Archive of Our Own

“…For some reason, it concerns you whether I have fond feelings toward you. So, allow me to state it plainly. I do not have fond feelings toward you, Princess Ivy. I see such things as irrelevant. Whatever my sentiments may be, what matters is that you have my obedience.”

Ivy very much would have liked to slap the disdainful expression off of Zelkov’s face. His frigid indifference to her was infuriating, and the fact that it bothered her at all made her hate him even more. Why did he have the power to get under her skin so? Couldn’t he at least pretend to like her? That’s what everyone else did!

I’m so glad he doesn’t pretend. I’m so grateful he’s honest with me, even if it hurts. But it hurts so badly! Why can’t he just like me?

Hidden in the shadows of the Somniel’s garden, someone heard that whisper in Ivy’s heart and grinned.

Ivy put on her most aloof face. “What a curious thing for my own retainer to say. But that’s a relief. I don’t like you either.”

“I will obey you regardless,” Zelkov said with no change in his expression.

Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “So good to hear.”

None of her words ever affected him. She couldn’t even goad him into anger. She would give anything to make that jaded mask slip.

In an instant, Zelkov snapped to attention and grabbed her. He leapt to the side, taking her with him, as an arrow streaked past Ivy’s nose. Before she could react, he dove into the foliage to the side of the path. And before she could react to that, he pulled an unrepentant-looking Solmic prince out of the bushes.

“Prince Fogado!? What is the meaning of this?” Ivy snapped.

His roguish smile widened. “I’m not Fogado.” 

“It does not matter who you are. If you shoot arrows at my liege you will be a dead man,” Zelkov said in a manner both dispassionate and chilling. His knife appeared in his hand like a magician’s trick and stopped a hairsbreadth from Fogado’s throat.

“I wasn’t shooting at your girl,” he said smoothly. “I was shooting at you.”

Your girl!? Fire flamed in Ivy’s cheeks. She was the crown princess of Elusia and due the respect that that entailed. She was certainly not Zelkov’s girl. Fogado glanced at her and winked.

“What is the meaning of this?” Ivy demanded at the same time Zelkov said, “Explain yourself.”

“You might wanna watch who you point your knife at.” Fogado’s light tone held a strange sense of menace.

“Zelkov, stand down,” Ivy commanded. “We do not want to cause an international incident at a time like this. It must be some kind of misunderstanding. I cannot see any other reason why the prince of Solm would be shooting arrows at my retainer.” Ivy narrowed her eyes at Fogado.

Zelkov lowered his knife, but he was wound like a spring, ready to attack at the first sign of danger. Ivy could at least appreciate how seriously he took his duties.

“It was a love arrow. It wouldn’t have hurt… much.” Fogado chuckled. “Is it so bad to spread a little love in the world?”

Fogado — or whoever he was; Ivy was starting to believe now that he wasn’t the prince — swirled his fingers, and an ornate golden arrow appeared. 

“A love arrow?” asked Ivy.

Not-Fogado twirled the thing like a baton. “Oh yeah. If you’re shot with one of these, you fall in love with the next person you kiss.”

“That is ridiculous,” said Ivy, yet her hand reached out for the golden arrow.

Not-Fogado handed it to her. It was warm to the touch.

“Don’t prick your finger,” he warned in an irritating sing-song voice.

“Who are you?” Zelkov asked.

“You can’t tell? I am Cupido!” He gave an insolent bow. 

Ivy frowned. “Cupido is only a myth.”

“Maybe Elusia doesn’t believe in me anymore, what with all that snow chilling your hearts, but passion still exists in Solm. Then again… I think you two have plenty of passion. We just need to break the ice.” The twinkle in his eye was unsettling. 

“You would have us believe that you are the god of love?” Zelkov asked.

“You can believe whatever you want,” said Cupido with a shrug.

It was an absurd claim, yet the arrow that he had conjured out of thin air was growing warmer against Ivy’s fingers.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

“Fogado was born under my sign. At his birth, I gave him my blessing — charm, luck, good looks, the works — and in return, I can make use of his physical form on my feast day.”

“That explains how you are here, but not why,” said Zelkov.

Cupido spread his hands and repeated, “Is it such a bad thing to spread a little love in the world?” 

Ivy’s eyes were drawn to Zelkov’s face, every feature sculpted in cold, hard, unfeeling stone. She glanced down at the arrow, now uncomfortably hot against her skin.

“Zelkov,” she said.

He turned to her. Before her thoughts could catch up with her actions, Ivy reached out for him. She grabbed a fistfull of his hair. At the same moment that she crashed her lips against his, she stabbed the arrow into his chest.

His lips were nothing like stone, but he was as still as a statue. The arrow faded to glittering dust. Ivy quickly backed away with her hands over her mouth.

“What have I done?” she whispered.

Zelkov stared at her.

“Oh, I knew you guys would be fun.” Cupido laughed much more cruelly than Fogado ever had. “I actually lied about having to kiss him, but you sure got his attention!”

As Cupido laughed again, Zelkov blinked. His eyes focused on Ivy with the same intensity they bore in the midst of battle. Her breath caught in her throat.

Then he dropped to one knee in front of her and bowed his head. “Unworthy though I am, I must beg for your forgiveness, my princess.”

She stared down at him in astonishment. “What?”

“My harsh words earlier. When I said that I held no fond feelings toward you, it was only because my feelings are far more than fond.”

“What!?”

“Princess, you are my reason for living.”

Something that tasted a little like victory spread through Ivy. Not so cold now, was he? He couldn’t look down his nose at her when he was on his knees. She wanted more.

“I forgive you,” she said.

“Thank you, my lady.” He took her hand and put his forehead against the back of it. “What can I do to prove my devotion to you? Only ask, and I shall do whatever you desire.”

Several fanciful options went through her head. How far would he go for her? Of course he had never refused an order from her before, but his manner had always discouraged her from asking anything nonessential. What could she ask for to humble him?

“I will give thought to the matter,” she told him. “For now, stand up…”

He once again rose to his full height. Her hand slid out of his as if he was reluctant to let it go. She brought her knuckle to her lips.

“...Look me in the eye…” she said.

He met her gaze, and Ivy couldn’t have looked away if she wanted to.

“...And tell me you… are fond of me.”

“I am fond of you.”

She decided to test out the arrows limitations and make a truly outrageous request. For the sole purpose of cutting him down to size of course.

“Tell me you love me.”

“I love you.”

Rather than feeling satisfaction at turning the tables on Zelkov, hearing those three words in his dark, smokey voice tied Ivy’s stomach in knots. She stood speechless for a moment, still caught by the way he was looking at her. 

“Thank you,” she said faintly.

There was now some sort of ache in her chest.

“It’s only temporary, you know,” Cupido’s voice whispered in her ear.

“Isn’t love always?” Ivy murmured.

“Did you say something, Princess?” asked Zelkov.

“No.”

The folly of her rash and spiteful decision came crashing down on Ivy. She didn’t want someone to tell her they loved her because of some magic arrow. She had stripped the words of any meaning they might have had. And after this brief infatuation had passed, Zelkov would hate her more than ever. It would be well deserved.

What was she supposed to do now? There was no way to fix this, and he was still standing there looking at her with eyes soft enough to break a heart.

“Please, allow me to do more,” he said.

She wrung her hands. “If it would make you happy…”

“Nothing could provide me greater happiness than seeing your smile directed at me.”

She now felt a bit like crying, but she had extensive experience in keeping that inside. “Very well. I shall think of something. Um… You can, ah… pick me a flower from the garden.”

“Which flower do you desire?”

“...One that reminds you of me.”

He bowed. “As you wish.”

With that, he took off for the garden. It was only at this point that Ivy realized Fogado — or rather Cupido — was nowhere to be seen. That did not bode well. 

Not wanting to let Zelkov out of her sight, she walked to the garden, but climbed the stairs to the top of the wall that overlooked it. She leaned over the railing to watch him move purposefully among the flora. Sometimes he would stop to consider a flower, then move on to the next. He always carried out even the smallest request she gave him with single-minded determination.

Finally, he stooped down and reached for something low to the ground. A large gardenia bush obscured Ivy’s view of it. When he stood up, though, she could see nothing in his hands. At that moment, he looked up at her. With embarrassment, she realized he had known she was there the whole time. Of course he had — it was a part of his job, wasn’t it? And it wasn’t as if she had been hiding after all.

As he approached her, anticipation tightened in Ivy’s stomach — for what reason, she couldn’t say. She had no idea what to expect.

When he reached her, Zelkov bowed once again. It did not seem as mechanically calculated to be the precise angle that courtesy demanded as it usually was.

“The flower?” She tried to keep her tone neutral.

“Here.”

He drew the flower out of his sleeve and proffered it to her. The gesture was so gracefully done that it took her a moment to register what it was he was holding.

“A… dandelion,” she said flatly.

What mockery was this? What kind of fool would bring the object of his affection a weed? Everyone who had tried to court her in the past had brought her roses.

“It is an homage to your tenacity in the face of adversity.” He spoke with his usual candor though it was missing the harshness.

“What do you mean by that?” she asked as she took the flower from him.

She was awfully cognizant of the slight brush of her fingers against his.

“One with sensibilities as tender as yours could never thrive in the poison of the Elusian court, yet you persevered. In such an inimical environment, you survived with the goodness of your soul intact.” 

Ivy was at a loss for words. All those men who had given her roses had praised her for her beauty. Now it was Zelkov, of all people, praising her character? It was not, in some respects, a romantic thing to say, but it was something that Ivy hadn’t even known she’d longed to hear.

She studied the dandelion. “There were a few times where I survived only because of your intervention.”

“To allow harm to come to you would render my life meaningless. My purpose is to ensure your wellbeing.”

“Hm.”

As a reflex — it is what one does with flowers — she brought the dandelion to her nose. It was not particularly fragrant. She frowned.

Zelkov bowed his head. “I can see now that I have made a poor choice.”

“No, don’t think that. You have caused me to reevaluate my opinion on dandelions.” Without meaning to, she took a step closer to him. “I find myself reevaluating many things today.”

“Is that true?” His eyes met hers.

“Yes.” 

Ivy’s feelings were swirling around too fast for her to catch. The way he was looking at her was so foreign: gentle warmth like nothing she had ever experienced. Anyone would be drawn to it. Her face gravitated towards his. Just to see his eyes up close. That was all. They were a bright gold, with a tawny ring encircling the pupil that spread in rays from it like the sun.

Suddenly, the sun clouded over. His expression changed.

“What did you do to me?” he whispered.

Ivy turned her head away. “Please, forgive me. I… I deeply regret my actions. They were unbecoming of a princess and, and… I’m so sorry.” She turned back to him, doing her utmost to keep the tears at bay. “I understand if you wish to leave my service.”

He shook his head. “Princess Ivy, I am… confused. Why would you want me, of all people, to… have such feelings for you?”

What could she say? That it was some sort of petty revenge? So she could be the cold one while he was desperate for her? Or maybe it was to see that warmth in his eyes when he looked at her…

“I just want you to like me!” burst out of her at last.

“But why? Why does it concern you whether I have fond feelings for you?” He asked this as if he truly couldn’t understand. “I am a wretched man who only deserves your scorn.”

She opened her mouth to say something — though she didn’t quite know what — when a searing pain erupted in her heart, and darkness crept in at the corners of her vision.

Zelkov’s world stopped as the black arrow struck Princess Ivy in the heart. Her eyes widened. Her breath came out in a short huff. 

Emotions barraged him. There was guilt, anger, and self-loathing — his one purpose was keeping her safe, and he had failed in it — but the thing he felt most was an emptiness in his chest that was far too familiar.

He took her by the shoulders to stop her from falling, but she did not fall. Her violet eyes stared at him, as always searching for something and not finding it. Then her expression changed.

“Don’t touch me!” Her lips curled in disgust as she yanked herself out of his grasp.

Laughter rang in Zelkov’s ears as an arm was thrown over his shoulder.

“Oh, I wish you could see your face right now. You guys are hilarious!”

Zelkov whipped around. Once again his knife was at Cupido’s throat.

“Hey, cool it, my guy. You know you’ll kill Fogado if you do anything stupid.” Cupido grinned. “Besides, maybe I have a cure for the hate arrow.”

“Hate arrow?” growled Zelkov. “I thought you were the god of love.” He still released Cupido.

“Nope. I’m the god of passion. And what’s more passionate than hate?”

“Zelkov!” snapped Princess Ivy. “You are always going on about doing your duty, yet you couldn’t stop me from getting shot with an arrow? I don’t keep you as my retainer for your charming personality!”

He stepped backwards, not prepared for her vitriol. “Princess Ivy, I… I failed in my responsibility towards you.”

He fumbled for what to say. How could he ask for forgiveness for what should have been a fatal mistake? The fact that he was distracted was irrelevant. Or perhaps it was extremely relevant. That was why he had to be detached. It was clear he could not afford distractions. Why was it, then, that the hate in her eyes hurt so badly?

“You asked for this,” whispered Cupido. “You said you only deserved her scorn…”

“You said there was a cure?”

“I said ‘maybe.’ But there isn’t.”

“Stop muttering, Zelkov,” Princess Ivy crossed her arms. “You are correct, you did fail. I knew you never cared about me.”

“My concern for you is genuine,” Zelkov insisted.

“Because it is your responsibility to care for the princess. Your little porcelain teacup that you vowed to keep from breaking. A thing that you wish would stop falling off of tables. What about me? What about Ivy?” She thrust her finger at her chest. “Do you care if you break that?”

“I… I…”

How had he managed to fail so utterly in a way that he did not even realize was possible?

“Of course you don’t care!” Ivy’s voice rose as she continued to rant. “You hateful man with your heart of stone. Never a smile for me. Not one! You’ll smile at the children and the animals. The Divine Dragon got one! I saw it. But not for me! Not for the one you stand beside every day.”

“Princess Ivy, please, I thought it better that our relationship remain impersonal.”

“Impersonal! Ha! Of course. Who would feel any fondness towards a teacup?”

“Why do you want me to be fond of you?” Zelkov demanded. He had yet to get a straight answer.

She crossed her arms and turned away. “Of course the man with ice in his veins wouldn’t understand.” 

“How can I understand when you refuse to explain it?” He felt a spark of anger. “You were the one who professed your dislike of me!”

“What reason have you given me to like you?” she asked haughtily.

“There is no reason to like me!” Zelkov insisted. “So why do you care if I like you?”

“I don’t anymore! You can rot in hell for all I care. You dropped your teacup. Are you going to shed a tear now that it’s shattered? Of course not,” she said bitterly.

Princess Ivy began to walk away. He stood there unable to process what had just happened. He did deserve her hate, perhaps, but he now realized that he did not want to be hated by her. She was important to him. Vitally important. He ran after her and grabbed her arm.

“Please, is there no way for me to repair this? If you were a teacup, I would find every piece and fit it back together with the utmost care. It would mean all the more to me for its cracks. But you are not a teacup, Princess Ivy, and I do not know how to mend what has been broken. Please tell me, because it matters to me.”

She seemed as if she was going to snatch her arm away again, but then she met his gaze. Her expression changed. Her shoulders slumped.

“Zelkov… I am a bad person.”

“I do not believe that.” He let go of her arm.

“After everything I’ve said to you…? What I did to you…?”

“I have done nothing to deserve better.”

“That is not true,” she said earnestly.

“If you are a bad person, then I am far worse.”

“You are not. I’ve seen all the acts of kindness you do around the Somniel. You help others without a second thought. You pour yourself into it with all the careful consideration that shows in everything you do.”

“It is only a way to fill my idle hours.”

“Those few hours where you are not fulfilling every request I make of you.”

“Princess Ivy, I was an assassin. I excel at violence. That is the reason that I am your retainer. Not my… charming personality, as you said.”

She grimaced. “I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me. I wish I could take it all back…”

“You were not in your right mind.”

“But in a way, I think… I was.” She looked at him with pain in her eyes. “And that is why I am a bad person.”

“So you do hate me?”

“No — !”

Ivy’s reply was cut off by laughter.

“Ooooh, just feel that tension in the air. You guys are the best.”

“You! This is all your fault.” Ivy pointed an accusing finger at Cupido.

“Me?” Cupido said innocently. “I was just helping you out. All I did was make holes to release all those feelings you two keep bottled up. She loves you so much she hates you, and he hates how much he loves you. It’s perfect.”

He wiped away a fake tear. Zelkov lunged to grab him, but this time Cupido danced out of the way with slightly more than human speed.

“Seems like you guys want some alone time. I get it.”

Cupido leapt over the side of the wall and into one of the trees, then dropped out of sight.

“Should I go after him?” asked Zelkov.

“I… I honestly don’t know. Part of me wants to stay as far from him as possible.”

“I understand the impulse.”

Ivy didn’t want to admit it, but what she longed to do was hide under her blankets. Frankly, that would be the least mortifying thing she had done all day.

“Perhaps it would be best if we stayed as far away from each other as possible,” said Zelkov.

She put her knuckle to her lips. “There is logic to that…”

Neither of them moved.

“On the other hand, we do not simply want to wait in fear for another attack. Who knows what he may do next? He may target others,” said Zelkov.

“True… I suppose we have an obligation to warn the others.”

Again they did not move. Any explanation would surely bring up awkward questions.

“Do you think Princess Timerra would have some knowledge of this?” Ivy wondered. “With Fogado being her brother. Perhaps this has happened before, and she would have some strategy to subdue Cupido.”

“I believe that is a wise plan. At this time of day, she is frequently at the flea market.”

“Right.”

The two of them made their way down the path to the little stall where all manner of strange trinkets and goods were sold. It could have been Lady Anna managing it, but in their first stroke of luck all day, Timerra was there with no one else in sight.

“Hey, Princess Ivy, Zelkov,” she greeted them. “Come to do a little shopping?” 

“Actually, we have come to you with a problem regarding Prince Fogado,” Ivy said gravely.

Timerra rolled her eyes. “What’d he do this time?”

“Has he ever been, ah… possessed before?”

“Oh, not Cupido,” she groaned. 

“So I take it this has happened before.”

“It hasn’t in a long time. See, we usually have a big party on Fogado’s birthday, and we all dance and sing and hang paper hearts everywhere. People kiss. People get into fights. People get into fights and then kiss. Or vice versa. Anyway,” Timerra waved her hand. “We all let off steam, and it keeps Cupido happy. Otherwise he, uh… makes his own fun.”

“Hm,” was Ivy’s response. “So if we appease him, he will leave us alone?”

“He should.” Timerra made an unreassuring shrug. “Wait, when you say ‘leave us alone,’ do you mean the two of you…?”

Ivy’s cheeks warmed. “I believe we should focus on the solution to the problem.”

Timerra snickered. “Oh man, I wish I had been there for that! You two are so…” Seeing the looks on their faces, she discontinued the thought. “Well, hey! Let’s throw Fogado a birthday party. I think all of us need to let off a little steam after everything that’s happened. Help me find Pandreo.”

Ivy and Zelkov jumped at any kind of solution. They tracked down Pandreo who promised to put together a “real Solmic throwdown.” They next found Bunet and Mauvier picking vegetables together in the garden. Bunet immediately got to work planning a feast.

“C’mon,” said Timerra. “I’ll get Merrin and Panette and we can start making the decorations. Lanterns and garlands and all that.”

“Should we have asked the Divine One for permission first?” Ivy asked a bit nervously.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. The Divine One enjoys a good party as much as anyone.”

The three of them joined up with Merrin and Panette. Zelkov, of course, had a large collection of paper in different sizes, colors, and weights. 

“Now what?” he asked as he set it on a table in the café.

“We make paper hearts and string ’em up,” said Timerra.

“Is this completely necessary?”

“You wanna get rid of Cupido or not?”

Zelkov made one of his displeased noises and sat down. All of them began cutting designs into paper hearts. Ivy spent far too long trying and failing to make every heart live up to what she pictured in her head. Timerra’s were in no way precise, but there was a liveliness to them that drew the eye. Merrin cut the shapes of animals into hers. Panette’s… certainly had cuts in them. And Zelkov’s? Well, of course they were perfect — designs as delicate and intricate as lace, made at a speed that didn’t seem possible. 

Ivy hated how good he was at everything. It made her feel particularly inept. But a voice deep inside wondered if maybe she wouldn’t hate it so much if he was making a heart for her. Her emotions churned. 

Being too good at everything was really such a silly thing to hate someone for. She should consider herself lucky to have such a skilled retainer. While Ivy was sure that all the other royals’ retainers were nice, Zelkov was clearly the best at his job of any of them. He threw himself into every assignment she gave him with no hesitation. He worked himself to the bone for her. Why couldn’t Ivy just appreciate that? It shouldn’t concern her that he had no “fond feelings” for her. But then under the influence of the golden arrow, he had looked at her with eyes like honey, and it had snatched all the air from her lungs.

Ivy looked down and realized she had cut her heart in half.

When Zelkov had a task before him, it was his habit to immerse himself in it entirely. The world would fall away, and unwelcome thoughts would be stilled for a few moments. It was not successful this time. As he cut designs into the paper hearts, he could not help but be aware of Princess Ivy. As he finished one heart, he glanced at her. She was working diligently, putting great care and thought into each cut that she made. Her face scrunched when it did not turn out to her satisfaction. He was not in the habit of calling things “cute” but there was a certain endearing quality to the expression. 

He well understood her drive for perfection and self-recrimination when she did not achieve it. For the most part, he got rid of the many attempts he made at his pursuits before he achieved a result that satisfied him. But there were far more important things riding on Princess Ivy’s slender shoulders than making a sauce or a sweater. The fate of Elusia was in her hands. Serving her meant something. Taking any amount of her burdens onto himself gave his life a purpose. It made him think that perhaps there was a reason why he had not died with his family.

The image of the black arrow driving into her heart haunted him. It did not matter that she had not died. It did not matter that the arrow had been shot by a god. He had fought against gods before and would again. He had failed in his purpose. Yet it was not only that the arrow hitting her had proven his worthlessness. The idea of a life without her was painful. Not the princess but Ivy. All of the walls he had built up between her and himself had their foundations on sand, it seemed. He dearly wished it was only a teacup he was guarding, but it happened to be a woman with thoughts and dreams and unfathomable emotions.

As much as he deserved her hate, he now knew that he did not want it. The venom in her voice had burned far worse than any poison he had ever encountered. He realized — possibly too late — that he cared what she thought of him.

What her feelings for him actually were was unclear. One minute she seemed desperate for his approval, the next she wanted nothing to do with him. And then for a moment, while he had been under the influence of the golden arrow, it had seemed like she almost… But no, he must have been mistaken. 

He looked down and realized he had cut a large hole in the center of his heart.

As the group worked, others began to notice and ask about what they were doing. Timerra explained that they were making preparations for Fogado’s birthday.

“His birthday is on Cupido’s day? Somehow that is… appropriate,” said Céline. “I shall make some flower arrangements.”

“Sounds great!” said Timerra. “The more the better.”

“Then I shall press Alfred into service — if that barbarian has not forgotten how to make a flower crown.”

Alfred, it seemed, had not forgotten how to make a flower crown. He wove together stacks of them with the unseasonal array of foliage that the magic of the Somniel provided. None of them contained dandelions.

“It’s a tradition that you’re supposed to give a flower crown to the people you love on Cupido’s day,” Alfred explained. “But the Firenese just can’t resist a good flower crown. We hand ’em out on pretty much every holiday.”

To Ivy it seemed like a dream. In Elusia, flowers were rare and prized. People named their children after them. The painstakingly maintained greenhouse had been Ivy’s favorite hiding place in Elusia Castle. They would never allow a dandelion to take root there. Elusia took great stock in beauty, charm, elegance, and perfection. Wasn’t that why Hortensia and her retainers were always competing to see who was the cutest? It certainly explained everything about Goldmary. Even Zelkov was not immune to the lure of perfection. That being the case, it stood to reason that Elusia’s crown princess had to be the most beautiful, charming, elegant, and perfect.

Ivy was a rose, not a dandelion. But then again… a rose had to be carefully tended, and its beauty faded quickly. A dandelion was a survivor. Even when it seemed to have been torn out of the ground, its roots remained anchored — determined to grow again no matter the circumstances. Perhaps that was the kind of queen Elusia needed now.

The little weed was still in her pocket. Ivy shot a glance at Zelkov, who was hard at work stringing all the paper hearts together. Had any of his words when he gave the dandelion to her meant anything or was it all the golden arrow?

Soon half the Somniel was involved in party preparations. Kagetsu showed up, indignant that Zelkov and Ivy were having fun without him, and helped them hang the garlands. More people kept arriving until everyone was milling around in the plaza waiting for something to happen. Even the Emblems floated nearby, observing the excitement.

As the sun was setting and paper lanterns were casting a pinkish glow on the white marble, Cupido — still inhabiting Fogado’s body — sauntered into the middle of it all.

“Hey! The birthday boy finally showed up,” cheered Pandreo. 

He howled and others joined in. Cupido smiled. His eyes connected with Zelkov’s and he winked. Zelkov had seen too much suffering in his life to believe in prayer, but if he had, he would have prayed fervently that this plan would work.

Princess Timerra stood up on one of the café tables. The crowd quieted as she began to sing. It was not one of her tuneless songs about meat. Instead, it was a ballad of a love as vast as the desert sky, gained and lost. The deep joy the princess took in singing was reflected in the passion of her performance. Zelkov was as entranced by it as the rest of the audience, until he caught a glimpse of movement and realized that Cupido was moving among the crowd.

Zelkov froze, unsure of what to do. Before he could come to a decision, the song had ended. As everyone applauded, Cupido hopped up on the table beside Princess Timerra.

“Ah, that’s one of my favorites,” he said.

“Yep.” Princess Timerra gave him a knowing smile. “Underneath all that swagger, you’re just a big softie.”

Cupido returned her smile. “Maybe. But that’s enough sad stuff for now. I wanna see some dancing!”

Pandreo howled again and picked up his lute. He began to play a lively tune as Princess Timerra sang and stamped out the beat on the table. Merrin and Panette joined in.

The less inhibited members of the Divine Army began to dance. Seadall was in the middle of it, lost somewhere in the rhythm. He was given space by the other dancers. They twirled singly, in groups, then more and more in couples.

In the face of all this noise and activity and… socialization, Zelkov retreated into the shadows under the stairs that curved around the plaza. He watched as Princess Ivy was pulled into the dance by the Divine One. There was no way she would ever refuse her deity. Zelkov frowned as Princess Ivy’s cheeks turned bright red. Her awed look was nothing new, it just bothered him more on this particular night. After the Divine One had moved on to a new partner, Prince Diamant asked Princess Ivy for a dance, and after him came Prince Alfred. Princess Timerra dragged her on top of the table and whirled her around. Everyone, it seemed, wanted a turn dancing with Princess Ivy.

The growing discontent that Zelkov felt was ominous. He tried to pull back on the armor of indifference, but it seemed to be broken beyond repair. What if Princess Ivy was hit by a golden arrow and fell in love with someone? What if a golden arrow was not needed for it? Her romantic entanglements were none of his business, and yet the image of her eyes filled with tenderness made his chest ache. What if the recipient did not appreciate it properly?

For the moment, no golden arrows seemed imminent. Cupido was sitting in a chair, watching the proceedings with a grin on his face. He seemed to be having the time of his life. Surely that was a good sign?

Despite all the other things vying for Zelkov’s attention, he could not help but notice when Lapis came up to Alcryst, who was also hiding in the shadows. She held one of the flower crowns in her hands.

“Prince Alcryst, I… wanted to give you this to show you that I, um, care about you… very much.”

“F-for me?” He accepted the flower crown as if it might explode. “But… will you take it back?”

Lapis’s face fell. Zelkov could not help feeling pity for her.

“Because,” Prince Alcryst continued. “I… care very much about you too, and I think it would look much prettier on you…”

“Oh,” Lapis breathed as Prince Alcryst placed the flower crown on her head.

White daisies did compliment the pink of her hair nicely. In an uncharacteristically wistful way, Zelkov thought they made a charming couple. A royal and their retainer. Imagine that.

“Do you… want to dance?” Lapis asked.

Prince Alcryst took a deep breath. “I’ll do my best.”

As the two of them walked off hand in hand, Zelkov noticed Yunaka and Louis close by. He tried even harder to merge with the shadows. The two of them had eyes that were far too sharp. Fortunately, it seemed at the moment that they were too involved in their own conversation to notice him.

“Yunaka,” said Louis. “As much as I enjoy observing others' happiness with you, it seems to me a shame that you are here, rather than out on the dancefloor.”

“Psh.” She waved her hand. “Me? Out there? No thanks.”

“I can only imagine that you would make a very graceful dancer. I would find it a pleasure to watch.”

She looked him up and down. “Alright, I’ll dance. On one condition.”

“What would that be?”

“You’re not allowed to watch. You have to dance with me.”

For just a moment, the light caught on the startling green of Louis’s eyes. “Oh very well then.”

Yunaka walked off with a nonchalance that Zelkov saw through immediately. He was certain Louis did as well. Hopefully the two of them would distract each other. Zelkov did not want to contemplate what would happen if they combined their powers of observation.

The music had slowed down to a more lilting melody. The Divine One watched Pandreo pick out the tune on his lute with a rapt expression. The priest had a rather fine voice. 

Cupido lounged in his chair with his legs crossed. He looked like the cat who had gotten the cream. When would he decide that he had had enough and leave?

At that moment, Chloé pulled Merrin into the darkness under the stairs giggling and whispering. Zelkov decided that this secluded spot was not secluded enough. He stepped out into the light.

Why were there so many couples? Even the Fell Dragon Rafal was begrudgingly allowing Prince Alfred to put a flower crown on his head. Was this Cupido’s work or had Zelkov not noticed all these budding romances in the Divine Army? It was possible he had turned a blind eye to it. Romance was something he had no interest in. But maybe that was not quite accurate. It would be more truthful to say that it was dangerous to his peace of mind — or whatever thin veneer of stability passed for his peace of mind.

“There you are,” said a voice. “I should not have to hunt down my own retainer.”

He turned on his heel and bowed. “Princess Ivy, forgive me. I should have —”

“Don’t worry, Zelkov. I was only teasing you.”

He was not sure how he was supposed to react. “You have been occupied tonight.”

“Yes, it has been… exhausting. It would be a relief to sit somewhere dark and quiet.” She put her knuckle to her lips. “Would you get me some of that punch and bring it to the lookout?”

“Of course.”

The view of the night sky from the lookout was unparalleled. One felt like they were among the stars. The moon was a waxing crescent — a bright bow that seemed close enough for Ivy to grab. She idly wondered if it would be like shooting Lyn’s bow. Her legs hung off the side of the cliff. Elyos lay somewhere below, but she couldn’t see anything but darkness and the occasional cloud. She was supposed to be putting her thoughts in order, but it was far easier to just stare at the sky.

She heard footsteps on the path. Zelkov was doing it on purpose so that he wouldn't surprise her. When he first became her retainer, she had jumped at his every appearance, thinking it was some vengeful ghost. Her embarrassment had not endeared him to her. How ridiculous to be upset that her assassin was too stealthy.

His voice came from behind her. “Princess Ivy, here is your drink.”

“Thank you. Will you come sit with me? I think it may be necessary to… clear the air between us.”

“Hm. Perhaps.”

He handed the cup to her. She took a grateful sip as he sat down. All the dancing truly had worn her out.

They both stared at the sky for a bit. He was expecting her to start the conversation — as he should, since she had been the one to suggest it. She tapped her fingernails against the cup.

“I do not hate you,” she said at last.

“It is a comfort to hear.” He didn’t sound sarcastic.

“I… hate how cold you are to me,” she continued.

“I apologize. I did not realize how much my demeanor affected you. Although I admit I do not know how to be any other way.”

She gave a small laugh. “I’ve seen you try so hard not to frighten the children.”

“There are so many frightening things in the life of a child. I do not like to be one more of them.” He knocked his bootheel against the cliffside. “To see someone hide their face and cry because you merely looked at them… It is not an experience you would have had.”

“Perhaps not. But then again, you should have seen the way some people’s knees shook on petition days. I have been told my natural facial expression looks angry.”

“Displeased, perhaps.”

She exhaled through her nose. “Good to know you agree.”

“I… ah… did not mean...”

“Zelkov, do you think I am cold?”

“I think you are guarded, which some may take for coldness.”

Guarded… He wasn’t wrong. Showing your true emotions was weakness in the Elusian court. She had long ago learned to hide hers. But was the same true for Zelkov as well? All the times when he had been cold to her, had he really been trying to protect himself? Protect himself from what?

“Hmm,” was her response. She took another sip from the cup.

“I do not hate you,” he said.

“So good to hear,” she replied, but with more wistfulness than sarcasm this time.

There was a moment of quiet, broken only by the faint sounds of the party on the other side of the Somniel.

“Why does it concern you whether I have fond feelings towards you, Princess Ivy,” he asked once again.

She looked down at her hands gripping the cup. “Because I have… certain feelings for you, and… I would like to see them returned.”

He was silent for a time while her heart dropped like a stone down a well.

Finally he spoke. “You said that perhaps you were not out of your right mind under the effects of the black arrow.”

“Yes… but I do not hate you. Only the way you make me feel.”

“Hm.” He studied the horizon. “Perhaps I was not entirely out of my right mind under the effects of the golden arrow.”

“But… but you said…”

“I know that the… things that I said then contradict what I said before… about having no fond feelings towards you. I do not want you to think of me as a liar.”

“I would never think that,” she said with a touch of humor.

“I have considerable experience with burying my thoughts and feelings. I have aimed for numbness for so long.” He glanced at her and then away. “...I do not know how to feel.”

“Perhaps you need to be reminded.” Her fingers rested on the back of his hand.

“Reminded?” He turned his head to look at her. His expression contained two things she had never seen in it before: uncertainty and hope.

“Of what it feels like to love… and be loved.”

Ivy pulled the dandelion out of her pocket. A rose would have lost its petals after such a rough journey. 

“I don’t know how to make a flower crown, but I hope you will accept this.” She tucked the dandelion behind his ear. “It would make me happy if you allowed yourself to feel… fondness for me. And see where it goes from there…”

He touched the flower in wonderment. “You would do the same?”

“Yes.”

“I would like for you to be happy with me.”

She smiled and leaned her shoulder against his. “So it concerns you whether I have fond feelings for you?”

His lip twitched. “I am never going to live that down, am I?”

“Perhaps I could forget about it if…” Ivy suddenly lost confidence.

“If what?”

“Nothing.”

His fingers interlocked with hers. “Never hesitate to delegate any task to me.”

“This would be a request, not a command. You are free to say no.”

“What is your request?”

She took a deep breath. “Would you like to…? Would you kiss me?”

He studied her face and brought his hand to her cheek. “I admit that, on occasion, the thought has stolen into my head. Wondering what it would be like.”

“Really?” She leaned in towards him.

He tilted his head down toward hers. “Yes.”

“So will you?” she whispered.

“Yes,” he said, and put his lips against hers.

Here was warmth enough to melt Ivy. It pooled in her chest, then spread to the rest of her body. She closed her eyes and savored something she could now admit she had wanted for a long time.

“Finally!” came a voice from the bushes. “I thought you two would never stop talking.”

Ivy and Zelkov leapt away from each other as much as they could without falling off the cliff.

“Cupido,” she growled.

“No, no, don’t get up. You guys have been an absolute delight. Really made my day. But I got what I wanted, and it’s about time for me to go.” Cupido gave them an extravagant bow. “You’re welcome.”

At the stroke of midnight, Cupido left Fogado’s body and disappeared back to wherever he had come from. Fogado blinked and shook his head.

“Oof. What happened?” He saw the expression on Ivy and Zelkov’s faces. “It wasn’t Cupido, was it?”

“It was.”

Fogado grimaced. “Guess we kinda forgot about that. Y’see…”

“Princess Timerra filled us in,” said Ivy. “Your birthday is currently being celebrated in the plaza.”

“So if I’m here with you two, does that mean…?”

Ivy pursed her lips. “I am assuming you do not want this Cupido business to be common knowledge.”

Fogado put his hands up. “Right, right, we’ll all keep our mouths shut. Welp, guess I’ll go enjoy what’s left of my birthday party. You guys can get back to whatever you were doing.”

He gave them a smirk that was far too much like Cupido’s, then started off down the path. Ivy and Zelkov watched him until he disappeared around the bend.

“Did you want to return to the party?” Zelkov asked.

“Not particularly.”

“You are tired.”

“Yes.” She studied the reflection of the moon in his eyes. “But I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight.”

“I will not either,” he said. “But that is not out of the ordinary.”

“Perhaps we could stay here a bit longer then.”

“That sounds… agreeable.”

Ivy felt shy, not knowing how to pick back up where they had left off. 

“Do you know how to make a flower crown?” she asked.

“I do.”

“Would you teach me?”

“It would be my honor, but I have no flowers.”

“There are plenty of dandelions here.”