Eye of The Halcyon

1. Wedding Impossible

When there's ongoing suspicion of a Snake-loyalist loitering about your kingdom and pending war, it is best to sleep with an eye open. But as Tedros shot bleary eyes to the domed embossed ceiling, fingers curled tightly around a dagger, he was reminded he couldn't curb illness or fatigue, so for another night, the king's eyes drooped and closed to lovers at war, a bright morning sun glowering at them.

Smooth white legs came dripping from ferocious, slithering vines, a girl tussling within them. A golden boy watched as her chest rose and fell, her eyes windy with hurt and confusion, as if her love was somewhere else now, replaced by a dark monster of rage. And as he raised his sword up, higher and higher to an amaretto sky, Tedros caught his reflection in its steel, angry and unforgiving.

In a split second, his blade came down, angling for Agatha's neck–

"Hasn't even been a week yet and you've already got a hundred-and-fifty students enrolled." Tedros awakened to gray coils of smoke rising from a porcelain demitasse next to a silver platter of assorted cheeses, fruits and bread, the only steel in sight.

Tedros sat up and sighed, attempting to pacify himself. It had been almost two weeks since the last time he was able to sleep without a wretched, bloody dream, threatening him of imminent doom.

"Is something wrong?" A voice asked.

Through guipure curtains splintered the rays of a promising morning sun, playing up his boyish golden curls softly wrapped around his princess' fingers. He found Agatha's eyes, soft and warm. And as she brushed her hands deeper into his hair, he found himself reclining again against his pillows feeling as light as the rising sun, climbing the sky with no perpetual stop.

He took her hand to his lips and kissed it. In a morning's stillness he felt only alive with her touch. There is a love so strong not even words could contain it, and as he looked at Agatha again, he felt his heart pump slowly, burdened with a weight he could not explain. Sometimes he felt this burden was her absence, a hole so wide in his heart it couldn't be patched.

So much love and yet in his dreams he killed her.

Tedros tensed up again.

"I was just thinking." said Tedros, letting go of her hand.

"If it's about those flying scripts I'm sure the whole thing will blow over," Agatha said, the black collar of her dress barely concealing the red rash sprawling onto her neck. Tedros could hear the fidget in her breath beneath the clutter of the gold-rimmed plates as she fixed the tilt top table over his lap, aggressively piling plates onto it. "It's probably only a matter of time before we find the culprit. You'll see."

Tedros met her tight-lipped smile and slowly trailed his eyes to her crossed hands, fingertips pink and blistered. An earmark of her excessive nail-biting habit. "Probably," muttered Tedros, barging a grape around his plate, watching it roll around.

He thought about the last time he and Agatha ever shared a quiet, peaceful time together without discussing villains, intricate plans, murderous usurpers or flimflam about the castle or the kingdom or the stupid floating odes and was left with a sense of sadness.

By taking Agatha to Camelot he was promising her a life full of love, peace and happiness. And despite all this here they were, not even a month into their supposed Ever After sulking in silence, barely a step away from the first block.

"I was chased around by what looked like a giant pink lizard this morning," said Agatha, trying to avoid a bout of awkward silence. A small smile dimpled Tedros' cheek as he looked at her. "Storytelling so compelling it could rival the Storian's itself." Tedros sighed, stretching his arms across the headboard, the thin white line around his neck shining in daylight.