"To Prince Ezri, who has been a valuable hunting companion these last few days and an astute counselor. Your land is summoning you back, and it is with a lot of regret that we have to let you go." Bantu's baritone voice echoed through the dining room.

He sat upon a massive, intricated golden chair overlooking his companions, spreading out on both sides. He glanced to his right where his dear daughter remained, clothed in a velvet lilac flowy dress. Her skin glowed under the burning oil, scattering on the tables supported by golden chandeliers.

He gave her an expectant gaze, and Amaya sighed softly before saying, "You will be greatly missed, Prince Ezri." He threw her a blinding smile, and her lips tightened. Bantu raised a golden cup with the image of a sun engraved on it. "To Prince Ezri," he shouted, and it echoed in a choir as a dozen cups rose over a stream of the finest dishes that one would only find inside the castle's walls.

Eager lips were painted with rich velvet liquor before the voice of the Prince rose. "I would like to thank His Royal Highness, The King of Ornuv, for his gracious welcome and, of course, Her Royal Highness for giving me her time kindly," Erzi declared. His amber gaze found Amaya's as he conveniently sat in front of her front. He stared at her intensely, and Amaya found solace in her golden plate. The King hummed appreciatively.

"Unfortunately, Mias is calling me back. I wish it was for my mere presence, but duties lay ahead," Ezri explained, raising chuckles from across the table. "However, I would be back and eagerly so." He once again glanced at the Princess, and her lean fingers slowly tightened over the puffiness of her skirt below the table as she forced a curve on her rosy lips under the heavy stares of the guests.

"We can't wait to have you back." Amaya's cheeks hurt from spreading her mouth so tightly.

"Now," Bantu exclaimed, "Before the supper begins. Ezri has an announcement to make." The King nodded at the Prince, and all eyes fell on him as he stood up, his chair scraping the floor. He cleared his throat and rounded the long table in long strides under the heavy silence englobing the room.

He landed at the feet of Amaya's chair with a fire in his eyes that she had never seen before. Her eyes widened as realization fell upon her. His knee fell on the ground, spurring a gasp from a fleshy noble whose mouth, red like an apple in spring, imitated the color of her strands.

Ezri's hopeful eyes met Amaya's bewildered ones. This wasn't happening. Not now.

He grabbed her hand. It was moist and sweaty, but she couldn't let it go. She was frozen, captured in the moment. Ezri scraped his throat. "I have spent the most wonderful days here with you." A rush of blood shot straight to the Princess's head.

Lily gasped. "Oh, Sun God."

"I know that I need to prove myself to you more, but the moment I landed my eyes on your angelic face, I knew I wouldn't be able to look at anyone else." If Amaya's jaw could dislocate, it would be on the floor. "You-"

Red lips and hair fawned, interrupting Erzi briefly before his voice, sweet and suave like honey, went on. Amaya's heart beat like a hammer. "You have stolen my heart and conquered all my being." Amaya's eyebrows tightened together. Was he really doing this?

Lily's hand landed on her chest, as her expression melted on the table. On the other side, Commander Zakrus's face contorted as if he was witnessing the bloodiest slaughter of his entire life.

"Therefore..." Ezri removed a box from his pocket and opened it to reveal a silver ring with a blue sparkling sapphire topping it. It reflected against Amaya's dark rounded eyes. "Would you become my wife and reign with me over Mias and Ornuv?" he breathed out, his gaze sparkling with hope.

Amaya was rooted into place, all her limbs tied by that question. She stared at Lily, seeking an escape, but her eyes were red-rimmed and blurry. She then turned to her Father, whose gaze was a silent order. She looked back at Ezri, hanging on to Amaya's answer.

There was no escape.

She swallowed thickly before opening her mouth.

**

The news spread across the country in the flash of a day, inserting itself inside cities and even rumbling the countryside's homes.

Princess Amaya of Ornuv was to marry the Prince of Mias.

Villagers and city-dwellers all shared a piece of their minds. While some showed their enthusiasm -it would mean that Ornuv had a chance to make it out of this curse putting the country in a deep winter state. Some believed the Kingdom was heading straight to its doom. They thought the Sun God would not tolerate Ornuv trying to bypass its decision of taking the Favor back and that His rage would strike with all its might. Others grumbled about the cost of the wedding and the resources required to make it as grand as it was announced.

However, the lingering feeling was that the King should have avoided this situation in the first place, hovered over every reticent and disapproving whisper.

The news slipped into all ears, even inside those who didn't want to be reached.

Lach's spoon stirred his bowl as he let the conversation between the maids and servants lulled him. They were sharing a stew inside the servant's kitchen, a murky and dark room in the castle's depths.

"Do you think the wedding will occur in Ornuv or Mias?" A maid asked, her eyes blue glittering.

"I believe it would be in Mias." Another chimed in. Her tight bun gave her a stern accentuating her wrinkles. "They have the sun all year long and beautiful endless scenery. Nothing like here." She snorted. "If they want it to be as grandiose as they wish, Ornuv is not the place for that."

A huff. "How do you even know that?" A servant leaning against a table asked.

"We all know that Mias is blessed by the Sun God, for they weren't involved in the war," the maid with the bun shrugged. She turned to Lach. "What do you think about it, Stableman?"

"Hum?" Lach looked up to see all eyes on him. "I..." He had heard the news from the King himself when he sent Ezri away with congratulations that morning. The Princess was there too. She hadn't spared him a glance. He frowned deeply. "I don't think anything," he uttered at last. When the stares intensified on him, he took a spoonful of his stew. The taste was bitter in his mouth, and he swallowed it with difficulty.

"Well, I believe the Princess wasn't so happy about it," The servant stated. "I was serving when Ezri proposed during dinner." He glanced around before his voice dropped. "Her tongue was stuck in her mouth for so long we all thought she was frozen to death." Lach raised his gaze under his falling dark strands.

"She must have been afraid. She is young and hasn't known any men yet. Poor thing." The blue-eyed maid drawled out.

A snort. "Poor thing? Lucky thing. You mean. Prince Ezri is the best suitor she can get," Tight Bun declared. Lach's spoon clashed with the wooden bowl, drawing eyes on him. He looked away.

"But...What about her lover?" The other maid asked. Lach's spoon stopped halfway to his mouth.

"What lover?"

"The one the Princess sneaks around to meet?"

"In the stables?" The servant blurted out, and Lach almost spat out the liquid in his mouth. All eyes turned back to him again.

"Do you know anything, Stableman?" Big blue eyes stared at him intensely, and Lach shook his head as he wiped his mouth. "I thought you would. She spends so much time there that..." She drawled out before her eyes widened at Lach as the realization settled inside their bones.

"It's not-"The spoon slipped from Lach's hand into the bowl, splattering drops around him.

"It can't be. This is grotesque." The servant burst into laughter, followed by the agreeing laugh of the two maids. Lach frowned deeply.

The door burst open, and the Steward came in and eying all the workers. "Go back to work immediately!" His eyes narrowed upon staring at the stableman. "You too."

They all scurried away, and Lach headed to the stable. He breathed deeply once outside, but something heavy still pressured his chest.

**

Amaya's head had been in a haze since last night. Everything spurred in a flash. Before she even understood, she had a heavy diamond pushed over her finger. Every person she crossed paths with since then congratulated her heavily. And though she wanted to scream at everyone, all she could muster was a smile as tight as her chest. That suffocating sensation took over again. Before it could manifest in her losing her mind, she decided to go to the only place where she wouldn't want to tear every piece of her hair.

She breathed out as soon as she stepped into the stable and heard the neighing of the majestic beasts all around her. A grunt drew her gaze to the back of the room. The stableman was piling hay on the side, pitchfork in hand and sweat beading on his forehead. Something appeased her chest, and she paused, taking it all in.

The hard lines of the stableman's forearms stick out from the cramped sleeves of his seemingly always stained shirt. The fabric was now wholly drenched with his zealous labor and sticking to his skin. Warmth spread over Amaya's body, and she shifted her weight on her other leg. Sweat pouring from his neck ran down to his back, showing the flexing and tightness of his back muscles through the drenched and sheer fabric.

Amaya swallowed thickly as she tilted her head to the side. Something about the stableman always drew a familiar feeling to her, as if he was a lost jewel she had just found back.

The sharp sound of the pitchfork brought her back. Lach mercilessly deepened that pitchfork in the hay as if it had done something unforgiving to him. It sank again and again under harsh grunts that spur a frown from the Princess.

She approached, her steps muffled by Lach attacking the hay. She stopped just before him. "What did that poor hay do to you stableman?"

The jump Lach performed was a sight to behold. The man almost touched the wooden roof with the top of his head before falling down, bottom first into the pile of hay, and as if he wasn't chastised enough, the pitchfork dropped straight on his forehead in a mission to avenge the hay from the stableman's mistreatment. A low painful groan escaped from Lach.

The scene stirred a gasp from the Princess before it morphed into a melodious chuckle. Lach's face contorted into pain, and the laugh died down. "Oh, Sun God," she kneeled before the groggy man with his eyes shut tight with the pain. She extended a hand, but Lach turned his face away. Amaya slowly retrieved her hand, too stunned to say anything.

The stableman stood up with another groan before throwing the pitchfork to the side. It echoed across the stable so loudly that even the horses quietened.

Under his matted hair, a scarlet bump had sprung on the pale skin. The chuckle escaping Amaya couldn't be prevented even if she had been threatened not to. Lach scowled. "I am so sorry," she said in the middle of her uncontrollable giggle. "Are you alright?" the man responded with a deeper scowl, and the sound died back in her throat. She cleared her throat. "What is the matter with you?" The silent treatment was a novelty that she didn't want to be accustomed to. She reached for her pendant.

The man dusted himself up, features tensed and lips locked like a safe, hands rubbing on his linen pants before finding that vivid point in his forehead. He hissed.

Amaya worried her lips, regret churning in her stomach. "Let me see."

She reached forward again, but the man's head jerked to the side. As if the touch was made of scorching fire. Amaya's hand stood in the air for a frozen moment before it dropped down next to her skirt. "What is with you? You lost your tongue?" she asked with a smirk that was wiped down as the stableman's features tightened. "Lach?"

"Your Highness," he started still without sparing her a glance. "I am trying to do my work, not get into trouble."

She blinked. "You won't have any," She said softly, trying to appease a tension that should have never been there in the first place. Lach's features were so tensed something told her it had nothing to do with the bump on his forehead. She searched for his gaze, which was stubbornly stuck on the floor. The stableman dropped into a squat, lips as stubborn as his gaze. He retrieved the mistreated pitchfork before letting his sharp teeth sink back into the coarse plant.

Amaya blinked quickly, wondering if the scene before her was real or a fragment of her imagination. "I see." She crossed her arms. "I thought we were friends, but apparently, I misunderstood." Disappointment laced her voice, and Lach's grip tightened around the wood stick. "This-"

He spun around. "I am a simple stableman, your Highness. I work for you, for the Crown. Nothing more, nothing less," he blurted out, finally looking at her with a sort of disdain mixed with something she couldn't decipher, but that made her stomach drop. "And it's better it remains like this." He looked away.

Amaya's eyebrows pulled up. The comment stung more than it should have, and something ugly stirred into her, resentment, anger, or sadness? Maybe a mix of all of them. She gathered herself back before opening her mouth. "Don't worry, it will remain like that," she agreed, tone full of venom. Lach flinched but remained silent, his knuckles white over his grip.

Amaya's breath held as she waited for a sign, a word, a contest. Something. Anything. "Don't you have anything to say?" she finally said, fidgeting with her pendant.

Lach raised his gaze to her under his wet strands. "Congratulations on your engagement. Princess."

Amaya's lips tightened before she spun around and strode away, ignoring the plea of Aurora for a caress.

When the tip of her flowing dress disappeared behind the stable doors, Lach let go of the pitchfork and flopped down on the hay with a sigh, fingers rubbing the place between his eyes.