Valentine.

Hold Your Tongue.

For the full experience, readers are highly encouraged to read with the embedded music!

I turn to observe my surroundings: balloons float about freely, music, dancing, games, vendors, and food. Everyone is well and having a good time.

I had almost forgotten how charismatic and good-natured a good bulk of his people were. Then there were the few nobles that usually ruined the vibe but regardless, the residents of his court knew how to celebrate.

I too, step out into the crowd and offer curtsies to various guests and take part in the festivities.

After a while, I feel as though I had never even left. The carefree and harmonious townspeople's energy grows on me and in this moment, I truly feel at peace and content. I allow myself to carelessly wonder about through the various booths.

Countless assortments of paintings litter the sector. A particular piece however, that captures my attention, is the small, lone painting of what appears to be a shadow. In the drawing; the shadow belongs to a woman. Her arms are extended to the air as she stretches up on her toes. What piques my interest however, is the lightning bolt in her left hand.

I lean in closer and notice the bump protruding from her abdomen. She is pregnant. I smile fondly at the detail of the luscious illustration until my eyes land on the title in the bottom-right corner of the canvas. It reads: 'The Lightning Queen'.

I instantly draw back, flustered. A chill runs over me, and I swiftly abandon the canvas to resume my exploratory stroll. My sweeping vision is seized in its tracks at the rare sight of a laughing Valentine all the way across the fields, on the other side of the statue, conversing with his men.

Taking some time to study him, my thoughts wander. His infallible ability to go from a calm, spirited lover to a murderous psychopath never failed to traumatize me. So much so to the point that I had decided to jump ship and abandon the life I knew a year ago. The life I built with him. Too many bodies met the cold consequences of his rage and that unpredictability...it scared me.

Though we've been on a good streak, that same delicate clock I felt ticking in Ares, I felt tenfold in Valentine. I figure it would only be a matter of time until that time bomb exploded once again, and this scared me. Chilled me to the bone.

No matter how much I try, I'll never be able to figure you out, I think sullenly to myself as I continue to watch him throw his head back in another below of sweet laughter, the strong muscles in his jaw flexing as he mutters something to his company that I can't comprehend.

Just then, whilst caught up in the midst of my reverie, my thoughts are sent scattering as my body is violently bumped off of the trailway, my sweets flying out of my gasp and skittering across the floor. I buckle my knees just in time to avoid being thrown off balance and sent to the ground along with the candies.

I look up to see an elderly man glaring down at me with an expression of twisted rage and a golden set of bared teeth. He hosts an animalistic look nestled in a pair of sunken eyes as he breathes heavily towards my shocked figure. The graybeard takes a bold step closer, intruding on the distance between us as he spits menacingly. "May you be damned! May you be damned! You mortal enchantress. You bring nothing but shame to the people of the sky".

A thousand emotions are coursing through me, the prevalent one being fear. Fear of the pure rage radiating off of him. Fear of his intimidating proximity to my stunned figure. Fear of how far he was backing me from the comforting daylight and safety of the pathway. But most of all, fear of what Valentine would do to him for his audacious actions...

It was no secret that many people in Olympus were not in favor of my existence, probably preferred me dead, but no one had ever been so bold enough as to actually take action on those feelings... that is, not until now.

"You spend your days posing and leeching on our power. You are no queen. You are but an imposter" he growls again, poison lacing every syllable as he backs me further and further into the shaded woods. The man's knuckles begin to whiten, as a result of his fists being clenched so tight at his sides.

Panic settling in, I try to reason with him before something terrible happens. "I-I'm sorry. Have I done something to offend you, sir?" I stutter wiping my sweaty palms against my shawl. I almost trip twice shuffling backwards trying to preserve the already scarce distance between us as he continues to corner me back.

He cocks his head to the side and gives way to an evil grin. "The devil is back. He has come to claim the throne. To take back what is his" he taunts manically drawling out every vowel.

A huge blob of mixed saliva deliberately lands its way onto the tip of my shoe. Beginning to break my calm, I draw my shawl in closer around my body for comfort as we continue stumbling further into the woods.

Lurching forward, the crazed figure lunges towards me and instantly rips it out of my grasp, exposing my arms and tight dress to the chilling cold of the forest.

This prompts him to explode into fits of mocking laughter, pointing at me and chanting: "He's coming, everyone will pay. He's coming". He continues spitting as he brings his voice up to the top of his lungs in a loud shriek: "HE'S COMING! YOU WILL ALL SURRENDER AND REAP! HE'S COMING!"

I cover my face and begin to scream as all rational thought leaves my body, while he continues to shout his menacing rhyme, over and over again.

The forests finally go deathly quiet, and the next thing I hear is the sickening sound of too many bones cracking at once. A shrilling cry briefly ensues, and I reopen my eyes in time to see the figure harshly dropping down onto a set of bloodied knees. His body does so with an abnormal equilibrium and within seconds, he is bowed down before me, his eyes glued to the ground at my feet as he struggles against an invisible force. White sparks fizz their way up along his frail body, trailing all the way up to his neck as his head jerks up to face me. The graybeard tries to turn away in defiance, but his head is immediately drawn back by that same powerful force holding him hostage. I know that force...

"Beg her, for your life." booms Valentine's amplified voice from no longer across the square, but directly behind me.

"Or what?" spits the old man in response as he continues to jerk his head in a pitiful attempt to dodge the restrictive sparks growing around his neck. His smile grows as he gladly continues to grapple against his invisible restraints.

Without having to turn around, I can already picture Valentine for the seething mess that he is. His radiation alone had begun to shrivel the surrounding shrubbery, his rage rolling off of him in destructive waves. A small crowd has now gathered at the entryway to the woods and one by one, civilians were watching on, their mouths agape and their eyes wide. It seems that ticking time bomb I had explained earlier would be going off much sooner than I would've liked...and I fear the townsfolk were coming too close into the blast radius.

'Stop it. They are watching. Your people are watching, Valentine.' I try to mind-link him, but he is in too deep of a trance to hear me. Oh. No.

I turn to him desperately.

"Valentine!" I warn again, this time aloud as I asses his rapidly escalating state. His eyes are a wild, colorful mess, and his electricity begins to overtaken the entirety of the perimeter, bringing  scorching heat and pressure with every jolt and fizz.

Thankfully, beginning to feel the magnitude and threat of his bolts, the onlookers begin to disperse and back away from the scene. That is, all save for the one currently bleeding at the knees inches away from my slippers. And I know I shouldn't feel remorse, but for some reason there had seemed to be a certain look in his eyes. One that had been uncanny. Unnatural. Something was up.

"YOU WILL WATCH YOUR TONGUE, OR YOUR OWN BLOOD WILL BE THE LAST THING YOU TASTE" roars Valentine, his voice echoing around us in a dozen pairs as his aurora continues to grow and grow, creating a now-blinding force-field around us.

"He's not himself. He doesn't know what he is doing. Someone else is behind this" I shout shielding my eyes, but it's no use. My words aren't getting through to him.

I face my second dilemma this week: I am well aware of how stupid my next actions may be, but I refuse to let another soul perish- not if I have anything to say about it...