Her first foot out into the main palace only happened when she was eleven. According to the palace maids, her release was solely attributed to the grace and generosity of their benevolent emperor Zerstead Romarel Corpseul. Her father. 

The grand sun of Keashire, the reason for its prosperous rule, Zerstead, convinced the empress that the first princess – and the only princess, at that – needed to make her debut to strengthen the name of the imperial family. Apparently, he even took it upon himself to afford her the best education, personally filtering and stringently handpicking her tutors, demanding detailed reports on her progress on a regular basis. The education of a princess from birth to adulthood was a task commonly and exclusively borne by the empress, so rumours quickly spread that the emperor was so profoundly ashamed of his first child, a mere daughter and slow in intellect, that he aggressively pushed her under the tutelage of only the best the empire had to offer, so that she could become a Corpseul that did not bring shame to the royal family.

Her first steps in high society amongst snobby ladies who looked their crooked noses down at her, her first interactions with insignificant nobles who claimed to want to support her, her first dance with a man many years her senior whom she still thought of from time to time – all of it happened during the ball held on her eleventh birthday.

Grunt, grunt, grunt.

Zion was staring at her. Looking out at the expansive, wintry landscape, Chrysanthyllis wondered if things would have turned out differently for her had she been born here, not as a Corpseul, not as noble of the Keashire empire. The vastness of Huvestria stood in stark contrast to the suffocating isolation she had endured in the palace for eighteen years. Here, in an unfamiliar territory with no one who knew who she was, she did not have to struggle to keep her head above water. Here, she had respite. 

But, no one could say how long it would last. In the blink of an eye, all of this could be taken away from her and destroyed, the same way her beloved nanny and all of those innocent maids had been deposed.

Grunt, grunt. Grunt?

It could be her own imagination, but Zion was becoming more and more expressive in the sounds he made. She shook her head mildly. “It’s nice here,” she murmured. “Thank you for granting my request.”

Grunt.

He let go of her arm and held his hand out to her, and this time, she decided to take him up on his offer. Their walk back was slow, with him thoughtfully trimming the span of his steps to a pace she could match. Eventually, she tired of having her hand at chest level, and anyway the posture was too formal for an adventure in a snowy forest, so she shifted to clasp one of his fingers, dropping their hands between them. The nod of his head suggested that he preferred it this way as well.

As they retraced their steps, Zion began to look around, almost nervously. Chrysanthyllis found it peculiar, because they had not encountered any wild animals throughout their trek, and she was also sure that any animal that wanted to live would not attempt to go up against Zion. Suddenly, a silver hue caught her eye. Zion grunted, but the moving object did not retreat. It was then that she realised it was a small snake.

“Should we stay still?”

Grunt.

Rather than fear, Zion sounded annoyed. He was glaring at the snake, and then he was glaring at her. Without warning, he picked her up, carrying her on one arm like a wee baby. Awkwardly, she adjusted herself, holding on to one of the juts on his shoulder for support. The snake did not falter; it slithered up Zion’s leg, across his torso, and then it paused on his bicep, its head pointed towards his face. Chrysanthyllis could not help but stare in bewilderment as it began to writhe and thrash about in frustration. She either had an overactive imagination, or her eyes needed fixing, but it looked as if the snake was trying to get under Zion’s skin. 

Zion had had enough. He bellowed so vociferously that she flinched even though she knew it was not directed at her. His expanded chest and the booming sound that originated from him sent aftershocks vibrating through her rigid body. In response, the snake jerked its head backwards, its large, shiny black jewel eyes teeming with surprise. Chrysanthyllis’s experience with animals was pretty much non-existent, but she found this dramatic little serpent immensely adorable. 

Zion grunted in exasperation again, and the snake, apparently just as chagrined, slid across his bicep towards Chrysanthyllis. She made eye contact with it, and it almost seemed like there was a smile on its face. She did not know how to handle this situation, nor did she know if the snake meant them harm. A little anxious now, she flattened her body against Zion’s shoulder, and in return, he tightened his cradle around her. 

The snake was now on her forearm, its cold scales soft against her tight muscles. All of the hairs on her body were standing, like a cat riled up, but she doubted she was capable of lashing out in explosive feline retaliation, even if done in defence. After all, she only knew how to cower, and it was how she got through all of the punishments the empress meted out to her. 

Instead, Chrysanthyllis held her breath, watching in trepidation as the silver animal gleefully glided across her tingling skin till it was face to face with her. The hexagon scales lining its lips parted so uniformly that she did not notice a small triangular hole until a pink forked tongue flickered out with childlike cheekiness. Tentatively, she brought her index finger close to its face. It did not hesitate to rub its nose against her in the sweetest display of affection. The pleasant surprise brought a tiny smile to her face.

Bellow.

Clearly displeased, Zion grabbed the snake by the base of its head and whipped it off of her arm. His eyes glowed fiercely, but the snake had more guts than its size let on. It stuck out its tongue again, making a face with the obvious intent of provoking Zion, and Chrysanthyllis giggled softly. Zion immediately stiffened, glowering at her. He could not help that his expression was fixed in a creepily wide monster smile perforated with sharp teeth, but she realised that he was an open book with his emotions. His body was rigid, radiating sullenness. She must have hit her head when she passed out going against her seal, because she was not scared of him at all. 

A sigh rumbled from Zion’s chest. He released the snake on the white snow, and it happily slithered away, turning back once and flicking its tongue at them, either as a gesture of farewell or a last show of sassiness, before disappearing out of sight. 

“May I be put down?”

He contemplated for a while, and then he shook his head in a firm no. He had denied her, but Chrysanthyllis did not mind. He was not being nasty about it, and his closeness was actually doing her chilled body wonders. The winter clothes that Elliot gave her were thick, but her body was not used to being out in the cold for hours. In Keashire, imprisoned in her room, forbidden even from entering the gardens, she had no idea what each season brought to the empire and its people. Since arriving in Huvestria, she was learning what it meant to be alive.

Since Zion was intent on carrying her the entire way back to the castle, staying skittish and edgy seemed a little pointless, so Chrysanthyllis tried to make herself comfortable. She relaxed into his arm and rested a hand on his shoulder, near to his neck where there was no spike. Towards the end of their outing, she was even leaning into the crook of his neck, perhaps a little too at ease with someone who could snap her body in half with just a twist of his fingers.

Only when they reached her room did Zion finally loosen his grip around her. Chrysanthyllis did not want to admit it, but she was somewhat disappointed that he was soon going to put her down. It was the first physical contact she had that did not inflict pain on her, the first time she knew that the touch of another being could be so warm. Indeed, good things did not last. She held on to one of his spikes and slid down his torso, but he was a colossal giant, and her feet did not come close to touching the floor. She dangled from his neck, her legs brushing against his, and then she felt something large and hard rise against her legs. Zion tensed against her.

“Did…I offend you?” she asked timidly. “I’m sorry.”

Growl…

He even sounded strained. Nervous now, she squeezed her eyes shut and let go of his spike, letting herself drop to the floor. Eyes on the ground, unable to face the rage and contempt that no doubt coloured his person, she suddenly felt helpless, stuck and sinking in an endless expanse of quicksand with nothing but brown for miles. If she begged for mercy, would he punish her less? But if his temperament was anything like the empress’s, her grovelling might only push him further into the depths of bloodlust. She would be digging her own grave if she miscalculated. Swallowing hard, she found the courage to lift her head.

Towering over her, eyes glinting under the lights, the monster of Huvestria castle had his head turned away. Had she been less sensitive to body language, she might not have noticed that his shoulders were trembling. In spite of his stiff posture, she was certain that he was not actually angry. She could breathe easy, and as she released her head from its upward trajectory, her eyes caught sight of a formidable bulge in his pants.

Oh, heavens.