Mythe || Folkelore

⚔︎ 3 ⚔︎

I pace around the courtyard, anxiety writhing in my gut. Derek sent word with Bastien that he would be arriving to give Apollo and I a report about the war. Being so far from the fight, we've heard nothing while he's been fighting in it. Now, he's late. Really late.

On my next circuit, Apollo grabs my arm and pulls me into a hug. Running his hand up and down my back, he presses a kiss to my hair.

"Derek is fine. Have patience."

"You've known me long enough to know patience isn't one of my strong suits," I grumble. Apollo laughs, giving me one last squeeze before shifting back.

"No, no it is not. Have faith then."

I quirk a brow, and fold my arms. Within seconds, my foot starts tapping as I look around the space.

Deep black and maroon shrubs and ferns are scattered around with the intensely fragrant Flaronia flowers interspersed between. Come to think of it, it smells just like Apollo in here. A small smile touches my lips at the thought.

Just then, the loud wing beats of a dragon fill the air. Looking up, I spot Rhys descending towards the courtyard. Apollo and I move out of the way, and Derek slides off. He opens his mouth, but I cut him off.

"You're late."

"I'm sorry your Majesties, there were some... problems with getting here. It's not easy to travel through a war zone even with a dragon."

"I can imagine," Apollo chuckles, shooting me a look.

"Alright, I'll forgive it this time. Your report, Derek?"

"It's getting bad," he murmurs, his voice hoarse. "Worse than we ever imagined."

"How much worse?" I wrap my arms around my waist, and Apollo moves closer towards me.

"There's more casualties every hour." Derek sounds so emotionless. Being such an emotional Tierian, I don't know how he does it. Well, I guess my Regalia doesn't help matters.

"The numbers?" Apollo interjects.

"I don't know all the details, Your Majesty," He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. I tilt my head.

"You've got to know something at least," I counter. Derek makes eye contact with me as he purses his lips.

"I'd rather not share."

"I need to know, Derek. If not from you, I'll find someone else to tell me." Apollo sets his hand on my arm, but I shake it off. I need to know.

He pushes out a tense breath. "Hundreds," he whispers, his eyes haunted like he saw them all. "Hundreds of casualties on both sides."

"Thank you. I– what do Calypso and Enzo have to say about it?"

"They're suggesting we let the two Courts figure it out without interference. If Freya or Octavia come to ask for help, offer your condolences, but don't get involved. For any reason." Derek raises both eyebrows, the haunted look from moments ago disappearing when he sets his hands on his hips.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I ask, my voice getting high with defensiveness. Apollo clears his throat with a tremor of amusement, and I turn to glare at him. He raises his hands in surrender, and I return my attention to Derek. He attempts to hide his smile by rubbing his hands down his face and pushing aside his droopy curls.

"With your connection with the Aeryan Princess, it'd make sense you'd want to side with her Court." He pauses, giving me a warning look. "Don't."

"I won't," I insist. "Gaia has never had the best relationship with her mom, and I've never been close with her either. You have nothing to worry about."