22 years ago, the King of Helonia was blessed with a son. For decades now, he had been praying for one in the hopes that someone would be able to carry on his legacy, but his queen had been unable to birth a child until now. And so, it was only expected that the King celebrate his birth in the grandest manner possible.

  News was spread throughout the neighbouring seven kingdoms that he had been gifted a healthy son by the heavens. Feasts were arranged for everyone in the kingdom to enjoy, regardless of their social or monetary standing. He wanted to make sure that this would not only become a joyous occasion in his life, but also in the lives of every single living creature under his rule.

  This son was named Arthur. Family name, Cross.

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  Over the next five years, Prince Arthur Cross grew to be the most wondrous child. He learnt well, and his physical prowess for his age was unmatched. His name was known throughout the lands for his unthinkable generosity and courage. It was said that he faced a rabid dog when he was only five, and then prevailed over it when it attacked. This only gave the King the most positive of thoughts over the future of his son and kingdom.

  And so, he hired the most hailed teacher in the entire world to teach his son swordplay. The day he arrived and started to teach Arthur the basics; he declared that the prince was the greatest student he had ever had. There was no doubt that he would grow up to match some of the greatest swordsmen who had ever lived on this planet. This was hope, not only for this child’s potential popularity, but also the fear his name would strike.

  For the next eight years, Arthur went through the most rigorous training under his teacher. Every single sword style and every single counter to every sword style was drilled into his head until he could fight someone in his sleep. It was his greatest achievement, and he soon began to believe that there was nobody in this world who could be his equal. Age and experience did not matter. If he came across a man or woman who claimed they could beat him, he would show them how arrogant they were, and destroy their pride.

  It was only natural, then, that when the next royal tournament came around, Arthur decided that he was old enough to participate. Despite his father warning him that he would face incredibly difficult opponents, Arthur did not care. He knew he was good enough. He could feel it in every single bone of his body. He could see himself lifting that trophy of honour as the crowd chanted his name in unison.

  So, he entered.

  To the credit of the child, he did blast through every single enemy he came across. It did not matter how old they were or how long they had practiced their art. He tore through their defences and humbled them with his superior swordsmanship. It was like second nature to the prince. His sword was not just an extension of his arm, but his arm itself. A talent hitherto unseen in a man this young and na?ve.

  Prince Arthur Cross made it to the very end of the royal tournament. In the final match, he was set to fight the 17-year-old William Artback, who was a hero of his own people. The match attracted viewers from far away, since these two young warriors had managed to defeat middle-aged knights who had seen real battles to get here. It proved that skill triumphed over everything else, and this was a sign of hope for those who thought they could never match up to the greatness of the knights.

  Then, when the bell sounded, the audience and the warriors prepared themselves. The match began in earnest.

  Arthur decided to attack first. He moved up and aimed for William’s knee. It was a classic opener. If he attacked there first, he would set up a mental block. William would sidestep to avoid his attack, which is exactly what he did, and then start worrying about when the next swing for his knee would come. This would limit his footwork and immediately give Arthur the upper hand.

  William took the opportunity to immediately go for his neck, but that was a childish play. Arthur used the momentum built into the sword to bring it back up and knock the sword away. The opponent’s grip was good, so it did go flying, but his wrist did rattle with the pressure the prince put on it. This was good. Arthur knew that he was going to win this, and it would not even be difficult.

  Then the trading of blows began. One by one, Arthur tried to attack his limbs, and William blocked those, while William attacked his lethal spots, and Arthur blocked those. The rhythmic clangs of their sword satisfied the audience almost immediately. This was the view of two masters of their craft at work with each other. This was something they would never see again. You never knew when Arthur had the upper hand, and when William did. It was the fairest match to ever have been fought.

  Eventually, when Arthur had forced William to reserve all of his movements in the fear that the prince would attack his arms or legs, Arthur took the chance to go for his neck. It came out of nowhere, and was the first time that he had decided to go for the kill. So, William naturally panicked. He jumped backwards and slipped on the rock right below his feet. He fell to the floor, and his sword left his hand.

  Arthur knew this was victory. He stepped up and put his leg on his opponent’s chest. With a smile, he pushed the sword towards William’s neck and kept the point a few centimetres away. All William had to do was surrender, and victory would go to the prince.

  But William did not surrender.

  Instead, he picked up a vast fistful of sand from the arena and threw it in Arthur’s face. When the prince was left coughing, William jumped up while kicking his stomach, and picked up his sword from the ground. A twirl of his wrist, and the sword locked itself on the prince’s and then sent it flying away to the other side of the arena. Now, in the instant that Arthur had been left confused, William had taken the upper hand.

  When he finally came to his senses, all the prince could see was the sword aimed at his throat. His own sword was many meters away, and there was no hope of getting it. He gulped and put his hands up in shame. Arthur could not believe this had happened to him. He could not conceive that he had been at the receiving end of such an embarrassing thrashing by this 17-year-old boy.

  Arthur declared surrender, and the crowd cheered. William Artback had won the match, and there was no doubt that he was now the greatest swordsman in the world. Nobody could match him, not even the prodigal Prince Arthur Cross. Because of this, with absolutely no celebration or acknowledgement, Arthur left the tournament and returned home all alone.

  It is said that for the next two years, the young prince locked himself in his room and never touched a sword again.

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  Arthur looked at the curtains on his window and sighed. It had been years since he had seen the view beyond them, but he did not care. He did not wish to see the world anymore. They would just make fun of him. They would just laugh in the face of his confidence. He had been so loud about how grand his strength was, and then got humbled by a man just four eyes his superior.

  There was no coming back from such shame. He went back to his bed and slept on the fluffy mattress that had been set up last week. Some trade delegation from another kingdom had brought it along with them as a sign of goodwill, and the King had immediately asked everyone to put it in Arthur’s room. He claimed that it was because his son should have all the comforts in the world.

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  Arthur knew the truth, though. His father was also making fun of him. He was saying that ‘all he does is sleep all day, so he might as well sleep well.’

  But it was quite comfortable, so nothing else mattered. He buried his face in the feather pillow and sighed. He wanted to have some apples, but he also did not want to move. He hadn’t had apples in a year now. How sweet, they used to be. Arthur pushed himself up and stretched his arms. Pulling his knees close to his chest, he rested his head on them and decided to go to sleep like this.

  A revolt against his father’s chastising. Ha!

  “Prince!”

  A knock on his door broke his bubble of comfort. But he did not reply. If he did not reply, then they would eventually give up and go away.

  “Prince! Please open the door. Please?”

  What was wrong? His attendant always did this, but his words had never been so hurried and painful. It was as if something had gone wrong, and there was no way to get it right unless he replied.

  “Prince? It will be great trouble if you don’t open the door. Please open it. I do not want to die!”

  Arthur shot out of his bed, put on his robes, and ran to the door. He held on to the latches for a second, but then immediately slid them open. It was true that he did not want to see anyone’s face, but it was also true that he loved his attendant. He was a good man and did not deserve anything bad to happen to him.

  As the door opened, a sight he had never seen before filled his eyes.

  Standing at the door was his attendant, obviously. But around his neck was an arm clad in a flowing peach dress. The owner of that arm was standing right beside him, with a knife pressed into his neck. Her long blonde hair and pretty black eyes now looked into Arthur’s very soul, but the smile on her face betrayed the little scene that she had set up.

  “Very well, you may go. Good job, Godot.”

  She handed over the knife to the attendant, gave him a pat on the back, and he quickly left the scene. Before Arthur could close the door in a hurry, she stepped in and immediately made herself at home by looking at every single item inside, and then quickly moving to the curtains.

  “By the gods, you are quite a vampire, aren’t you?”

  She slid the curtain open with a quick movement. As the sunlight spilled in, Arthur groaned and moved to her. Before he could get her, however, she had opened every single curtain in the room. Eventually, he got to her and held her wrist in his hand.

  “Who are you? What do you want?”

  “If you could actually open your eyes instead of having them squinted because of the light, you might actually notice who I am.”

  “Shut up, and speak. You dare come into my room and act like it is yours?”

  She yawned, “Ah, that’s a good mattress. Seems comfortable. Did a trade delegation bring that to you? I think they came to us, too.”

  The girl loosened her hand and started moving again. Arthur wasn’t sure how she was able to do that, but he quickly went after her again, but then stopped. She had shamelessly plopped herself down on the bed and was pressing the bed to see just how soft it was.

  “Just answer my question. Who are you?”

  She shook her head in disappointment, “Ten years, and you’ve already forgotten the greatest human being to have ever lived, have you?”

  The memories came flooding in at once. There was just one other person who had ever told him that. Who had ever been arrogant enough to stand in front of someone as talented as him and then declare that she was the one who was actually the greatest human being to ever live? An unprecedented show of disrespect that he had thought he would never forget.

  “Celia Ingram?” He took her name like it was a curse.

  “Oh, his brain works!” She stood up and put a hand on his chin. Moving his head around like a toy, she laughed and then started moving around the room once more.

  This time, he did not follow her. All he could do was look. She was the same age as him – right around 15. But she looked so much more refined and controlled. In contrast, he was still wearing his bedclothes with a robe over them. What a disgraceful look. But to think that the princess of a neighbouring kingdom, who had been a frequent visitor during his childhood, would return once more after all this time.

  Celia moved to the massive cloth covering something at the edge of his room, and pulled it away to reveal a pile of swords. Arthur gasped. He had promised himself that he would never see those again. That he would never lay his eyes on something that had brought him so much shame. But she had come in so gracelessly and stolen that from him. She went further and picked two up.

  One, she played with tricks with in her right hand. The second, she quietly slid over to Arthur until it landed on his feet. Little did she know, he was not going to pick it up. He would never pick it up. It would just be a joke. People would laugh at him for even trying to do that again.

  But she left him no choice very soon after that.

  Before he could even decide what was going on, or settle down his emotions, Celia came rushing forward. Her sword was aimed at his stomach, and the speed at which she was attacking would mean certain death. Arthur stayed his ground. No amount of aggression would make him break his vow. If death came, let it. He did not want to feel the hilt of a sword again. She came closer, and closer. Her blade was shining in the sunlight that hadn’t touched his room in years.

  As if out of instinct, Arthur kicked the sword up, held the handle mid-air, and blocked.

  The clash sent waves around the room. Mostly, into his own hand. It shook with the sudden awakening that had been stuck in his body for so many years.

  “Are you fucking insane?” He screamed.

  “Am I?”

  Celia withdrew and attacked once more. He blocked. She attacked again, and he blocked again. Before he knew it, Arthur was hopping around every corner of his room as she pressed on him. It did not matter where he went. She followed him and tried to swing her sword at his stomach. On top of the bed, jumping over the table, playing with the closet doors, and behind the mirror. It was like he was introducing her to every single facet of the room he had been so familiar with in the last two years.

  And she did not quit. Celia Ingram was relentless with her attacks.

  “Why are you doing this? Leave me alone!”

  “I come back after ten years, and Arthur Cross is sulking in his room because he lost a single match. What a bitch!”

  “Leave me alone! I do not want to pick a sword up, ever again. Let me go!”

  “Then let it fall. And then you fall. How about that?”

  “I don’t wanna die! Shut up, Celia. What is wrong with you?”

  “Oh, I could ask you the same question, but I am not doing that, am I?”

  “Yeah, because you are a crazy witch who knows nothing except violence and death and beating people up. Who beats up a five-year-old boy for stealing a single grape? Did your mother drop you on your head as a baby?”

  “And who cries over getting beaten up by a five-year-old girl? You’re the legendary, prodigal prince, right? What happened to him? Well, at least it makes sense to cry over being beaten by someone older than you. I could say you’ve actually grown. From a little bitch, to a big bitch. But still a crying bitch.”

  “Celia, watch your mouth. I have been very respectful towards you!”

  She cornered him into a wall, with her sword at his chest.

  “Have you?”

  “Well, I did start with something much less respectful. But please, calm down. I do not want to fight you.”

  She smiled, “Will you get out of the room and come to walk around Helonia with me?”

  “Why…are you so…much? Just leave me alone. What is wrong with you? Let me do whatever I want with my life.”

  A flush spread across her face, and her eyes softened with emotion. Then, pressing her sword a little deeper until it was touching his skin and threatening to cut through, she whispered, “If you lose yourself, then who will I love?”

  The redness shot through Arthur’s face as well. The blood started to flow down his chest, but he did not care. All he could do was whisper back, “Huh?”

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  Six years later, Prince Arthur Cross and Princess Celia Ingram got married.