Scarlet Winter

The twenty-four-year-old King stares into the mirror, his eyes narrowing as he looks at himself, wearing Castelon’s colors, navy blue and gold. His eyes flick to the icy sea through the reflected window. 

Percival remembers a day much like this, the day he became next in line. His eyes bore into the snow ahead as the memory replays.

He swallowed and looked at his sister. “Are you sure we should be out here? Patér said this is the worst winter he’s seen.”

Princess Gaia smiled at her little brother. “You’re such a worrier, frater. Twelve-year-olds shouldn’t be so worried. Letum will take you early for such things.”

Percival huffed and crossed his arms. “He will take us early for disobeying patér!”

His sister laughed and reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “Fine, go ahead inside if you’re so scared, Percival.”

He frowned at her words. “I’m not leaving you, Gaia.”

She giggled and took off running. “Race you to the lake,” she shouted over her shoulder with a wicked grin. It was a tradition every winter to race to the lake and make a winter wish. 

His eyes widened before his legs started moving.

As they approached the lake, he was only losing by five feet. Gaia looked behind her to smirk at her brother. Percival’s eyes landed on the lake, where he was surprised to see it frozen – it never froze. “Gaia, stop! It’s frozen!”

But she tripped as she whirled back around. Her head hit the ice as her body slid across the burgeoning cracks.

His heart pounded in his ears as he came to a stop at the edge of the lake. “Gaia! Gaia!” Words were flowing from her lips but he couldn’t understand. “Just…just wait, Gaia! I’ll be there in a moment.”

His eyes scanned the cracks in the ice, now scarlet in places from the Princess’ blood. Try as he could, it was impossible to think with the sound of his heart pounding, so he closed his eyes. “Hurry up, idiot,” he muttered to himself.

Taking a deep breath, he opened his tearful eyes and carefully stepped onto the lake where there were fewer cracks. The sound of the ice crunching beneath his feet slowed his steps.

“Percival…” her voice whispered weakly.

He glanced up from the ice to see his sister struggling to move, the cracks growing around her. “No, Gaia, don’t - “

But her body plunged beneath the icy depths of the lake. Percival cried out and ran forward, slipping and cutting his chin on the sharp edge of the area that swallowed her. His fingers frantically searched the icy waters to no avail.

The King forces the memory away, his eyes landing on The Shadow Sea in the distance. The sea where Gaia’s body washed up weeks later. Percival runs a finger across the scar on his chin, watching himself in the mirror. A reminder of what should’ve been.

He’s been ruling Castelon on his own for three years, and for the last seven months, he’d felt the weight of loneliness for the first time.

He’d laid his father to rest two years ago and more recently, his mother. With his parents gone, he had no one to seek advice from. No one to share the burden of the crown with.

No one.

Percival turns away from the shell image in the mirror and begins walking toward the door. He’s expected to be in the city of Apamea by dusk, and he’s already wasted too much time pitying himself. Apamea was a stronghold in Percival’s kingdom. Tomorrow a feast is being held in honor of Lord Damaskinos’ years of loyal service, a celebration of the peace he had maintained in a region once plagued by unrest. Nobles and commanders from across Castelon would attend, raising their cups in camaraderie and making their alliances known.

The cool air of the castle hallway wraps itself around the King as he makes his way toward the stables, where he finds Sir Quintus waiting. “Your Majesty,” the Knight says, as he bows.

Percival smiles as best he can. “Hello, Q. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long?”

The Knight chuckles. “By the gods, my King. Haven’t I told you not to worry about me? I’d much rather delay this trip. I’m not looking forward to the long ride with Robin. He never knows when to shut up.”

The King laughs as he mounts his horse, Soteira. “Robin means well, Q.” The Knight only responds with a grunt as he rides out of the stables at the King’s side.

Percival pulls his fur cloak closer as the snow pours down around them. His eyes land on the shortest person in the group of seventy.

“There you are, Your Majesty! I prayed that the gods deliver you and they did! Just now!”

“Apologies, Robin. I’m ready to go.”

Robin shakes his head up and down furiously before clapping his hands to draw the attention of the Knights. “Mount up!”

A few minutes later the group is on the snow-laden road to Apamea. Seventeen Knights ride in front of the King and the other fifty behind. Robin and Quintus are at his side discussing the schedule for tomorrow. A mostly one-sided conversation due to the Knight’s main contribution ranging between sighs and grunts.

“Did you hear me, Your Majesty?”

Percival was drawn out of his hazy thoughts and turned to his friend. “Hmm? Apologies, Robin.”

Robin laughs softly. “That’s alright, I was just mentioning that all four of Lord Damaskinos’ children will be at Apamea. You’ve only met Dimitris, correct?”

“Yes,” Percival confirms. “He’s an…interesting character.”

Sir Quintus snorts. “High praise, Your Majesty.”

“What more can I say? He talks very little but listens quite a bit.”

The Knight sighs and glances at Robin. “How I wish more people were of that sort.”

Robin nods his head. “Indeed. People are draining. Aren't they? I yearn for quiet.”

Quintus narrows his eyes and opens his mouth but is cut off by the King’s redirection. “Agreed, friends. Now, back to the topic at hand…”

The King’s group rides on until they arrive at Apamea, the snow on the high walls of its fort glistening in the moonlight. They stop in front of the opening gate to wait.

A small group, helmed by Dimitris, steps out. “Welcome, Your Majesty. It is late and I’m sure you are tired. Please follow me inside, where sleep awaits us all.”

A bitter sleep of icy dreams welcomes Percival shortly after.

And though he did not know it when he awoke that morning, it would be the day his heart would feel its first taste of comfort in a long time.

Lord Damaskinos came to a stop atop the fort’s wall, overlooking the interior. Percival stopped as well and turned to the expectant Lord.

“Well, Your Majesty? What do you think of the fort and its soldiers? And of the town outside?”

The King smiled. “Impressive, Lord Damaskinos. Well maintained. Eastern Castelon is well protected under your care.”

The Lord bows. “Thank you, Your Majesty. It is an honor to hear such words. I pride myself on the safety of those under my care.”

Percival nods and turns his gaze outward, prepared to ask about the most recent news from their allies in the East. But every diplomatic thought flies from his mind when his eyes land on a woman watching the waves of the sea, the breeze flowing through her hair.

Lovely. Divine. I must know her name.

Percival clears his throat and looks back to the Lord. “That woman…”

Lord Damaskinos follows the King’s eyesight before attempting to hide a smile. “My dear daughter, Vivian, Your Majesty.”

“Vivian,” Percival says, enjoying the sound of her name on his lips. As if guided by Aurora herself, Vivian’s eyes turn to the King. Her brow furrows as she meets his gaze, her fingers curling around the edge of her scarlet scarf. It sends his pulse on a sprint and for a moment, he forgets to breathe.

“Would you like an introduction? I was going to introduce you at the feast later, but we’re finished with the tour.”

Percival shifts his gaze away from the beautiful woman and turns to her father. He nods, hoping his words will find their way back to him before he reaches her presence.

Vivian masks her curiosity as she watches from the corner of her eye as her father and King approach. She’d seen him arrive after dusk as she hid in the shadows. Dimitri was bitter that his father had made him stay up and wait for the King and his convoy. And his curt greeting had shown it. She wondered why the King had not called her brother out. She would’ve if she were Queen.

A clearing of the throat brings her back to the present and she turns to face them, dropping into a curtsy.

“Patèr, Your Majesty,” she greets, tone questioning.

Lord Damaskinos grins at his daughter. “Vivian, the King was quite eager to meet you.”

Percival’s eyes widen before he pushes his surprise away. Vivian smirks as she looks at him. “Was he now? Well, I wouldn’t want to disappoint,” she says as she places her hand out.

But it’s her turn to be surprised, for he does not offer a kiss, only a gentle grasping with his cold hands. She swallows and stares at their hands.

“Something tells me you’ve never delivered disappointment in your life,” he tells her.

Vivian tilts her head to the side, studying him. He was not what she expected. But she isn’t even sure what she expected. How can she be sure of anything but the feeling of her pulse quickening while his hands still clutch hers?

He smiles and releases her hand. “I should prepare for the feast, but I’ll make haste in hopes of seeing you again, Lady Vivian.”

She wrings her hands together and glances away at the sea. “See that you do, my King. I am not a patient woman.”

And with that, she hears two sets of feet crunch under the snow. Finally, she lets out a breath that she hadn’t realized she was holding. The feast could not come soon enough, she thought as she watched the distant sun.

Percival believed it came too soon.

“Everything alright, Your Majesty? We were expected thirty minutes ago.”

He turns to the door, eyes landing on Robin. “No, it’s not.”

Robin’s face falls and he moves closer. “What’s wrong?”

The King groans. “I can’t decide which shirt looks better!”

Robin stares at the King for a moment before speaking. “You’ve never cared about clothes before if you don’t mind me saying…”

Percival turns away. “I do mind,” he grumbles.

Robin bites his lip to contain a chuckle. The King had mentioned Vivian as soon as he’d returned earlier. Surely this wasn’t a coincidence.

“Alright, apologies, Your Majesty. Wear the navy one with the gold embellishments.”

Percival quickly changes before heading to the feast. Excited voices quiet upon his entrance. Hundreds of eyes watching him. Waiting for him to speak.

And so he says the only thing he can think of.

“First person to supply me with wine gets to name my firstborn,” he exclaims.

It’s quiet. And then there’s laughter. And running. Spilled wine. Finally, a cool glass reaches his fingers. He sighs in relief. He wasn’t sure why he said that. But all is well, so he moves toward his seat at the main table.

Lord Damaskinos grins at his arrival. “I hope my cousin gave you the good wine.”

Percival takes a sip and smiles. “Well earned indeed.”

It’s not long until the feast is in full swing. But Percival finds himself spending less time talking and more time glancing at Vivian as the night progresses.

She can feel his gaze. And it makes her feel…something. Unexpected. Something unexpected. And as she leans against the balcony, she frowns at that thought. She had not accounted for this scenario. And that scared her.

“Drachma for your thoughts?”

Vivian freezes for a moment before meeting his eyes. She snatches the coin from his fingers. “No,” she says.

He nods and turns his gaze to the sea. “Alright,” he replies.

“Alright?”

“Why so surprised?”

“I stole your coin and you’re fine with nothing in return? I doubt it.”

He chuckles softly, the sound like a new frequency for her erratic heart. “I have plenty more. But thoughts? We only have so much to ourselves in this world. I respect your desire to keep them close.”

Vivian doesn’t reply for a while and they watch the waves in silence.

“You stir something unknown in me, Your Majesty. And yet I feel the desire to embrace it,” she whispers. 

Percival turns toward her, brushing the snowflakes from her cheeks. “I was late because I wanted to pick the right shirt. So you would…think that I look nice.”

They stare at each other and she laughs before he joins in. “That is quite ridiculous,” she tells him.

He sighs. “Yes, well…”

“But you do look nice. Very handsome, Your Majesty.”

“Percival.”

“Percival…very handsome, Percival.”

He grins and she slaps his shoulder. “I can see it going to your head already!”

“Let me even the odds,” he replies, leaning in a little closer. “You are lovely, and divine, and beautiful, and…”

“And?”

The doors of the balcony open and Sir Quintus steps out, bowing. “Please excuse my intrusion, Your Majesty. A rider from the castle has arrived. We must return. Now.”

The King nods and turns back to Vivian with a regretful smile. “And so I must go. Stay well, Vivian,” he says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

She swallows and nods. “You as well, Percival.”

Her lips speaking his name almost cause his feet to falter but he continues, as duty requires of him.

Continues until it’s time to mount his horse.

But he can’t. He can’t leave without taking a risk and speaking his wish aloud.

Perceval turns away and sprints toward the door, swinging it open to find Vivian. She’d been watching him prepare to leave. Her eyes widen as he stops close enough for her to feel his warmth.

He takes her soft hand in his, placing it over his heart. “Do you feel that, Vivian? How my heart yearns for you? How it begs for me to earn your love?”

She could not find words at that moment but her lips parted. And she wanted him to kiss her. As absurd and inappropriate as the thought was - she wanted it still. 

But he didn't. He only smiled for a second before stepping back. 

"Wait for me...that is my wish....but only if you wish it, too," he said, eyes searching hers. 

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his. With the assurance that his wish would come true, Percival quickly mounted his horse and rode toward the castle. 

Vivian watched with a longing she had never known, and her own wish: that he hurry back.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

Percival rode hard through the night, his men quiet and resolute around him, weariness wrapped around his heart and body.

The news had been urgent—an assassination attempt at the castle, an enemy blade meant for him piercing his steward instead. The threat was neutralized, the conspirators scattered, but his mind had been elsewhere.

On Vivian. 

It has been a mere three days since he’d seen her. He had told her to wait for him, but waiting had never been his strong suit. The King was quick to mount his horse and take off to the woman he had left. And though their meeting had been brief, the feeling deep inside his heart was not fleeting. 

Now, as the moon cast long silver shadows over Apamea’s walls, he found himself outside the Damaskinos stronghold once more. He dismounted, his breath visible in the air, and made his way toward the sea-facing balcony where he had last seen her.

And she was there. 

Standing alone, wrapped in a scarlet lined fur cloak, staring at the waves like she had that first night. He watched her for a moment, admiring the way strands of her hair flowed around her face. 

“Vivian,” he called softly. 

She turned, startled, eyes wide with something unreadable—relief, surprise, maybe even disbelief. “Percival?”

He crossed the space between them, stopping just before her, suddenly uncertain. What if she had changed her mind? What if she regretted waiting? What if this intense feeling was not reciprocated?

You came back,” she breathed, searching his face as if it was a lighthouse in a storm. 

“I—” He faltered, then shook his head. “Of course I did. I never should have left at all.”

Vivian studied him, her lips parting as if she might speak, but instead, she reached forward, pressing her hand to his chest—right over his heart. His own hand rose instinctively to cover hers.

“You’re cold,” she murmured.

“I have been,” he admitted. “Since the moment I left you.”

The distance between them closed, the warmth of her presence thawing something inside him that had long been frozen. And this time, he did not hesitate.

He kissed her. His other hand snaked around, tangling gently into her hair, holding her with a tender warmth that chased away the iciness of the world. 

The sea raged below them, the stars burned above, and for the first time in years, Percival did not feel alone.

Not anymore.