reason Count Harebourg got close to her in the first place had been because he allowed it. 

“Amalia, I…” He started, swallowing hard. “I’m so sorry. I… I haven’t been fair to you. I-I got so caught up in other things, I didn’t even realise how that made you feel, and I… I’m so sorry.” Technically, that wasn’t a lie, just not the whole truth either. Regardless, he went on. “You don’t deserve the way I’ve been treating you. You’re right, I haven’t been a good friend. But I really want to make it up to you. From now on, I promise to do better, okay?”

She let him place his hands over her shawl-covered shoulders. He supposed that was a start. Tentatively, carefully, he brought his arms around her body, holding her close in an attempt to offer some comfort. His breath almost hitched when she snaked her arms around his sides, just as cautiously. Even in her current state, scared, angry, and tear-stricken, she still allowed him, one of the people responsible for everything, to hug her. 

He’d really screwed up, hadn’t he?

After a few more minutes where the only sound that could be heard in the balcony were her quiet sniffles, the Divine Doll broke their hold enough for her to look up at him from under her lashes. Even with her brown eyes red and puffy, Yugo couldn’t help but admire how beautiful she was, his eyes soft. 

“You really mean that?” She asked in a small voice. 

“Of course!” He assured her. “I promise, I’ll do anything in my power to make it up to you. Is there anything you want to do?”

She remained quiet for a few seconds, pensive, and then… “There’s a thing or two I’d like to do.”

“Tell me, I’m all ears. Whatever it is, we’ll do it.”

“I’d really like to dance with you.” She told him, a flush dusting her cheeks. “I’ve been meaning to ask you all evening, but I didn’t think you would accept.”

He smiled at her. Sometimes she was satisfied with the simplest things. “Of course, I’ll dance with you, Amalia.”

Steadily growing in confidence, she added. “And… and you haven’t said anything about my dress. I lost count of how many times I got pricked by a needle for this, you know?”

If anything, his grin only widened. “There’s no words to describe how you look, Amalia.” He told her honestly. 

Her blush deepening, the doll had to cough slightly before she finally said, glancing shyly back at him. “You… you don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Why, thank you. Anything else?”

“Yes, I’d like to do something fun while we’re here in Bonta.”

“Actually, I might just have the perfect thing.” He smirked. 

“Oh?”

“That’s right. Queen Astra suggested we stay to watch the gobbowl game taking place tomorrow. Apparently, it’s a huge deal around here.”

Amalia wasn’t quite sure what to expect. “If you say so…”

...................................................................................................................

As they watched the Eliatrope King and Sadida’s eleventh doll dancing, both of them sporting blinding smiles on their faces as they swayed to the music and King Yugo twirled Amalia around, her skirt and shawl fluttering behind her with every step, Prince Armand couldn’t help but raise a curious eyebrow at the display. He turned to his father.

“Do you really believe there’s nothing going on between them—?”

“Not even for a second, son.”

.............................................................................................................

“Oh, sweet Sadida!” Amalia exclaimed, completely awestruck. “And that last transfer?!”

“I know!” Yugo agreed, beside himself with excitement. “Man, that Kriss Krass fellow sure knows how to put on a show!”

Walking a few feet ahead of them, Adamaï couldn’t help but smile to himself as his brother and his precious flower bonded over gobbowl. Looking over his shoulder, he had to admit it was quite endearing to see how they discussed the match so animatedly, their hands clasped and their eyes glimmering as they recounted the moments that stood out the most to them. 

Seeing them now after weeks of tense interactions, standing so close to each other and even hugging each other tightly whenever Kriss Krass’ team scored, was all he needed to feel reassured. 

No matter what came next, they would be fine. It was only a matter of time before that thing going on between them blossomed into something more.

#wakfu #wakfu fanfiction #my fanfiction #wakfu au #divine doll! amalia au #the doll and the dragon #divine doll! au #sadida doll! au #yugo the eliatrope #amalia sheran sharm #yumalia #adamaï #qilby #nora #chibi #grougaloragran #phaeris #mina #master joris #joris jurgen #kerubim crepin #atcham #count harebourg #king oakheart sheran sharm #armand sheran sharm #queen astra #shinonomé #ankama #krozmos #dofus

[ursarminoris]

Who is the woman with the queen of Bonta ? Her wife ?

JORIS WORKING FOR LESBIAN QUEENS ? 😱

#maitre joris #season 4 #wakfu #joris jurgen #lesbian queens #bonta queen #queen astra of bonta #lesbian queens of bonta ?

[praetorianxxiv]

Almost there, my version on the Queen Elizabeth Warhammer 40k model by Midwinter Minis.

I present, Queen Victoria's Golden Throne of Praetoria. Changed a bit before 3D printing by the good people at Kraken Gaming Llanelli.

I added some extras to make her more Imperial. Then sorted her base.

Painting in progress.

Here is a little info on the creator.

The Warhammer 40k Queen Elizabeth model, dubbed Lillibet, Potentate of Holy Terra, was created through a collaboration between Warhammer and miniature painting Youtuber Midwinter Minis, and 40k artist Little Plastic People (aka Steve). The mini is a cyborg version of Her Majesty ready for war, her torso fixed to a golden hover-throne that bristles with weapons. The pair unveiled Lillibet, and released free 3D printer files for the model, designed by Steve, on Friday, one day into the ‘Platy Jubes’ celebrations.

Unsupported: https://littleplasticpeoplehome.files.wordpress.com/2022/06/god-save-the-queen-us.zip

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=y_xoSNluXgg&feature=youtu.be

#imperial guard #games workshop #warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #warhammer40k #warhammer #praetorian guard #model making #astra militarum #queen victoria #victoria #queen elizabeth ll #kraken gaming #Little Plastic People #Midwinter Minis #Lillibet #Potentate of Holy Terra #warhammer community

[strawberri-draws]

Queen x jester doodle page :]

#my art #strawberridraws #Astra ocs #my ocs #oc #ocs #oc art #Yipee #queen is named Suhaila #jester is Astra <3

[honestlyitsjustsam]

valorant gifs | [10/?]

#gamingedit #dailygaming #gamediting #valorant #astra #valorant astra #astra valorant #valorantedit #myedit #the queen herself...god i need a 2 hour animation just ded #icated to her #valogifs

[a-whiff-of-a-dream]

okay but why is Gale standing there like this???

#bg3 spoilers #bg3 #gale #lae'zel #wyll #tav astra #everyones just standing there in front of this githyanki queen goddess #waiting for the big blow #and gales just like 'no lemme hear her out'

[android2118]

Here is a collage of Astra Logue (Olivia Swann) from Legends of Tomorrow) and Mazikeen (Lesley-Ann Brandt) from Lucifer.

Queens of Hell!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

❤😈🔥♥️😈🔥❤😈🔥♥️😈🔥❤

#astra logue #olivia swann #dc legends of tomorrow #legends of tomorrow #mazikeen #mazikeen smith #lesley ann brandt #lucifer #queen of hell

[the-feral-gremlin]

for ur pinned; guilt hc - any arrowverse character

Tw: self sabotage, drinking/alcohol mentioned, survivors guilt, and guilt.

After John and Oliver’s fight, Oliver stayed behind at the bunker and didn’t stop using the salmon ladder until his hands had blisters and the sun was already up.

Sara couldn’t look Leo snart in the eye for a long time because he was a reminder that for the first time in a long time, Sara ran away from danger and it got her Leonard Snart killed.

Alex fell off the face of the earth and drank a bottle of whiskey for three days after killing Astra. (When she came back she blamed her disappearance on paperwork/a mission.)

Cisco couldn’t look At Caitlin for a while after Ronnie died (And after everyone found out about what happened in the particle accelerator.)

Mia avoided Rene after coming to the future because she blamed herself/felt responsible for Zoe’s death.

Send me a hc + a word of your choosing and I’ll write a headcanon relating to that word!

#thanks for the ask! #tw alcohol #tw guilt #tw survivors guilt #(just to be safe) #ask box #Oliver queen #John Diggle #sara lance #leo snart #alex danvers #astra #(idk her full name lol) #rene ramirez #Cisco Ramon #Caitlin snow #ronnie raymond #arrow #Arrowverse #headcanons

[tag-of-light]

A fractured star ascends

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #final fantasy 14 #gpose #gposers #ffxiv gpose #gpose comic #ffxiv oc #ffxiv ancients #themis #elidibus #wolelidibus #wolthemis #convocation of fourteen #playing with the idea of Selene as Emmerololth until SE stops me #the 'holy queen' title matches her and Astra too well to pass up #themiselene #ancients #oc: selene #my gposes

[adm-starblitzsteel-4305]

For Astra:

What do you plan to do or change when you become Queen of the Monsters? And which Titans do you like and get along well?

Mothra Astra:

"I'd never thought about being the only heir to the throne. Being a future Queen means guidance and struggle. As a future Queen of the Monsters, I shall continue my role just like my parents: maintaining the Order and Natural Balance of the Earth at any risks and responsibilities, and defending the humanity against any threats that shall come forth. Even at means of being the Star Goddess' avatar and the Bridge of the Celestial Law and Order. The Angel of Stars will once keeping the celestial bodies in check and keeping the spiritual vow to those deceased ones. That two important roles are my main responsibility."

"And as for the Titans, well, I like Anguirus and Rodan a lot as if they were my uncles/godfathers. I met Methuselah, the oldest and wisest Titan who says that he knew much about my Dad and Mom, and a good teacher too. Then there's Scylla, who seems piqued my appearance and is happy about me being the future heir to my parents. Then Behemoth, who always there to watch me when my Mom and Dad are away and I like him growing rarest plants and flowers that his humanity's tribe gave me their gifts about special herbs. Also, I met Na Kika and Tiamat; Na Kika seems really shy of our first meeting and is friendly, she loves talking about me; and as for Tiamat, well...she's somewhat jealous about my beauty, sheeesh, even Dad told her to piss off somewhere else. I haven't met the others, mostly because of Dad and Mom being around and feared about fighting, some won't submit while others do."

"And yes, Na Kika is not the only Titan whom I like the most. An aviary Titan whose name was Minokawa. She's a giant feathery Titan who knew my parents very much; we both shared the island we currently resided for (the Philippines in the present day). She's extremely territorial yet she is very kind for the good and needy ones. She is worshipped by her people who is known for her title as " The Solar Angel ". She says that it is because she harness the power of the Sun and all, but only for her purpose to defend and she can control the climate as well."

"I hope Minokawa is okay, I haven't seen her since my metamorphosis stage. Probably laid dormant from her volcanic home..."

"Anyway, thanks for the question!"

"One more thing. If you are curious about Minokawa, you can try asking her a question too!"

#TITAN OC MENTIONED #THERE WILL BE MORE ABOUT MINOKAWA'S BACKSTORY #There are few Titans who doesn't really know the heir of Godzilla and Mothra #Others knew her because of her birth and their people who foresaw the future Queen of the Monsters #Mothra Astra will be one day succeeded as the new ruler... #...the fate shall decided for her own. #godzilla #mothra #mothra astra #oc #orginal character #kaiju #monsterverse #kaiju oc #godzilla king of the monsters #godzilla kotm #Princess of the Monsters #Eternal Angel of Stars #asked and answered #anonymous #adm starblitzsteel 4305

[bellusastra]

DAAAAAAY 16 OF MERMAY

#astra art #doodle #mermay #my art #mermaid oc #mermaid #mermaid character #she’s my queen #mer may

[shittyh2g2headcanons]

Arthur Dent is celebrating! Trillian Astra is celebrating! Ford Prefect is celebrating! Zaphod Beeblebrox is celebrating! Marvin even begrudgingly has a party hat on!

#guide entry: ding dong the witch is dead #arthur dent #ford prefect #zaphod beeblebrox #trillian astra #the hitchhikers guide to the galaxy #shitty h2g2 headcanons #may delete later #need u all to know that queen sympathizers will be blocked

[praetorianxxiv]

I present my take on Lord Solar Leontus, Queen Victoria's Golden Throne of Praetoria. Bravely leading the Praetorian Guard into battle.

I have had so much fun working on this fantastic miniature by Midwinter Minis, Elizabeth was replaced with Victoria by the good people at Kraken Gaming.

I converted it up to look more 40k and made a unique base for her.

I am very happy with the outcome.

There are also rules for her that cover 9th and 10th edition Warhammer 40k, but these are not official.

#games workshop #warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #warhammer40k #imperial guard #warhammer #praetorian guard #model making #astra militarum #painting warhammer #miniature painting #painting #warhammer community #queen victoria #queen victoria on the golden throne #Little Plastic People #Midwinter Minis #Lillibet #Potentate of Holy Terra #warhammer conversion #wargaming #syfy #praetorian guard xxiv #praetorian 40k #praetorian #kraken gaming #kraken gaming ltd

[strawberri-draws]

lyrics from Good Luck Babe by Chappell Roan </3

#my art #strawberridraws #astra ocs #oc #ocs #my ocs #oc art #lesbian #wlw #that moment when u regret killing the hot alien queen and dream about her every night lying next to your equally tortured husband

[lured-into-wonderland]

Continued from [x] with @distopea

Professor Queen was charming. His smile was charming and it put Nunnally into a light and cheerful mood despite her awkward apologies. Were they perceived awkward? Was she perceived awkward? She was aware that was often the case outside her social bubble. But she was not sure she could do anything about it without losing the demeanour that was so useful in the world, where she belonged (or had to belong). Nunnally was also aware of her not-so-good time management, but it was not something that would get used against her. At least most of the times. She was just about to proceed with her questions (and she hoped for the discussions following her questions) when Professor Queen started to talk (or perhaps she should call him Anthony?; she was more used to that).

His words – in her opinion – were in a clear contrast with the tone of his voice. With his demeanour. Was he scolding her for being late? Belittling her knowledge on the subject? Why? She didn't have much troubles to follow the lecture. She came prepared. She had read his essay before coming to the lecture as well as some of the other works he cited. So, why these words? Clearly suggesting (in her mind at least) that she had not read his work before coming here. But doing that would be a waste of her and his time, right? Was it again because of how she looked? Was it because others usually considered that if you're pretty you cannot be smart? That she could not be interested in (and knowledgeable about) science? That all her qualities were her looks and her fate was to simply become an arm candy of a rich and powerful man? Well, they were wrong, but it was neither the time nor the place (and perhaps also not the person) to prove the world wrong.

Nunnally was usually not the one to cause commotion in the public. So, she kept her polite (although now not so genuine smile) as Astra was continuing to talk. However, if he was a careful observer, he might have noticed that her eyes suddenly stopped sparkling and were almost lifeless, dull for a few moments.

“I understand. I understand that you are busy. Perhaps another time then.” – she said politely; her voice gentle, but distant – “…but I am afraid I will not find answers to my question in your essay…I have read it before coming here and I was triggered by some of your ideas that I wanted to discuss further…” – perhaps she should not mention that; perhaps just the first part of her reply should have been enough, but Nunnally couldn't resist the desire to hint him, to let him know she was not what (or who) he was thinking her to be – “I just thought you might have elaborated on some open questions that seemed to be there in your essay…”  

His next words were able to lighten her mood ever so slightly. She offered Astra a small smile when he – perhaps unintentionally – compared her with a star. Nunnally was used to getting compliments, but this one (if at all meant as a one) was a refreshing one; one she had never heard before.

“It’s so beautifully said, Professor Queen. You now made me wondering if you also write poetry…” – she had that unexpected thought that she would like to sketch him, but she was aware that asking him to become her model, especially now, when he implied he was busy would be awkward. Not to say simply rude. She wondered for a few moments if she truly wanted to give him her surname. Nunnally avoided that as much as she could as it immediately stripped her (in her own view) from being a person of "her own" and instantly making her “her father’s daughter”. Which she disliked, but accepted as the years passed. But she knew who he was, and it was also not a secret who she was (perhaps he might have known and it was just a way to verify, to confirm his assumptions). So, she simply decided to grant what he so nicely asked for: --

“It’s Nunnally. Nunnally Ambly des Ayvelles.” – it wasn’t technically a lie. In fact, it was what her birth certificate said, although her family, or more precisely her father, in his public and professional life used the second segment of their surname. So did she. To make it seem less aristocratic? Less high-class? Although Nunnally didn't expect him not figure out the connection, she still hoped that perhaps he’d not notice that. Or not care about it – “But now when you have all atoms and neutrons in front of you, would you mind simply signing it for Nunnally? I would appreciate it, if it would not make you uncomfortable, Professor Queen.”

Now when she was able to brush off her first disappointment, Nunnally made a gesture as if she wanted to take another paper out of her folder, but she changed her mind stopping her hands in the middle way. She smiled to Astra again: --

“Professor Queen…do you give interviews?” 

#astra #anthony queen #nunnally #verse: human #distopea #if he had some interest in her father #he'd surely know who she is #and apologies it comes late #but it got lost in my drafts

[a-whiff-of-a-dream]

You know what? Astra and Gale would be the kind of people to pay lots for one of those royal commission paintings of Tara

#like seriously #just saw one of them on pinterest and was like yup #i think its Astra who brings it up and then Gales like whatever you want queen #and when the commission is done they put it up so nicely in one of those big prunky wooden frames above the fireplace or something #somewhere theyll see everday #i think it would fit their vibes so much #bg3 gale #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep