Once upon a time, in the long, distant past, there was a young girl of twelve with skin the shade of topaz, hair dark as coal, and eyes black as night.

As the child of a pair of tailors, the girl spent her days nestled between tall spires of all the colours of the rainbow. With needle and thread in hand, she wove shining golds and silvers through fabric, creating dreams out of nothing.

“Why do you do this everyday?” her younger brother, merely six years old, would often ask whenever his little legs toddled over to her tiny sanctuary in the back room of their family’s modest store. “Do you not get bored? Come outside and play!”

He would tug and pull her hand, but the girl would always give him the same soft smile and run a comforting hand through his hair as he scowled.

“I have to help Mother and Father, Abhipadma,” she would say like clockwork, rinse and repeat. “One day, when you are grown, you will understand.”

“I will never understand,” Abhidama would reply just as often, lower lip jutted out petulantly. “I will never grow up, so I will never understand.”

It was a half-hearted threat, but his words carried a certain weight that such a young boy likely did not intend. They lived in a war-torn and troubled Palaedia, in a place where neighbour turned against neighbour, where you could find a knife in your chest if you did not exercise caution. There was a real chance Abhipadhma would never experience the joy of becoming older.

When life was an economy, time was a privilege.

“You should not say things like that,” the girl would admonish before sighing and setting down her needle.

More and more, she found herself acquiescing to those two big, round eyes that looked like the entire world would collapse if she did not give in.

“Five minutes.”

And then Abhipadma would whoop and holler with glee, dragging his sister out of the room as if life as they knew it was not crumbling around them, was not teetering dangerously on the edge of a cliffside. Because to Abhipadma, there was just him and her, a brother and a sister and a whole, sprawling world waiting for them to explore.

And in those moments, those fleeting pockets of happinesses, it really did seem that way.

***

“Y-You monster!”

Joon-Han Jeong looked down at the woman quivering under his boot, and his lips curled over his teeth into a wicked grin. He brought the tip of his cutlass to the base of her throat, using it to yank her head up to face his.

He pushed the sword’s edge against her pale skin, drawing a sliver of blood. The oozing red gathered at the tip of her chin and fell in splatters onto the hard, rocky earth below.

Joon leaned down to look the woman squarely in the eyes.

“Monster? Me?” he asked as if the notion were the most ludicrous thing in the world. “If I remember correctly, you’re the one who hunts people for money. You’re the one who profits from every life you take. People are just an income for you, right? Trade in a man for a few thousand ruples? Is that the price you put on life?”

“You—”

“Monster? Me? No,” Joon clicked his tongue, pushing a few loose strands of the woman’s hair behind her ear before gently cupping her cheek.

He winked. “I’m afraid that’s all you, my dear.”

The woman opened her mouth to protest, but her words were rendered a garbled mess as Joon pushed the blade straight through her throat.

***

In her years of service as the right-hand to General Gaia Gwendolyn and a knight of the Lotus Guard, Lieutenant Hisa Hirayuki had been on many a dangerous mission. She didn’t have the fingers to count the times she had barely survived by the skin of her teeth and unending pride for her country. She could picture herself, bloody and broken, buried under the corpses of her fallen comrades who were newly smoking with death.

But while looking into Piyumi’s bathroom, Hisa wondered whether she was facing her toughest battle yet.

“Oh my…”

The bathroom was small, which somehow made the mess even worse. Rolls of toilet paper were scattered about the dulled tile floor, and what looked to be a decade’s worth of empty toothpaste tubes were strewn all over the counter. Some of the leftover gel had hardened to resemble resin. Strands of red hair clogged the drain, crawling out of the sink like two arms trying to heave a body through the gap. The layer of grime growing on the shower’s glass panelling was so thick that Hisa couldn’t see through it. She didn’t even dare to look in the direction of the toilet. She could only imagine what sorts of horrors lurked there.

It was abundantly clear. The new crown princess was, to put it frankly, a pig.

Luckily for Hisa, she was not only a seasoned combatant, but also a proficient soldier in the domestic arts. She didn’t shy away from the monstrosity before her, like many others in her position would have. In fact, her eyes sparked at the challenge.

“Right,” she said firmly to herself. “Let’s do this.”

She knew that even she couldn’t tackle that warzone of a bathroom without cleaning supplies, so she shuffled down the hallway to poke her head into Piyumi’s bedroom. It was around mid-morning. Despite how noisily Hisa had bustled around the kitchen earlier, the princess was still asleep, snoring away in the same clothes she had worn the day before.

The Palaedian wondered whether she should stir Piyumi awake. She’d heard from General Gwendolyn that the late queen had been a notoriously late-riser in her youth. It had often fallen to the general as her personal bodyguard to drag Queen Piyumi out of bed for her lessons. If such a habit was hereditary…

Hisa watched the sleeping princess, tossing the idea of waking her around in her head a moment longer before she softly shut the bedroom door. No. She wasn’t going to disturb the sleep of the future queen to merely inquire where the cleaning materials were kept.

Besides, Piyumi deserved ample rest after the previous night’s ordeal. Poor thing was probably still shaken up after getting attacked out of the blue, and being just moments from death—

Piyumi let out a particularly loud snore.

Okay, perhaps not.

Hisa had a feeling, however, that Piyumi wouldn’t have been sleeping so soundly if she knew how totally and utterly Hisa had failed her. The lieutenant sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she made her way through the rooms of the house in search of her supplies.

The aftermath of the queen’s death had been…messy. Princess-General Sharn had discretely sent word to the lords governing Palaedia’s other four states about the sudden power vacuum, hoping to keep the information on the down low. But as the leaders suddenly began to scramble to the Capital, the news had spread across Palaedia as fast and ferociously as the Goddess Padmadevi’s flames. The circumstances surrounding the queen’s assassination hadn’t escaped the notice of the general public either.

Hisa shoved a cupboard door shut, trying her best to oust the pointed glares and scowls she’d received from her mind. Lord Triton of Trimestus, the leader of Palaedia’s southernmost state, had even lobbied for her banishment when the lords had all convened. It would’ve been a worthy fate for someone like that ‘other traitorous bastard,’ Lord Triton had said.

Fortunately, General Gwendolyn had put a stop to the idea with an announcement that had sent the entire meeting room into an uproar.

“A daughter. Queen Piyumi has a daughter in the Other Realm.”

Hisa hadn’t known what to think. She’d heard rumours about the time Queen Piyumi had spent in the Other Realm before, but the lieutenant had barely been a year old at the time. Apparently, Queen Pyara—the ruler before Piyumi the first—thought it imperative that her spoilt and arrogant daughter be left to fend for herself. She had sent her to a land where she had no power, and therefore wouldn’t be waited on hand and foot, to instill some compassion and empathy in the girl.

The fact that her trip to the Other Realm had not only straightened out Queen Piyumi’s less than desirable traits, but had also produced an heir had been a shock to all but General Gwendolyn—the only one the late queen had confided in. Not even her own sister had known. The completely dumbfounded expression on the princess-general’s face had spoken volumes.

Once the initial commotion died down, the lords had come to the conclusion that it was necessary to locate and contact the child, since the Palaedian throne was customarily passed down in a linear line of succession.

And guess who General Gwendolyn thought deserving of carrying out such an extraordinary mission?

Hisa.

Her protests had been immediate. She’d asked how she, after all she had done, could be entrusted with such an important task. And she hadn’t been the only one to share that sentiment—Lord Triton’s indignant yells still echoed in her ears But General Gwendolyn had been adamant, and with the princess-general also supporting the idea, the other four lords were ultimately convinced, despite their varying degrees of reluctance.

Hisa was another story entirely, however.

“General!” she’d cried when she finally had a chance to take her mentor aside. “What are you thinking?! I couldn’t possibly—”

“Hisa,” General Gwendolyn had held up a finger to Hisa’s mouth, effectively silencing her. “You’re one of the only people in this palace I can trust with this assignment. It has to be you.”

“But General Gwendolyn after everything that’s happened, there is no way I can—”

“This is the only way I can think to protect you, Hisa! Didn’t you see them in there?! They’re calling for your head, and I can’t lose another—”

General Gwendolyn had stopped and sighed when Hisa flinched at her tone.

“If nothing else, think of this as your atonement—a way to secure your safety. You can do this, Hisa. You are smart and kind, and I’ve never seen anyone use a sword as well as you. Hassan would be so proud if he could see you now.”

Hisa could still feel the ghost of the general’s touch on her back as she nudged her forward.

“Now, go. Get ready. Train the princess in the Other Realm. Prepare her for the fight to come. I’ll send Ren over when it’s time to escort her back.”

And with that, the general had left, leaving Hisa alone with her reeling thoughts.

General Gwendolyn had been right, as she often was. Ensuring the safe passage of Her Highness to Palaedia would’ve at least cast Hisa in a more favourable light. She would become known as the one who had brought Palaedia its salvation, rather than its destruction. But she couldn’t find it in herself to think that way, especially after meeting the princess. She wanted forgiveness—Goddess, it was more like she craved it—but she knew she didn’t deserve it. Even if the world exonerated her of her sins, she didn’t think she could ever forgive herself. Just another thing to add to the long list of the reasons why she was undeniably, irrevocably—

Well, in any case, Hisa didn’t know what else to do but accept the mission thrust upon her. After all, what she thought didn’t matter. She was a knight of the Lotus Guard, and if her queen came in the form of the snoring woman in the other room, who apparently couldn’t keep a bathroom clean to save her life, then it was her duty to do whatever she could to help and protect her.

Hisa had already let one queen die on her watch. She wasn’t planning on letting another do the same.