Once Upon A Time, In A World Not (Much) Unlike Our Own

There was a knock outside the study’s door, and the princess lifted her weary gaze to meet the soldier on the other side. It’s barely daylight, she knows no one in the kingdom slept well the previous night —not with the threat of attack imminent. Lieutenant Enzo settled his weight on his good leg, nodding in greeting.

“The Captain is here, milady.”

The princess worked to keep her breathing steady on her lone journey to the entryway. She hadn’t negotiated with him directly but communicated through messengers. Contact between a royal official and a rogue pirate was greatly frowned upon. Alas, he was her only hope, her last wretched hope. Muttering a silent prayer, the princess turned from the hall and started down the staircase, heart in her throat. She refused to meet his eyes until she was almost eye level with him. She told herself she was only addressing a subordinate, a military consultant — not someone who used to hold her entire heart in the palm of his hand. 

She doesn’t know what she expected from him, but indifference wasn’t it. His raven hair had grown out and was pulled into a knot behind his head, a string of pearls haphazardly woven in. His inky black eyes reflected brightly throughout the room and for the briefest moment, she was snapped into the past, merely meeting with her oldest friend on a sunny spring day, on the same steps he waited for her every single time. His eyes narrowed icily at her, and she’s shoved into the harsh present of tense silence, smoke, and ash. The princess blinked back any tears that dared to escape and swallowed harshly, pushing four years of questions down into her uneasy stomach where they belonged.

“Captain Vandryk,” she starts, and is impressed with the passiveness of her voice, “I trust you have fulfilled your commission?”

He only nods and reaches behind his sidearm, carefully extending the longsword towards her. The shoulder of the blade was intricately engraved with the head of a dragon, its mouth craned open in what she imagines to be an ear-splitting roar, shaking the very earth beneath it. The entirety of the beast is engraved in gleaming silver; its wings extend down across the guard while the body follows the path of the hilt, the tail coiled around the pommel. Its scales are intricate and complex, twisting in perfect complex patterns from the tip of the behemoth’s teeth to the very point of his tail. She turns the —mysteriously near-weightless— weapon in her hand, eyes catching on the dragon’s gaze. Embedded in the sockets of this dragon are gems. Before the war, living in the palace in a time of prosperity, the princess saw quite an array of beautiful gems. But these were completely unfamiliar. 

He catches the curiosity in her stare and starts to explain, “We have no idea what the eyes are carved from. Rumors claim it to be anything from a synthetic material designed in the Mercurial District, to something mystical sent from the stars to assist the helpless mortals. There are no conclusive reports.”

His voice is not what she remembered it to be —it must be how ridiculously aloof it is. She glances up, somewhat disappointed to find his unfeeling expression hasn’t changed. Reminding herself of the incredible significance of this meeting, she gives the Captain a genuine smile. Not her oldest friend, just the Captain. She extends her hand, feeling hopeful for the first time in quite a while.

“Thank you, sir. The kingdom of Acanthia as a whole is indebted to you and your crew. Now, we are finally able to end Odis tyranny and restore peace not only to us but to our allies as well. I will personally see to it the charges of treason against you are dropped. You are a free man, Captain Vandryk, you may return to your ship anytime you wish."

Something akin to defeat washes over his face for a moment before it returned to that blank, unfeeling slate. Stone-faced, he reached out and shook her hand once before letting his palm drop to his pants leg, like he’s trying to wipe off her touch. Sighing, she inclines her head respectfully, “Now if you will excuse me, Captain. I have a battle to prepare for.” 

The walk up the stairs in silent, arduously so. She is glad he is leaving again. As the commander and future ruler of this kingdom, she can afford no distractions. Neither can her people. She was so caught up in their reunion she almost completely lost sight of its purpose!

“Commander Griey!” 

While muffled, there’s no doubt it’s Teo, yelling as he barrels through the grand hall doors. She hastens to meet him on the stairway, peeved the Captain hasn’t made any move to return to his ship. The soldiers erratic, labored breathing, along with the feverish panic in wide, frantic eyes does nothing to settle the princesses' nerves. 

“What’s wrong, Teo?”

He salutes, fingers trembling as they drop to parade rest, “scouts have just informed us that Odis is en route to Acanthia.”

“How many men?” Enzo materializes at her left, cutting Captain Vandryk out of her peripheral. 

Teo shifts uneasily, “Alone on horseback, sir. No weapons.”

Enzo scoffs, or guffaws, she isn’t sure. She knows Odis to be a manipulative, cryptic a man, so she directs her thoughts to the most next most logical question, “How much time do we have?”

Teo’s next words were cut off by a thunderous blast that shook the already crumbling castle to its core. The princess stumbled to the side, clutching her blaster tightly. Then a dozen things happened at once. Windows splintered and exploded, shards of glass like minuscule daggers zipping through the air. Statues danced and leaned in a drunken dance before crashing to pieces. Precariously, the grand chandelier above them swings and chimes. The staircase begins to collapse beneath them.

She yanks the chainmail on Teo’s chest, propelling him upwards to join Enzo on the landing. She briefly catches the Captain’s coat out of the corner of her eye, assuming he’s following them. Her eyes scan the first floor for other soldiers caught in the blast, but the marble she’s standing on gives way, crashing to the ruined tile below. The princess is free-falling, brain short-circuiting with a gasp as every muscle locks up to brace for impact when she’s yanked backward.

Pop!

Her shoulder dislocates as she’s saved from being an addition to the mangled heap of rubble and she groans, hissing at the blooming pain. The dizzying, quaking chaos vanishes to nothing but clouds of dust just as quickly as it came. Suspended above the desecrated grand hall, she isn’t surprised to find Captain Vandryk’s vice grip circled around her wrist, petrified onyx eyes staring into hers. Blood on his face, the glass nicked him. He makes quick work of lifting her onto the second floor, aggravating the awkwardly extended muscles. Thankfully, it requires all of three seconds for Enzo to push the joint into place. The princess flops elegantly onto her back, feet dangling over the edge. She hears Enzo grumble something like, ‘the blasted third time.’ Meeting the Captain’s gaze beside her, she opens her mouth to thank him, assure him she is fine.

This time, unbearable heat sears through the gaping hole in the palace wall, coupled with an ear-splitting, deafening shriek. Scrambling backward, away from the raging flames, she orders them to follow her, bolting through the heavy doors to her study and slinging them shut just as the fire roars past. It’s a small victory, one that won’t last long, as smoke starts to slink under the door. No cannon could have possibly produced a blow like that --and the fire? The princess is at a loss. A fearful sweat breaks out across her forehead, a dreadful cold scrapes up her spine and locks around her windpipe. She has no idea what they’re up against. 

But, she contemplates the loyal soldiers before her, Enzo’s injuries, Teo’s unceasing panic, and comes to a decision, “Enzo,” he stands at attention, “Whatever Odis has planned, I want you no part of it. Tell your men to evacuate the castle grounds.”

She expects his horrified reaction, “But Commander,”

“No,” she warns lowly, blood beginning to boil, “We’ve lost too many good men to this sick heretic. That is a direct order. I’m handling this alone.”

Of course, they protest, profusely, until Caine interjects, “Evie,” he ancient nickname rattling her, “I’m going with you.”

His tone leaves no room for discussion, and Princess Evangeline has no authority over a civilian. 

“Very well,” she concedes. 

The two soldiers swiftly exit the room, begrudgingly following orders. Smoke from the lingering flames pours through the now open doors. Evangeline coughs up her lungs, she’s sure. She steps in the same direction, but like quicksilver, the Captain winds his arms so tightly around her frame she really can’t breathe. Then his lips are pressed against the side of her head, just above her ear. Softly, he whispers, “Just in case there isn’t a later.”

Unable to do anything but nod and cling to his arms, he continues, “You don’t have any reason to trust me. But if we survive this, I’ll explain everything, if you’ll let me.”

He pulls back, gleaming ink wells locked on hers. Remorsefully, he finishes with, “I’m so sorry. I never stopped loving you.”

She stares back at him stupidly, completely blindsided for a moment. She can’t find the right words, and they have no time, so she pokes him in the chest, “You are explaining everything when this over. That’s an order, Lieutenant Vandryk.”

Evangeline can hear the smile in his voice, “As you wish, milady.”

The once pristine white tile and ivory marble are caked in soot, framed portraits curling in on themselves as the remaining wisps of fire overtake every single one. There is no time to mourn them, so she pointedly looks away from the defaced ash heap that was a magnificent rendering of her parents. After dropping down to the first floor, before she starts climbing through the rubble, she wheels around to find Caine at her six, the familiarity of it a small comfort. 

Cumbersomely, they make their way over the heaps of rubble and into the bright, gray light of early morning. It’s slower, save for the ache in her right shoulder, but Caine assists her when she needs him. The whole arm is lethargic, but it’s her lead, and she must fight, so she ignores it, squeezes the grip of the longsword over and over. 

Nothing in Commander Evangeline’s vocabulary can accurately convey the scene before her, and for the third time in the past fifteen minutes, she is speechless.

Completely beside herself, she gasps, “Mother of the pearls above,” she blinks, craning her head up to see this —this beast before them, “Is that. . .”

It’s a dragon, something of nightmares. Suspiciously alone, with Odis nowhere to be seen, it is truly a terrifying thing to behold. Its whole body reflects the rays of sunlight in its metallic plating, blinding her as it moves. The titanic silver beast’s gargantuan, metal talons dig into the grassy hill as it rears its head back before aiming at the ground, like a lion. Gears and hydraulic pumps in the back of its throat whirr and hiss, before falling eerily silent as its mouth closes. Relaxing for a beat, however nonplussed, she’s glad to see her men did indeed fall back; safe from this monster of a weapon. Mysteriously quiet, the dragon tilts its head to the side, as if awaiting command. Its artificial eye shimmers in the sunlight, and she squints, realization dawning. 

“Caine, look,” she breathes, eyes flitting between the dragon’s head etched on the longsword and the creature before them.

He follows her line of sight, inquisitive, obsidian eyes widening as he catches the uncanny, identical resemblance. From the tips of its shard-like horns to the complex pattern of its scales to the otherworldly stone of its eye —they are exactly the same. All at once, the pieces start clicking into place. She remembers Teo nine months ago, starved and beaten as he escaped from captivity behind enemy lines, telling her with frightened, half breaths what happened to anyone that questioned Odis pursuit of this sword. 

“Greetings, Princess!” 

Evangeline is no longer afraid, no longer trepidatious —for the first time in four years, she knows exactly what she needs to do. Stiff as a statue, she lifts her eyes to see the devil himself striding towards them. As if instinctual, Caine steps slightly in front of her, whole body tense, hands at his sides. Quickly, she tells him, “I have a plan, but I need you to keep him occupied.” 

Caine chuckles, dangerously low, eyes alight with building rage. She can almost feel it as he murmurs scathingly, “With pleasure, milady.”

Everything about this man oozes decay and death. He stops inches from Caine —far too close for a man as clever as him. The ragged, black cape he wears flows creeping behind him like tar. His armor is melded from the blackest, impenetrable darkness known to man, and it hauntingly absorbs any and all light reflected onto it. His beady, snake eyes travel over Caine’s frame. It’s more unsettling than the dragon, as understanding dawns on his face.

“Ah,” he sneers, “the prodigal son returns. So honorable of you to protect your betrothed in her time of need. Even if you did abandon her.”

Then he nods approvingly, “Piracy suits you well, Captain.”

Neither of them gives him the satisfaction of a response. Twisted excitement growing, Evangeline clenches and unclenches the grip of the sword. 

Two things happen at once. Odis snaps his fingers, and instantaneously, the dragon opens his mouth, currents of electricity crackling up and down its teeth. Before they can flinch, it aims its head at the ground and roars, bursting her eardrums. The force of it slams the princess into the stone behind her, and something cracks in her middle as she slumps to her knees, ears ringing. The world was muffled like cotton was stuffed in her ears. She dizzily searches for Caine, but only sees black. Slowly, the cotton falls out. Her senses come back with startling clarity.  

A blur of movement and Caine tackles Odis to the ground, daggers in both of his hands. He’s launched onto his back but recovers quickly. Their weapons clash and clang against each other. She cannot afford to worry about him right now, she has to focus. Vision blurred, she stands, the pain is white-hot, and she chokes on air. Steeling herself, Evangeline shakily jogs past the head of the dragon, which has taken to busying itself with destroying what remains of the castle. Explosions of lightning snap and sputter across the sky before striking the palace. Debris rains down, and it’s a hassle altogether to avoid being struck. 

Evangeline analyzes the Herculean feat before her, and with her last bit of adrenaline, she hooks her boot around the tail. Unnoticed and out of sight, she uses the engineered ridges along its spine to support her damaged body as she climbs higher. It’s a see-saw of an ascent, the monster slings her weight back and forth as she crawls closer to its skull. 

Six inches away. 

Evangeline is tossed to the side viciously —it knows she’s here. Far away on the ground below, Caine is pinned between two daggers and a wall. They’re out of time. 

Securing her foothold, she lifts the longsword high above her head and slams it between the eyes of the wicked beast. It lets out a pained shriek, louder than the previous. Evangeline watches with wide eyes as the sword itself begins to vibrate, the gems of the engraved dragons' eyes starting to glow. White light breaks through its exoskeleton, growing brighter as it continues to scream. Evangeline’s senses are entirely overwhelmed, she almost cries out herself, then it comes to a screeching, blinding halt as the dragon explodes. Lightning fills the sky, hydraulic fluid burns her hand, shrapnel flies everywhere. 

Princess Evangeline hits the ground with a thud so hard her lungs feel like they’ve been welded together. It’s all she can do to curl on her side, trying to breathe. But she does, so she sits up, groaning with the effort. 

It is blissfully quiet, save for the ringing in her ears. And, what is that? She’s managed to keep her hold on the longsword. Now, though, the gems of the dragons' eyes are iridescent, glowing in the morning sun. The blade hums with electricity, the current alive and sparking back and forth. She pries her blistered fingers from it, hearing what sounds like a cough behind her. 

She twists as much as she can, sucking in a breath. Caine is sprawled across the charred dirt several yards away. Thank the pearls above, he moves, barely. He scrapes a bloodies hand over his face, teetering back and forth as he sits up.

“Caine,” she calls to him. Like a flipped switch, he’s a new man on his feet, skidding in the ash as he drops to his knees. His eyes are wild as he scans her face before pulling her to his chest. It hurts so much, but she makes no attempt to move. Lulling her head against his shoulder, she has no idea of how long they sit there, bruised and bloodied, huddled in the dirt together, the morning sun warm on her raw skin. 

Eventually, she turns to face him with a small smile, “You can start at the beginning, Lieutenant.”

Caine laughs, light and still as breathtaking as she remembers.

He leans his head against hers, “As you wish, milady.”