Princess and Her Matra | Cyno

Act I

The King spoke to his council. All while you observed, the only thing you could really do.

In the throne room were two towering seats, decked in gold and colorful gems. At least one of them were. The smaller one, occupied by you, was more plain.

All of the King's messengers stood in front of the steps, organized like as if there was an elongated table.

"My King," bowed one man, "I for one believe not in entrusting Princess (Name) to the Prince of Avidya. They do not trust us, evident by closing off flowing streams from their forests. They mean to dry us until we die of thirst! How can we trust them to not forsaken the Setekh?"

The old King combed through his beard. A long sigh escaped his lips. "I do not. But I cannot allow my people to suffer from dehydration any longer. The only natural source is the spring that resides in the center."

You winced, hearing the discussion. You never liked grave topics. Your eyes shifted to a guard standing on the side by the sandstone pillars.

His amber hues lit up upon eye-contact, only a little but it was there. You gave him an exasperated smile, leaning your head on your hand. He simply huffed, the corners of his own lips twitching up.

"My King, with all due respect, does it not appear suspicious? What would the Avidyan Prince truly want from this arrangement? Surely, 'a wife for the Prince' is too simple and illogical of a reason for them to suddenly want to repair relations after years of distrust."

"I heard you." The King only raised his palm to stop. "But my decision is final: my daughter will be married to this Prince in two weeks' time. If the case of betrayal ever arrived, I trust my General and the Matra will handle our guests swiftly." The old King sent a nod.

Cyno blinked away from your eyes to return one to your Father.

"Hold on–." You furrowed your brows.

"(Name)." The King's voice became stern. "I understand your reservations, my child. However, I expect you to–."

"Place the Setekh above myself, I am well aware." Your shoulders dropped while curling up your fists. "I cannot believe this," you scoffed. You found yourself tapping harshly on your throne's armrest. "I shall be in the Royal Garden instead, Father."

The King's eyes saddened and sighed. You quickly stood and stormed right out of the throne room. The council, distracted by plans for the upcoming engagement, did not notice your hasty disappearance.

Of course, there had been one man.

The General Mahamatra trailed you from behind, holding a partisan. He wore a Hermanubis headdress, a shape of a jackal, signifying his high ranking and head of the Setekhan Military's Royal Branch, the Matra. His face adorn in red powder marks, while his uniform dressed in black and gold. A lot of his skin, he left bare, for the desert heat never took kindly to those covered.

"Leave me alone, General."

The young man raised an eyebrow. "I'm afraid I cannot do that, Your Highness."

"I need time to myself, General."

No word.

"That is an order from your Princess," you scowled, pausing in your tracks to face the General Mahamatra.

"My King's one order is to guard you at any time. I'm afraid his word overshadows yours, Your Highness."

You only frowned and turned away to continue striding.

Suddenly, a polearm swung in front of you, halting you.

"You were feet away just moments ago."

"I wouldn't have been your bodyguard if I am not quick on my 'feet.'" He smirked. You tried to hold a deadpanned expression, but your lips cracked into a small smile the longer your eyes held contact. You waved him off. "Sometimes I do not know what to do with you."

You gazed down and frowned again. "Of course, even if I do, you would not listen to me while Father is here, would you." You pushed Cyno's partisan aside, making his playfulness falter. "Hold on–." He sighed. "I don't truly mean that, Your Highness." He jogged up to stay beside you. "Your word is my command. I always intend myself to protect you, regardless of the circumstances."

"Mm."

"You're aware I would never betray you, honest."

"Mm."

"Not for my King himself."

"Mm."

Cyno sulked, nearly lagging behind you.

It felt uncharacteristic of the Mahamatra, but you remembered the kind of person he became when a card game showed up here and there. An entire other person, you thought. Truth be told: you gave into his– you admit– endearing behavior. "Enough of that, my General." Your hand traced along his jaw as you hastened your stroll past. "Hurry along."

A glint gleamed in his eyes. You did not glance back at him, yet you already regretted that.

"What's the matter? Is a 'hurry-cane' arriving?"

"It's the Setekh. Hurricanes only appear in the Avidya."

"What?" Cyno huffed. "You don't understand? The joke is–."

"Shush-shush-shush." Your finger landed on his lips before he could continue. "I assure you time and time again, General: jokes are only clever when you leave the explanations out."

You and the General reached the greenhouse, a wide glass dome inhabited by many desert plants and color-popping flowers. A few butterflies in golden-like wings flew by. You smiled upon the sight, taking in how the light hit each plant just right.

You sighed. "I only wonder what will become of this place once I marry." The thoughts ran in your head. For all you could imagine, you may move to the Avidya, making this your final chance of seeing desert wildlife. Or the Avidya could be plotting the downfall of the Setekh with your marriage, leaving the beauties alone to die.

Your eyes caught a withered goldpoppy, brown and shriveled. You stepped forth, hands gently caressing its petals. A faint glow could be seen before the flower returned to its youth.

"General," you called. Immediately, he stood by your side. He tried to meet your eyes, but you only paid attention to the poppy. "Would you.. still protect me, even when I'm married off into another kingdom?"

He gave it a second, glancing from the poppy to your face. "Cyno," he spoke in a gentler tone. Much different from his serious usual.

Your eyes flickered to his, being caught off guard.

"I told you to call me 'Cyno,' Your Highness." He gathered your hands and lifted them to his lips, placing a kiss. "In the same way as how I assured you of my intentions to protect you, no matter what."

You blinked.

In the silent moments that passed, a rosy blush crept his face. The General Mahamatra himself turned away in embarrassment, clearing up his throat.

Your eyes softened.

"Thank you, Cyno." In contrast, you reacted with a sheepish smile. "With the wedding arriving in two weeks, I doubt my Father would be happy to hear or see this, but perhaps behind closed doors," your voice trailed off.

He creased his brows. "'See–?'"

On your toes, you pulled Cyno's head and crashed your lips into his. His eyes widened in shock. For someone as stoic and straight-faced as him, someone who was an intimidating general, the General Mahamatra had an easy time becoming awfully flustered.

"You can also call me, (Name)."