Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
There is never much to do in a queendom constantly at war.
War was what everyone had thrown themselves into.
Princess Arundhati Shah wasn't exempted from it.
Battle was stopped from sunset to sunrise, as per the ancient rules. The battle was stopped.
The battlefield wasn't closed.
The princess was still in her armour when she snuck out of her tent to walk in the field watered by blood from generations.
She'd heard news that Villeska was bringing reinforcements. Starfell's cavalry was depleting.
Her mother had sent a missive saying that another ball would be held in a week. A ball to find allies and weed out enemies.
Ethicality wasn't a practice that nobility performed. Aru had grown up knowing that.
The moon was bright as she walked towards the Sacred Tree, placed right in the middle of the battlefield.
The first queen had died there, her feet sinking into the soil and her body forming the tree. No-one cut it out of respect for the dead.
Her soul was said to rest in the tree.
For the past three days, she was the one who would cry off the blood in her hands under the tree. For the past three days, she was alone.
Tonight, she was not.
There was a boy, her age, she guessed, with a canvas on his lap and a lone dandelion in front of him. Paints were scattered on his side, elegant hues of the darkest blue and clusters of greens.
He didn't seem to notice her footsteps until she sat beside him, knife clutched tightly in her right hand.
"Painters like you shouldn't be out here. Especially in a time like this."
His head tilted to the side as he painted the light wisps of the dandelion. "In a time like war? I was raised in war, though. And safety," he said, a frown apparent on his face, "is subjective."
Aru's eyebrows furrowed. "Whatever do you mean by the last sentence?"
He took a look at her, and when he looked away, Aru wanted to twist his head to see his face again. Starry brown eyes like a reflection of the sky and lips that looked softer than petals.
"I can't explain it." He said.
"Who even are you?" Aru asked him.
The painting of the dandelion was almost finished.
He smiled a sorrowful smile. "I'm a painter from Villeska."
The last stroke was painted. The boy stood to get up.
"What's your name?"
He looked back at her, a grin on his face. "You'll find out later. Hopefully."
