Living Like a Mouse? How About a Lion?

A Gift Fit for a Prince

The music was nauseatingly triumphant. A royal affair, sure, but the vibe was painfully predictable: nobles smiling too wide, servants bowing too low, and everyone too focused on pretending they were having the time of their lives. The Crown Prince and the Empress had just swept into the room, and the air shifted to something unbearably reverent.

Honestly, the way they fawn over the royal family, you'd think they were being paid extra to bend their spines that low.

I sipped at my wine, watching as the prince's younger brother, the birthday boy, gave a charming smile that was as hollow as it was polite. He had a way of looking so disingenuously regal that it made my skin crawl. Meanwhile, the Empress sat poised like a statue carved from ice. Perfect. Inhuman.

Then it happened.

The grand doors swung open with a slow, ominous creak. The room hushed, every pair of eyes turning toward the entrance. Callisto strode in, cutting through the noble fluff like a blade. His presence was electric, sharp as a knife's edge—dangerous. He walked with the air of someone who could unravel the world and laugh about it.

And in his hand? A bag. A leather sack, carelessly slung over his shoulder.

This can't be good.

Without a word, Callisto marched up to the prince and dropped the bag at his feet with a resounding thud. The prince blinked in surprise, confusion flashing across his face before he reached for the bag, his fingers trembling.

The second he opened it, the color drained from his cheeks.

Gasps rippled through the crowd, and whispers erupted like wildfire. Some nobles even backed away, hands flying to their mouths in horror.

Oh, I definitely have to see this.

I craned my neck to catch a glimpse, but I didn't need to. The reactions told me everything. A severed head. Callisto had gifted his brother a severed head for his birthday.

"Happy birthday," Callisto said, his voice dripping with mockery, "just returning something I didn't need."

The prince was frozen, staring down at the gruesome 'present' as if it might jump out and bite him. Meanwhile, the Empress looked like she might faint. Nobles were in various states of shock—some were staring at Callisto in fear, others whispering amongst themselves.

Well, this banquet just got interesting.

Without waiting for any more reaction, Callisto turned on his heel and started striding out of the room. The whole ballroom was frozen, too afraid to even breathe, let alone stop him. I watched him go, a grin tugging at the corner of my lips.

This is it.

I slipped through the crowd, making my way to the door. The opportunity was too perfect. Callisto might have been the Crown Prince, but he was also something much more dangerous—a wild card. And if there was anyone who might just understand the depth of my own madness, it was him.

I followed him out into the cool night air, stepping into the garden. The quiet contrasted starkly with the chaos I'd just left behind. The moonlight bathed everything in a silver glow, and there, standing by the fountain, was Callisto. But something was off—his posture was tense, his head turning slightly, almost as if...

Before I could register what was happening, I felt the cold press of steel against my throat. Callisto had moved faster than I expected. He was already behind me, his sword drawn and the sharp edge just barely touching my skin.

Well, this escalated quickly.

"Who sent you?" His voice was low, calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it.

I let out a soft chuckle, despite the sword at my throat. "Sent me? Callisto, please. If I were sent, don't you think I'd have picked a better moment to approach you?"

For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then, slowly, the pressure of the blade eased. Callisto stepped back, but he didn't sheathe his sword. He was still on edge, his eyes scanning the surroundings. Always careful. Always calculating.

I turned to face him, rubbing my neck lightly where the cold steel had been. "Dramatic entrance, by the way. Really gave the party some life."

His eyes flicked back to mine, and he smirked, though his grip on his sword remained firm. "You follow me just to give a compliment?"

"No," I said, meeting his gaze with a smirk of my own. "I followed you because I think we have something in common."

Callisto raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "And what would that be?"

"Madness," I replied simply, holding his gaze. "We both know we don't fit into this world of theirs. And, frankly, I'm tired of pretending."

His smirk deepened, though his eyes remained guarded. He studied me for a moment, and for a second, I could see the wheels turning in his head. He was still on edge, cautious, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.

"Pretending, huh?" he said, his tone light but edged with something darker. "So, what? You're here to offer me some sort of... alliance?"

I shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted to see what happens when two mad dogs cross paths."

Callisto's eyes narrowed slightly, and I could feel the weight of his scrutiny. Then, with a sudden, almost predatory smile, he finally lowered his sword, sliding it back into its sheath.

"You're either very brave or very stupid, Penelope," he said, his voice a low, dangerous murmur. "Following me like this."

I smiled back, unbothered by the threat in his tone. "Maybe a bit of both."

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The tension between us hung thick in the air, but it wasn't the kind of tension that came from fear. It was something else—something electric, like a spark just waiting for fuel to ignite it.

"I want out," I said, breaking the silence. "Out of this family, out of this life."

Callisto's expression shifted slightly, the amusement fading just a little as he regarded me more seriously. "And you think I can help with that?"

"I think," I said slowly, "that you're the only one who can."

For a moment, he just stared at me, and I could see the gears turning in his head again. Then, with a low chuckle, he shook his head and turned away, walking toward the edge of the garden.

"Find me when you're done playing noble," he called over his shoulder.

I watched him go, my mind racing. His words echoed in my ears.

Done playing noble?

A slow smile spread across my face.

Maybe I'm already done.