𝐒𝐄𝐀 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵖⁱᵉᶜᵉ

I. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐚

AS FATE would have it, the island of Oetia had been so shrouded in the overgrown greenery of myth and legend that any tall tale could eventually be seen as fact with a simple pen stroke in the people's history books. It wasn't hard in such a place when even the isolated nature of Oetia was an epic, filled with glorious gods that had devoted themselves to saving Oetians from the dangers of the Grand Line. These gods kept the Oetians happy: they kept their harvests bountiful, swept danger away in the waves, and ensured peace throughout the island. No myth had failed them yet, so they had just become part of normalcy—even Helle's.

You let her name simmer in the forefront of your thoughts, let the wind around you sweep it back and forth like the bow of a fiddle, making melodies out of your synapses. Helle, Helle, Helle, Helle, Helle, Helle, Helle. Helle, queen of the sea, ancient princess of Oetia. You wished her to you, hoping today would be the day she answered your prayers. You hoped she could feel the ache in your knuckles and the tightness in your fingers each time you clasped your hands together. You hoped she could see how close you pulled your hands to your chest as if you were desperately trying to push it into the cavity of your chest.

But just as always, she didn't respond.

"May Hellespont be merciful." The words tiptoed on the whisper of your breath, leaving as soon as they came. You let your eyes flutter open, allowing their heaviness to be swept away with the sea breeze. In the shelter of Helle's shrine, you looked out upon the Hellespont Sea, its waves so tranquil it made the ocean just beyond the jagged rocks appear vicious. You watched it silently, fingers still clasped tight, your knees aching against the ceramic tile. Your joints screamed for a reprieve, but you wished them silent and stared out into the endless expanse of blue.

Somewhere out there, on islands that were part of the seven routes on the Grand Line, were people— no, devils. Vicious men and women with powers stolen from the gods, seizors of prosperity. Monsters. It was a miracle that none of the men and women who had come to Oetia in its early days were like them long before the self-proclaimed king of those monsters had caused havoc for the dwellers of the Grand Line. You drew your eyes away from the ocean and instead to the clear waters of Hellespont that oscillated against the rocks, too curious of what was beyond. Still, it would never cross over, and neither would you.

You pulled your gaze back to Helle's statue, almost glowing in the beginnings of sunlight. She stood in front of you, reaching for the sky, desperate. You didn't want to think of her myth today, so you messed with the long, light blue, almost white dress you were made to wear every morning instead. Not that you could complain about it, no, that was anything but princess-like. Somewhere behind you, you could hear the faint, hurried calls of your lady-in-waiting, Nasia. You prepared your smile and glanced at the fresco-painted gods above you, who stared back with cold eyes.

"M-My lady! My apologies-" You turned to meet Nasia, red-faced as she rushed toward you with her dress pulled up to her knees. She was frantic, her sharp breaths making it harder for her to utter any words past the ones she had already said. You held back a laugh but kept a graceful smile to save face. The last thing you wanted to do was embarrass her, and you had the feeling that with a few words, you wouldn't have to worry about that.