Mythe || Folkelore

⚔︎ Prologue ⚔︎

Mother motions for me to take a seat at her feet. I settle down with my back to her, closing my eyes as she gently brushes my hair.

"Mother, won't you tell me a story?"

Mother chuckles, setting aside the brush to begin braiding my hair. "Every night, Calla? I'm going to run out of stories!"

"Not possible, Mother. You have hundreds of stories."

"Alright, alright. I guess that's true. What story do you want tonight?"

"The one about Extier! And the humans!"

"Calla," she laughs. "I told you that one last night."

I pout, I was hoping she wouldn't notice. "It's my favorite."

"It's my favorite too." Tying off the braid, she scoops me into her lap. "Now, do you remember how it starts?"

I nod, tucking my head under her chin. "The Gods were bored."

"Not quite," she corrects. "They needed a legacy. So they created a new creature. And that creature was—"

"The mortals!" I cry.

"Yes, The Gods created the mortals and a large world for them to live in. These ignorant and vulnerable mortals refused the help of The Gods despite their suffering. And so, The Gods created a second creature: The Shamans. Not quite God, but not quite mortal either. The mortals accepted these new creatures, and The Gods had access to their creatures."

"But then Felicienne had to go and ruin it," I interrupt with a scowl.

"Are you telling the story or am I?" Mother asks, tickling my sides. I squeal, wiggling out of the way of her hands.

"You are! You are!"

"Alright then, let me tell it. Everything went fine, until like you said, Felicienne fell in love with a mortal man. Together, they had a child. While it looked like the mortal father, it had Felicienne's eyes. The Gods and Felicienne thought nothing of it until the child grew older and started to have abilities like the Shaman. What happened then, my dear?"

"All the Shamans wanted kids," I grumble.

"That's right. There were halflings everywhere! The Gods were not happy, so they punished the Shamans. The Shamans were trapped between worlds and their precious children were separated from the mortals in a world of their own. Extier."

"But The Gods were weak."

Mother laughs, squeezing me against her chest. "You're not wrong, darling. The Gods took pity on their children, the Shamans. Allowing them to visit the worlds once every hundred years."

"Folkecrest!"

"That's right, my love. Folkecrest is when we celebrate the mercy of The Gods and the return of the Shamans."

Wrapping my arms around my waist, I shiver. The early morning air is chilly today. That's odd.

    "Princess?" Apollo asks, stepping up beside me on the balcony. "I mean My Queen."

I snicker, elbowing him in the ribs. "Calla is just fine, Apollo."

"No, it's not. Husbands always have a cute nickname for their wife." He raises his eyebrows, challenging me to differ. I scoff, folding my arms. I never back down from a challenge, and he knows it.

"I don't think I've ever heard King Blackwell call Queen Esarosa a cute nickname." There. Beat that.

Apollo gasps, bringing a hand to chest like it physically pained him to hear that. "My father always called my mother his diamond. She was also never seen without tons of diamonds, but that's besides the point. I need a new nickname to call my wife, since I can't call you Princess anymore."

I roll my eyes and bite my tongue. There's no way I'm telling him that I adore it when he calls me love. I just can't. It would change everything between us.

"You have an idea," Apollo coaxed triumphantly. "What is it?"

I freeze, heat traveling at an astounding speed to my cheeks. How did he know? "Oh, um, sunshine?"

"Hmm," He hums, rubbing his chin as he gives it a great deal of thought. "Not quite right." His golden eyes roave my face like he'll find the answer there. I keep my gaze on his, trying to calm my racing heart. When did this stop being friendly banter?

Finally, Apollo's face lights up, and he snaps his fingers. The change takes my breath away. Goodness, he's too handsome for his own good. "Angel."

"What?" I ask, the random word bouncing around my head.

Apollo gives me a knowing smirk. He can't possibly know where my thoughts were leading. "I'll call you my angel."

The dots connect. "Because of my wings."

"Exactly!" He exclaims. "And then that one time you pulled me out of the well."

"Right," I mumble, ducking my head. Angel is almost worse than love. But I'll manage. I always do. "Did you have something you were going to say before you got distracted with a nickname?"

"Ah, yes, I did." I watch, eyes narrowed as Apollo tries to suppress a grin. He fails, of course, and to my surprise, steps closer. "You looked very deep in thought moments ago. Care to share?"

I sigh, looking back over my Court. "I was thinking about how Extier came to be." My eyebrows lower. "Isn't Folkecrest coming up?"

Apollo nods, rocking onto his heels. "Yes, I believe it is."

I think for a moment, before gasping. "Loam is to host the festival this year. I'm sure of it."

"Will there even be a festival? There was an attack on the Sclian Palace recently."

"You heard the High Queen. This is between Aero and Scle. Everything is to carry on as usual."

"That's a bad move, and you know it," Apollo huffs. Turning, I move towards the door to the Palace.

"Yes, but who am I against the High Queen?"

A/N: Oooooooh the history of Extier!! Finally. (doesn't mention that I didn't figure it all out until just before writing this chapter) And Folkecrest is still going despite the war? Anyone think that's a bad idea? Other thoughts? ------------->