Dietrich couldn’t find Abella. Perhaps it was a skill of hers, disappearing when she had been in his sight just a moment ago. He had checked the terraces, but she wasn’t on any of them. I haven’t checked the garden yet. Dietrich didn’t know why he was concerned, but there was an uncomfortable pit in his stomach, as though something bad were going to happen. He tried to brush the feeling off, but it still ate at his conscious and he found himself feeling worried for that fearless petite girl whom he would one day marry.

Managing to temporarily escape the crowd of nobles who wanted to talk to him and potentially try to manipulate him, Dietrich kept searching for Abella in the garden. In the grass, he found Abella’s heels, and a strange sense of dread filled him.

“Abella!” he called out. Perhaps she had been kidnapped. She definitely seemed small enough to be stuffed in a sack, and certainly light enough to be picked up and taken off by some scum. He found himself unconsciously calling Abella by her first name, dropping the honorifics as he called out her name. Suddenly, he heard shouts in the distance, and immediately set off in a brisk walk towards the sounds.

Just as he arrived at the southern Palace entrance, the gates burst open and peasants equipped with real weapons stormed in, the Black Lions fighting them desperately. Dietrich was shocked – such a large number of peasants all gathered for one rebellion? This had definitely all been planned prior… but by who? Just as he was drawing a sword that had been pierced inside the body of a peasant, he spotted Abella, calmly standing still with a worried-looking man next to her in a Black Lions’ uniform and armour.

Why was she here? Wasn’t she meant to be at the Ball? Dietrich suddenly remembered what Abella had warned him of a few days ago – the Black Lions would all die. He felt a surge of dread as he rushed to protect Abella.

“Stay back! These people are dangerous,” he said briskly to Abella as he blocked a sword’s blow with his own. Stepping back, he slashed the man across the chest and he collapsed. With no time to check whether or not he was dead, Dietrich quickly moved on to fight another. How had mere commoners got ahold of such high-quality weapons, and such a large quantity of them? They certainly had a provider… he would need to keep some alive to interrogate afterwards.

Moving from each assailant, he cut them all down one by one. “Abella! Leave already!” He was frustrated. Why was she still standing there when the danger in front of her was clear? Was she stupid? Or… did she have something up her sleeve? He had no time to be wondering about the potential dangers that Abella could possess – he was too busy with the onslaught of commoners. As he clashed blades with a middle-aged man, he flinched, sensing someone coming up behind him that wasn’t Abella.

He wasn’t able to push away the middle-aged man fast enough to use his blade for the other assailant.

Oh well. I guess I should have known that I wouldn’t get out of this unscathed, Dietrich thought to himself. He had suffered far worse than a slash – he would still live. But what about Abella? She would certainly die once he was unable to keep protecting her. And why wasn’t she running already? He had warned her already, so why was she still there?

Dietrich had killed many people in his life. Thousands. Hundreds of thousands. He was never particularly interested in the death of other people, not even his comrades, and the people his probably cared most about would be the Black Lions. But for some reason, he found himself not wanting Abella to die. He wanted her to live. And he had no clue why. (This rhymes omg so cheesy I didn’t mean to make it rhyme)

Dietrich closed his eyes, preparing himself for the pain of the sword cutting into him, but it never came. Instead, he heard a metallic clash, as though a sword had hit a solid surface hard. He opened his eyes, and found the middle-aged man lying limp on the ground a little distance away. Dietrich himself had a light blue transparent shield around him, little hexagons forming a dome around him. Abella! What happened to her? Dietrich whipped around, only to see Abella holding her hand out. She had formed the shield.

“You done yet?” she asked. Just then, a young teenage boy jumped up with a sword, ready to slash Abella when she wasn’t looking.

“Abella! Behind you—” before he could finish, Abella had swished her other hand out behind her and the boy was suddenly pushed away by a powerful, invisible force. A small smirk formed on her delicate features, seeming fitting, even for such a gentle, harmless-looking young girl.

“I didn’t know we were on a first-name basis,” Abella glanced at Dietrich briefly before turning around. The peasants’ attention were all on Abella, and had almost all but completely forgotten about Dietrich.

“Hey! Just run already, you’re not invincible!” Dietrich shouted. She didn’t move. “Are you stupid or something? Get away from here—”

Abella raised her arm and brought it down sharply in the air. All of a sudden, the peasants around collapsed. The shield around Dietrich slowly went down, and he wandered towards one of the limp bodies of a peasant.

“Are they—” He asked hesitantly.

“No, they’re not dead. But they might end up dead soon,” Abella said, staring down at a peasant.

“What? Is it some sort of poison spell—”

He was interrupted once again. “No.” Abella looked up at him with knowing purple eyes. “’End up dead soon’. That’s your job, isn’t it? We have to know why they attacked and who’s behind it. Weren’t you the head of that department?”

Dietrich sighed. “You’re more powerful than you look.” He admitted.

“You’re more powerful than you look,” Abella retorted, beginning to walk away from him.

“What’s that meant to mean?” Dietrich asked, a little offended at how his skills – or his looks – had been insulted. Abella had probably heard him, but chose to ignore the question. Abella didn’t return to the Ball after that, neither did Dietrich. He went straight to interrogating and locking up the commoners from the rebellion – the ones left alive, at least.

The injured Black Lions were sent to rest and get healed by the Imperial healers after Abella snapped the memory of her out of each of their minds. None of them would remember her being there, and they would simply remember it as the Crown Prince had came and saved them.

Abella returned to her room and in her nightgown and bare feet, she sat on the railing of her terrace balcony, enjoying the night. Today had been interesting. She hadn’t just changed something that had always remained the same in all her lives, but the people around her had also changed. Things… were looking up. For the while she was alive, anyways.