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geekgirles · 14 days ago

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The Doll and the Dragon

Chapter 13: Where Everything Blossoms

Word Count: 19,334

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Chapter Summary: "Amalia, Yugo, Adamaï and the other volunteering members of the Council of Six finally arrive at the Sadida Kingdom. Their stay at the lungs of the World of Twelve promises to be filled with surprises. From exploring the kingdom and interacting with its kind but eccentric denizens, to properly meeting the members of the Royal Family at long last, could it be possible the Eliatropes and Sadida will be able to forge a powerful alliance? And what secrets does Amalia's ancestral home hide? One thing is for certain; this is bound to be a teaching experience for all parties involved."

The first thing she registered was the sound of birds singing, followed shortly after by gasps echoing all around her, all before she even had the chance to open her eyes. But when they did flutter open, widening in awe as joy overtook her whole being, she couldn’t help but take a sharp inhale of breath herself.

Green. Everywhere she looked, all she could see was an all-encompassing mantle of green so vibrant, it put a thousand sunsets to shame.

“This is…incredible!” Nora exclaimed, voice breathy and pink eyes sparkling at the world around her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a forest this grand, not even in our homeworld.” Efrim admitted, his voice merely above a whisper, sapphire eyes looking around.

Much to his chagrin, as he thought he would be the only one capable of keeping a straight head in unfamiliar land, the young dragon found himself wholeheartedly agreeing with his sister. If this was the Sadida Kingdom, then perhaps it would truly do them some good to ally themselves with them.

“Say, Qilby.” His long neck swivelled over to face the eldest Eliatrope, looking for answers. “Do you remember there ever being anything like this back home?”

“For once I must agree with your assessment, Little Brother.” He said quietly, adjusting his glasses as he, too, craned his head back to get a better look. “In all my years, I have never seen anything quite like this.” A placid smirk spread across his lips at the realisation. Apparently, this old rock still had some things to keep his mind entertained, however briefly.

“Dear Eliatrope…” Phaeris breathed out, just as mesmerised as his siblings. He was only broken out of his trance when Adamaï clasped a claw on his shoulder. When he turned to look at his brother, he found him smiling.

“Bet now you’re glad you came. Right, Phaeris?”

He frowned slightly. “Phaeris was already glad he came if it meant he could help protect his people and siblings. But…” He averted his eyes as his wings ruffled sheepishly. “Phaeris admits the scenery definitely serves as an incentive.”

Yugo watched their interaction from his place close to Amalia, chuckling at Phaeris’ proud awkwardness and rolling his eyes. Thank Eliatrope, the Ochre dragon was still one of the most level-headed Council members even without Mina around. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he had to wrestle any more egos clashing when he already had to deal with Efrim’s difficult personality, Qilby’s eccentricities, and Nora’s impish playfulness.

With a soft shake of his head, he turned his attention back to the Divine Doll, curious to see her reaction.

His heart skipped a beat at the pure, unadulterated glee on her face.

Amalia vaguely heard the Eliatropes’ own awestruck reactions all around her, yet even though it filled her with a deep sense of satisfaction to know that her people’s homeland had managed to impress them so, she couldn’t take her eyes off the verdant canvas spreading all around her. She even had to spin on herself just to try and take it all in, not wanting to miss a single thing.

This place was Inglorium on the World of Twelve!

It wasn’t just the lush foliage that caught her eye, it was the way it gave way to rich browns so seamlessly as leaves became bark. It was the velvet-like feel of the grass underneath her bare feet, so long and springy, like a cosy blanket in the middle of winter, that she had to fight down the urge to flop herself on top of it and roll around like an overstimulated Bow Wow.

It was the way the Sadida breathed and lived nature in everything they did.

As they leisurely made their way to their destination, Amalia’s eyes roamed over the architecture, the people, the beauty of it all! To the Sadida, the forests were life in all senses of the world. Not only were they deeply connected to them or even became ones with them upon death, but the Sadida Kingdom was carved into every crevice of them, too. Every single house and shop in the area were tucked away in wooden huts decorated with leafy roofs, while the greater buildings were carved into the tallest and largest trees. When they walked underneath one particularly imposing pine, they all had to crane their necks in amazement as they gazed up at the wooden bridges arching overhead.

Every time she crossed a Sadida’s look, she could see herself reflected in them. From the familiar mahogany skin and emerald hair, to the masterful use of leaves, flowers, and natural fabrics as clothes and accessories. At some point she had to place her hand over her chest, afraid that her heart would leap out of her ribcage in joy at the sight of a group of small children and their dolls that waved at her as she passed.

The further into the kingdom, the more attention they drew to themselves. All around them, the Sadida that were out and about, carrying on with their lives, would drop everything they were doing and observe their march, the same eyes she saw every day when she looked in the mirror full of wonder.

The moment they realised they were in the presence of the famous Eliatrope Council and, more importantly, the new Divine Doll they had heard so much about, their curiosity morphed into excitement. In a matter of seconds, every Sadida—man or woman, young or old, shopper or vendor—had instinctively formed a crowd that lined up around their esteemed visitors.

While the Eliatropes politely greeted them back, offering friendly waves—as befitting of Yugo, Adamaï, and Nora—, or courteous nods—as expected of Qilby, Efrim, and Phaeris—, the happiness Amalia felt radiating off of her entire being in waves could not be described.

“They certainly seem welcoming.” She heard Efrim murmur, his voice a whisper that, even so, didn’t fully conceal his apparent disbelief.

“Well, of course they are!” Came Qilby’s voice. There was something about it she couldn’t quite decipher. It sounded genuine enough, and at the same time, derisive? “These are Amalia’s people. It’s only natural they’d be as welcoming and kind-hearted as her.”

“You got that right, Qilby.” Was Yugo’s tender reply.

She didn’t have to turn around to know he was looking at her. She could even picture him with that affectionate look of his that never failed to make her melt. The butterflies that had made her stomach their home took flight and sent goosebumps down her spine as she grew lightheaded.

Oh, why did whatever it was she felt around Yugo have to be such sweet torture?!

“Whatever the case,” Adamaï chimed in. “You can’t exactly blame them for being proud of their culture. This place is simply remarkable!”

A deep longing enveloped her then, squeezing her heart in the most bittersweet hug.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t come to greatly appreciate Oma Island over her stay there. If anything, the Eliatropes’ chosen home had a special kind of understated beauty that could only be traced back to its tropical marvels. Between its natural splendour and the Eliatropes’ own touch as they made themselves at home, Oma Island was indeed a sight to behold in itself.

One that would not leave the Twelvians indifferent if only they gave it a chance.

But now that she was here, in the very kingdom that was solely dedicated to her father’s teachings. Now that she found herself surrounded by vegetation, so much so she breathed in and, rather than air, her lungs filled with nature. Now that she could at long last hear plant-life’s call loud and clear, rather than mere murmurs, and listen closely to its secrets that it practically screamed at the top of the rooftops. Now that wherever she looked she saw people just like her…

Now she couldn’t help but feel finally at home.

Almost as if those wayward thoughts had been uttered like a spell, she felt it again.

Stronger than ever.

It echoed in the chambers of her heart, sending the Ogrine-made organ into a frenzy. It resonated deep within her skull like the ringing of a bell, causing her eyes to snap open as she frantically searched for the origin of the strange force.

Her accelerated heart didn’t calm down; couldn’t calm out. It was as if that mysterious thread she tried to follow a few weeks back had found her instead and twirled itself around her very being before pulling, tugging her forwards and leading her to parts unknown. She had the impression her heart was about to leave her body as that thread kept tugging and tugging at it.

And the strangest thing of all was how tempted she was to let it happen, how much she trusted an overwhelming energy of unknown origin.

Just as she was about to fully succumb to temptation and let herself be taken away, Yugo’s voice broke her out of her daze.

“Amalia, are you okay?”

Just like that, the connection tapered off. And yet, it didn’t fully disappear; she could still feel its presence in the confines of her mind, lurking in the shadows like a beast waiting for the perfect moment to pounce on its unsuspecting prey.

“Wh-what?” She blinked away the confusion, looking up to see the Eliatrope King.

Her heart squeezed yet again, only this time in sympathy, at the deep concern that kept his features taut, his brow knitted as he stared down at her.

“Are you okay?” He repeated. “You looked a little frazzled there for a moment.”

Her cheeks warmed when his finger grazed her skin and he delicately tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. For a moment, she considered telling him everything was fine, since she didn’t even know how to explain the strange energy she had been sensing sporadically in the past few months. But then, she remembered their promise, the very same she had reminded him of just a short two weeks ago to encourage him to be honest with her.

She couldn’t in good conscience hide anything from him.

Just as she opened up her mouth to speak, trying to ignore the curious glances their companions were sending their way, she was interrupted by a raspy, yet jovial, voice:

“Lady Amalia! We have been awaiting you!”

Yugo and Amalia barely had enough time to get out of the way as a flash of green came barrelling down and collided against Efrim. The doll had to use every ounce of self-control she possessed not to break down laughing at the sight.

A long bearded Sadida man dressed in a fine tunic and holding an even more elaborate cane than Glip’s was currently squeezing the living daylights out of Efrim. It was extremely satisfying to see the usually scowling, intimidating dragon sport a look of utter bewilderment, not helped by the perplexed reactions of everyone around him. Although Amalia couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the resigned, if not downright pained, expressions of the Sadida around them as they watched the display.

The man, blissfully unaware of the looks his strange behaviour elicited, seemed to be lost in his own little world. As he fussed over Efrim, who looked more disgruntled by the second, he kept singing ‘Lady Amalia’s’ praises. The ridiculousness of the situation not helped by the fact that dragon in question also happened to have a serpent-like tail instead of legs.

“Oh, Sadida! Your skin sure is as coarse as sequoia bark, my Lady! As expected of one of Sadida’s Divine Dolls!” He gushed, running his hands up and down the length of the poor dragon’s arms. “To say nothing of your lean yet strong physique! My, what a beauty you are!”

After a few more agonising seconds where the obviously disoriented Sadida kept gushing over Efrim, refusing to let his poor, unsuspecting victim get a word in edgewise, a member of their audience took pity on the dragon.

“Uh, Chamberlain Thickdruft?” A woman cleared her throat, finally getting the chamberlain to pay attention to her. She pointed to where the doll stood. “Lady Amalia is over there.”

Amalia, seeing her cue, waved her hand innocently with a smile. “Uh, hello. Nice to meet you, sir.”

The movement of his bushy green eyebrows, the clear source of his lack of vision, indicated the man just blinked in shock. He repeatedly swiveled his hairy head between the doll and the dragon, back and forth, his long beard whipping around with the abrupt motion. After a beat, he seemed to realise his mistake.

“Lady Amalia! It brings us so much joy to see you have decided to join us!” He cried out jovially, his arms spread wide. Then, just as quickly, he swirled back around towards Efrim, an accusatory finger pointed straight at the flinching dragon. “How dare you try to impersonate Her Grace? Have you no shame?!”

While a still recovering Efrim could only gape after the man, Nora and even Qilby trying to offer him some comfort, Chamberlain Thickdruft stepped forward and linked his arm in the crook of Amalia’s elbow and tugged her forward, her entourage trailing after them. All Yugo could do was blink rapidly in disbelief at their retreating backs. He shared a confused look with Adamaï.

“Would it be rude to suggest he get a haircut?” The dragon deadpanned from a safe distance.

“I’m willing to give him one for free myself…” Efrim grumbled, his sharp claws out. Only to be stopped from doing anything rash by one of Phaeris’ wings.

“Must Phaeris remind you we are here on a diplomatic mission?” He said sternly, his brows knitted together. “Phaeris might not have Qilby and Shinonomé’s memory, but he is pretty sure unnecessary aggression is the opposite of diplomacy.”

The youngest dragon sheathed his claws back in with a huff. “Fine. But if anybody else intrudes upon my personal space or accuses me of impersonating the Divine Doll, so help me.”

“Fair enough.” Nora commented. “Now, let’s get a move on before the blind man leaves us in his dust!” Then, much more sweetly, she called over to the aforementioned ‘blind man’, “Excuse me, Chamberlain Thickdruft? Where exactly are you taking us?”

The man sent her a sideway glance. That’s what she thought, at least. The sheer amount of hair on his face made it impossible to determine his expression.

“Why, to the palace, of course! His Majesty King Oakheart has been eagerly awaiting your arrival!”

Amalia perked up at the revelation. Helpless to stop herself, almost by instinct, her eyes trailed back to the most imposing, most majestic building in the entire kingdom—a centuries-old oak tree that oversaw the land around it.

“Will the king be waiting for us in the banquet hall?” She asked, her mind tracing back to Bonta. Her brow furrowed in confusion at the Sadida’s shake of his head.

“Not quite, my Lady.” He began, his cane thumping rhythmically against the ground as they walked. “While the festivities in your honour will be held in the ballroom, His Majesty has expressed his desire to meet you and the Eliatrope court in a more personal and intimate setting first. Thus, I shall guide you to the throne room, where he awaits.”

“He wishes to meet us ‘in a more personal and intimate setting’, yet he plans to greet us in the room where the biggest symbol of his status resides?” Qilby pointed out sarcastically. “That’s essentially like reminding us who’s in charge around here.”

“He is the king, Qilby. And these are his domains.” Yugo reminded him pointedly. Seriously, the fact that they were having this conversation at all was ridiculous. “Or did you forget how every time Master Joris has come to Oma Island, we always welcomed him inside the throne room?”

“You know I could never forget, dear Brother.” Qilby warned, his eyes turning dark as he glared at his king. Then, as soon as it came, it was gone. “And you seem to be forgetting how Master Joris always invites himself into our throne room without so much of a warning.” He pointed out matter-of-factly.

“My point still stands.”

“Girls, girls! You’re both pretty, can we please move on?” Nora chimed in with an exasperated roll of her eyes.

Their grumbled ‘Fine’s were all the answer she needed.

From her position leading their little entourage alongside Chamberlain Thickdruft, Amalia looked over her shoulder as the Eliatropes bickered, her brow furrowed in slight concern. She was so focused on making sure Nora prevented things from escalating that, with a yelp, she almost tumbled forward and straight to the ground when their guide abruptly halted.

“And we have arrived!” He declared, using his large cane to gesture at the majestic tree before them as they all came to stop at its base. “The Royal Palace! The crown jewel of Sadida architecture.” Taking on a scholarly role, he turned to address his bewildered audience. For a moment, the Council members present couldn’t help but be reminded of one of Glip and Baltazar’s lectures. “You might not know this, oh, esteemed guests, but while the Sadida Kingdom has been around nearly since the gods found our world, it wasn’t until King Xylem Sheran Sharm, the founder of the Sadida line of Sheran Sharms, ascended to the throne and planted this very tree that it became the palace.”

While impossible to see from a distance, he turned with watery eyes at the gigantic oak and murmured, his voice full of awe, “And what a great gift it was…”

“Fascinating…” Qilby mused aloud. His fingers stroked his goatee as hazel eyes studied the building more closely.

While the Eliatrope Council had varied reactions to the chamberlain’s story beyond their eldest’s near obsessive interest for new information, Nora narrowed her pink gaze on the broad tree trunk. Her brows knitted together in confusion at what she saw—or rather, at what she didn’t see.

“Uh… Chamberlain Thickdruft?”

“Yes, Lady Nora?” He responded without even turning around, leaving their guests numbstruck. Especially when not even fifteen minutes before he somehow thought a scaly dragon was his god’s child.

“How… How did you—?! Never mind.” She massaged her temples. “How are we supposed to enter the palace?”

The Sadida’s bushy eyebrows furrowed. “What a strange question… Why, through the door, of course!”

“But… there’s no door.” Adamaï came to his sister’s rescue, trying to clue the man in. Could it be that he was actually blind and not just in need of a haircut? Or maybe crazy? Or blind and crazy?

“Oh, the door we’ll be using isn’t here.” He said matter-of-factly, as if that explained everything.

It didn’t.

“Um, where exactly?” This time it was Yugo who ventured. A quick glance the doll’s way was enough to confirm even Amalia was at a loss as to what the man was trying to get at.

Thickdruft raised one bony finger and pointed upwards. “It is up, of course.”

“Sadida can fly?” Efrim leaned over Phaeris to whisper in his ear. In response, the wise and conciliatory Ochre dragon just shrugged his shoulders up and down, his wings stretching with the movement.

“Beats Phaeris.”

In the face of the chamberlain’s cryptic answers, an equally confused Amalia kept looking back and forth between the man and the nonexistent door. Finally, she craned up her neck in search of the mysterious entrance. She had to squint her eyes as the sun filtering through the treetops momentarily blinded her, but after blinking the black spots impairing her vision away, she could finally make out what appeared to be the underside of a large platform located high up in the tree trunk.

A pleased grin tugged at the corner of her lips as realisation struck her.

“Guys, I think what the chamberlain is trying to say is—whoa!”

She was abruptly interrupted by Chamberlain Thickdruft snapping his fingers. In a matter of seconds, the very alarmed group of visitors found themselves engulfed by a series of gigantic pale pink petals, but before they could question what was going on or try to do something about it, a tremor sent them tumbling down.

“What the…?” Was all Yugo could get out before they all came to the realisation that their floral prison was actually a lift—and it was going up!

The Eliatrope King and his siblings all groaned from their respective positions in the heap of limbs they formed—a stark contrast to the dignified stance of both Amalia and the chamberlain. Seeing this, an offended—and bruised—Efrim snapped:

“How come you didn’t fall like the rest of us?!”

“Efrim.” Nora hissed through gritted teeth. It was a warning.

“What, did you know this would happen?”

Making a mental note to apologise to Nora later since he planned on sending her twin back to their Dofus, Yugo braced himself for the worst. Chamberlain Thickdruft was sure to note the way an Eliatrope dragon talked to the Divine Doll, or at the very least, he wouldn’t be able to miss the way Amalia was sure to flinch under Efrim’s accusatory glare.

However, she surprised them all.

Her face a perfect mask of calm and stoicism, she didn’t shrink away from his icy blue glare like she would have in the past. Rather, she met him head-on, the true emotions behind her brown orbs inscrutable.

“Admittedly, not at first.” She started, her voice even. “But the moment I saw the platform looming overhead I understood the actual entrance to the palace wasn’t on ground level, which means it can only be accessed by Flower Lift.” She gestured at the petals around them to emphasise her point. “I tried to warn you, but the chamberlain beat me to it.”

“My apologies.” Came his raspy response.

“But how come Lady Amalia didn’t fall like Phaeris and the rest did? You just said the chamberlain took you by surprise, too.”

She smirked, then. “Same reason why you are unaffected by your portals; it’s a Sadida thing.”

“And what do you mean by ‘platform’?” Qilby asked.

Just then, however, the Flower lift came to an abrupt halt, sending the recovering Eliatrope Council crashing down yet again. At the same time, the petals surrounding them fell away, one by one, revealing a vast grassy plateau lined up by wood boards forming a path that led straight to a large arch guarded by what appeared to be two Sadida soldiers.

One of them raised an intrigued eyebrow at them, while the other tilted his head.

“Oh, that platform.” Qilby deadpanned. “I see.”

With a grace unusual for his age, their bearded guide stepped off the lift and onto the platform, beckoning for his guests to follow him. “Come on, now! The throne room is just beyond this hall and we mustn’t keep the king waiting much longer!”

As her companions stepped out of the flower as well, all of them massaging whatever body part was sore, Amalia stayed behind just enough to wait for Yugo. When the king finally came to stand by her side, she gave him a good glance over.

The Eliatrope King raised an eyebrow at her odd behaviour, amused. “What are you doing?”

“Checking for injuries.” She said matter-of-factly, holding his arm by his elbow and delicately running her deft fingers up and down its length.

It took everything in Yugo’s power to push down the pleasurable shudder her ministrations caused. Or the overwhelming desire for her hands to move higher up, until she could take his hood off.

Instead, he tried to focus on keeping the conversation light-hearted with a wisecrack.

“I don’t see you doing the same for Adamaï, or Nora, or Phaeris.” He pointed out. “Can’t say I blame you for not checking up on Qilby and Efrim, though. They kinda deserve it.”

“Yeah, well, they’re not you.”

She said it so casually, so matter-of-factly, almost like she was simply listing facts. And, in a way, she was. They naturally weren’t him. And yet… There was something in the way she said those words that sent Yugo on the verge of cardiac arrest. A hidden meaning he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but desperately needed to hear from her lips nonetheless.

Just as he mustered up the courage to prod her gently about it, however, Adamaï called out to them, ignoring the looks the Sadida guards flashed at him.

“Yugo, Amalia! What are you doing?” He waved at them, his other claw cupped around his maw to better project his voice. Never mind he was only a few feet away from them… “Chamberlain Thickdruft didn’t even notice your absence and is probably halfway through the corridor.”

The moment broken, Amalia, who seemed blissfully unaware of the storm she had just stirred within the king’s body and soul, took a step back. “We should probably go.”

If she noticed how his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, she didn’t show. “Yeah, we should.”

.......................................................................................................................

They left behind that moment of unspoken tension and charged feelings, and Yugo followed after Amalia as she passed the threshold, Adamaï picking up the rear. The hall leading up to the throne room was decorated with countless wooden columns with leaves running up and down their length. Running alongside the boards forming the floor were patches of grass almost as tall as the vegetation outside. He’d heard of the expression ‘to see the forests for the trees’, but this was more like a forest inside a tree.

It wasn’t hard to understand why Amalia simply radiated happiness here. It wasn’t just her father’s worshippers’ home, the Sadida truly knew how to coexist with nature. Even he had to admit that for all his people valued all life, they didn’t hold a candle to the kind of symbiosis the Tree People of the World of Twelve had with its plant-life.

They heard Chamberlain Thickdruft before they saw him.

The bearded man was up ahead, acting as buffer between the very unimpressed members of the Council of Twelve and two sceptical-looking guards. Behind the latter stood a tear-shaped gate. However, upon further inspection, the intersecting mullion that quite literally seemed to branch out and divide the bright green panels composing the door revealed it actually represented a leaf. Eyes wandering upwards, he saw hanging above their heads a delicate yet beautiful lantern.

The Sadida were truly dedicated to the bit.

“Apologies, Chamberlain Thickdruft.” They heard one of the guards say, his voice dripping with exasperation. “But I’m afraid we cannot permit you entrance without the Divine Doll.”

The other guard sent an apologetic look the Council’s way.

“Not to say your presence is unwelcomed or irrelevant, esteemed members of the Eliatrope Council. It is simply that the Divine Doll is the guest of honour. Her presence is of utmost importance to our people.”

“Of course, we understand.” Qilby said placatingly, fighting down the urge to pull a face.

“What nonsense is this?!” The chamberlain screeched, his beard dancing around to the beat of his agitated movements. “Are you blind, you thick-rooted fools? What are you, Skrots?!”

Grumbling and huffing, he stomped over to Efrim, who flinched upon the close proximity, already fearing for the worst. His concerns were validated when, without so much as a warning, the visually impaired Sadida roughly grabbed his arm and yanked it upwards, nearly tossing the poor dragon around like a rag doll.

Which was, technically, what he was trying to do all along.

Pointing at the uncomfortable-looking dragon, he demanded, “Can you not see Lady Amalia is here with us at this very moment?! I demand you open the door at once!”

Rather than obey his orders, though, the guards just shared a bemused glance and looked forward at the group of people gathered in front of them again.

“Stemphan, I think we should call the Royal Eniripsa and have her check on the chamberlain.” The first guard, who seemed to hold the higher rank, suggested, earning himself a nod from his comrade.

“The Royal Eniripsa?!” The chamberlain cried out in outrage. “How dare you!”

“I’m here, Chamberlain Thickdruft! I’m here!” Amalia called out to them, rushing through the corridor with the Eliatrope King and his dragon twin in tow.

The trio of stragglers arrived just in time to put a stop to the screeching match and to prevent a poor Eniripsa to be bothered under the pretext of a false alarm. At the sight of the Divine Doll, the Sadida guards stationed in front of the gates straightened up, even though improving their already perfect alert stances seemed impossible, before lowering their torsos with their fists to their chests in a show of respect.

“Lady Amalia, it is our greatest honour to make your acquaintance.”

For his part, Chamberlain Thickdruft just stood where he was, his bushy eyebrows going up and down as he blinked in confusion.

“Wait, if that is Lady Amalia,” he pointed at the doll’s general vicinity, “then whose wrist am I holding?” He wondered aloud as he lifted a very annoyed Efrim’s arm to illustrate his point. The Sadida’s mane ruffled from the blow of hot air that the dragon huffed out in his face.

“The same dragon as before…” Qilby deadpanned.

In an instant, almost as if he’d been burned (which wouldn’t be inaccurate given the fact that Efrim was nearly literally fuming), the man jerked back in surprise and let go of his arm. Only to invade his personal space as he poked him in the chest crossly shortly after.

“You again! Have you learned nothing!?”

Luckily for the chamberlain, before the periwinkle dragon had the chance to take matters into his own claws and improve his eyesight by setting his beard on fire, Amalia stepped forward, tugging at the man’s robe to get his attention.

“Chamberlain Thickdruft, didn’t you say it wouldn’t be wise to keep the king waiting?”

“Huh?” He turned to her, confused. Then, the proverbial bulbshroom lit up above his head. “Oh, yes, indeed! Come along, Your Grace.” He sidestepped Amalia and placed himself in front of their little procession with the clear intention of guiding them into the throne room.

With a flourish, he ordered the guards to open the gates and began his march forward as he led the group into the sacred space.

The moment they stepped foot into the room, something shifted in the air. There were many Sadida gathered inside, which prompted Qilby to mutter how things weren’t exactly as ‘intimate’ as the king had promised, earning himself a subtle whack of Phaeris’ wing in warning. The more they advanced, the more the few murmurs and hushed voices that resonated against the walls gradually quieted down until you could hear a pin drop.

Judging from the relatively more ornate and elaborate clothing the people gathered wore, Nora quickly deduced they were probably part of King Sheran Sharm’s court, or at the very least, part of the Sadida nobility. A piece of information that she shared with her siblings telepathically.

“Just as you should have done with that little comment of yours, Qilby.” Nora reminded him pointedly. She didn’t have to look to know the rest of her brothers were glaring disapprovingly at him.

“Everybody makes mistakes.” He shrugged, completely unapologetic.

Adamaï suppressed a groan. If Yugo wanted to deck him, he wouldn’t get in the way.

As a means to ignoring his unruly family members, the Emerald dragon took to looking around the throne room, his eyes widening at what he saw and all the apparent differences between the Sadida Kingdom and Oma Island.

Besides the overwhelming presence of nature even indoors, the first thing he noticed was how dark the throne room was compared to theirs. While the Eliatrope throne was located in the far corner of a room surrounded by large portals that doubled as stained glass windows, thus giving it a more spacious and illuminated appearance under its turquoise-hued light. The Sadida throne, on the other hand, while standing in the middle of the space, was tucked away from the rest of the world, in a room with no windows through which natural light could filter.

Well, no. That was partly a lie.

There was natural light inside the room. However, it was reduced to shining down on the very throne, lighting up the imposing figure of King Sheran Sharm while simultaneously reminding everyone present who was the most important person in that room. An effective strategy, if Adamaï was being honest with himself.

But that wasn’t the only way the Sadida had to bring attention to the monarch’s status and to make him stand out from above the crowd. While easily accessible, the throne itself—a rather rudimentary chair of interwoven stumps and covered in moss—was actually separated from the kingdom’s subjects by a small pond from which it emerged on top of a small island. A path of mushrooms the size of a person’s head the only way to reach the throne.

But the most surprising and intriguing thing of all had to be the tendrils of light growing at the back of the throne, shooting up high towards the ceiling. It gave the room a truly ethereal light. After a moment’s worth of deliberating with himself, Adamaï caved and craned his neck as discreetly as he could to check if the light came from the tendrils or a window located in the ceiling.

“This is very different from how we do things at home, huh?” He heard Yugo’s voice comment idly, no doubt knowing exactly what he’d been thinking because he had most likely been thinking the same thing himself.

“You can say that again.” He murmured back. A small smile still made its way to his plump lips, though.

“But you can’t deny it’s beautiful.” Yugo teased, his eyes travelling across the space as intensely as his brother’s. “No wonder Amalia seems so enamoured with this place. The Sadida really are her father’s people.”

“That’s true.” The blue-and-white dragon conceded. “But I don’t think that’s what’s got Amalia speechless right now.” Yugo, his brows furrowed, followed the direction his twin was pointing at with his tail. He didn’t just catch the way Amalia became enraptured by what she saw, but he got to see what exactly had her in such a state.

He almost had to fight down a gulp of his own. All around him, his siblings tensed slightly as they came to the same realisation:

Chamberlain Thickruft had taken them all to the very centre of the room, where King Oakheart Sheran Sharm was placidly seated, the Royal Sadida Family at either side of him across the pond that separated them.

As much as she marvelled at the simple elegance of the throne room, trying not to get flustered at the awed reactions she received from the court, what truly caused Amalia’s breath to catch in her throat was the sight that awaited her at the base of the very throne.

Not to say King Oakheart’s presence wasn’t imposing, especially as his portly figure and considerable height loomed over them from his rightful place in the throne. But she still felt enveloped by the same kind of fatherly kindness she sensed from him back in Bonta, his friendly and proud smile bringing her back to her short-lived time with her father and sisters. For all the power the Sadida King possessed, he still radiated a soothing presence that invited her to feel at ease in his presence.

The same could not be said for the people standing opposite the small pond separating the ruler from his subjects, to his right, however.

Standing closer to his father was Prince Armand. While they didn’t get to talk much, Amalia remembered him as a composed if a little ill-tempered royal which, judging from his stern expression and the thin line of his lips, hadn’t changed since they last saw each other. Unlike his father’s calm joviality, the heir to the throne exuded an air of arrogant sophistication that was reflected by his cherry-coloured fan collar, white and red shendyt tied around his waist, and his equally cherry shin-high anklets.

His choice of outfit could not be a more clear sign that he was ready to succeed his father, according to Sadida tradition.

And yet, the prince’s demeanour wasn’t the one responsible for the way her stomach churned in apprehension. That dubious honour went to the blonde Osamodas woman wearing a dark red off-shoulder dress standing by the prince’s side. The doll also remembered her from the banquet, the suspicions she formed of her being married into the Sadida family upon seeing her in her people’s traditional garments being sadly confirmed.

While she hadn’t the ‘pleasure’ of properly introducing herself last time they were in the same room, the uneasy feeling she got at the sight of her family turned into displeasure the more she looked at her. Amalia didn’t mean to judge her without knowing her first, but she couldn’t help the spike of annoyance she felt when she got a closer look at her. Unlike the Sheran Sharms and their subjects, who clearly awaited their arrival with great eagerness, the Osamodas princess remained completely passive and aloof. While her posture was impeccable—no doubt the result of a lifetime of etiquette classes in order to stand out in high society—, apparently, she couldn’t be bothered to hide how her red eyes were dull with disinterest; almost as if she were bored by the mere idea of getting to know the child of the god her husband and his people worshipped.

The god to whom she owed the pastures her people’s animals fed off. The very same one whose domains she intended to rule one day.

Even though keeping herself from pursing her lips in distaste proved itself to be quite the challenge, the surprise the doll felt at the sight of the Sadida Royal Family paled in comparison to what had truly caught her widening eyes. She almost lamented the heavy silence, charged with anticipation, that had fallen over the room, as some whispered conversations would have been a great help at hiding the small gasp she let out.

She honestly didn’t know whether to feel grateful or mortified by the low whistle that no doubt came from Nora.

Because standing guard to the left of the king was no other than the Cra woman she bumped into at Bonta.

The more she looked at her, the more the doll had to reluctantly admit that was how the Woodland Beauty’s followers were meant to look, unlike the unsightly Matriarch and her entourage of plain-looking archers.

From her fair skin, tastefully punctuated by a series of delicate freckles on her face. To the graceful yet confident way in which she carried herself, her spine straight and her arms folded behind her back, her emerald eyes big and alert in case of any disruptions. To her soft features, framed by silky platinum blonde strands that seemed to have purposely escaped a simple bun that, somehow, managed to look orderly messy, which only heightened her beauty.

While her clothes were relatively simple—a form-fitting, white blouse that flared around her hips, matching fingerless gloves with golden hem, a pair of black pants, and shin-high leather boots—, they still highlighted her athletic and well-developed figure.

Amalia hadn’t had the chance to take a good look at her last time they saw each other, but there was no denying it. This woman was straight up gorgeous.

Something unpleasant coiled itself around the doll’s ogrine heart, its grip on the organ only getting tighter the more she stared at the Cra’s perfect proportions and realised hers didn’t quite match the archer’s. While Amalia tried to placate her wounded ego by assuring herself that she possessed the more shapely legs, there was no denying that the king’s guard (was that who she was supposed to be?) had an ample bosom, while the doll was rather petite.

Such a fact had never worried her before, but now, for some reason, she found herself stealing furtive glances Yugo’s way and wondering what he thought of the beautiful Cra in front of them. Did he think she was prettier than her?

Bile rose to her mouth at the thought, her fists clenching where she clasped her hands in front of her.

Luckily for her, before she could dwell more on those thoughts, Chamberlain Thickdruft chose that very moment to break the silence himself. The visitors from Oma could only blink in bewilderment when the old man fell to his knees, throwing himself to the ground rather than bowing.

“Your Majesty, it is with great pleasure that I present Sadida’s eleventh child to you. As well as the Eliatropes’ ruler.” With an agility that had everyone unfamiliar to him flinching in surprise, he rose to his feet and beckoned Amalia and Yugo forward. “Lady Amalia and His Majesty, King Yugo.”

Amalia and Yugo took that as their cue to properly introduce themselves. Stepping forward and closer to the throne, they took a page out of the chamberlain’s book and bowed before the king. Just not quite as… enthusiastically.

Just as they raised their heads back up, King Sheran Sharm surprised them all by letting out a hearty laugh. Once it subsided, he smiled down at the chamberlain, an eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Thank you, Chamberlain Thickdruft, for this introduction. Worry not, however, for I already had the immense pleasure of making their acquaintance at the banquet that took place a few months ago.”

Whatever the man started to mumble then was swiftly ignored the moment King Oakheart rose to his feet and began his leisurely descent down the mushroom steps. Yugo had almost forgotten how tall he was, until they were face to face and he was forcefully reminded of the fact by the sight of the Sadida ruler towering over Adamaï. A feat in itself, considering Yugo—who prided himself on his height upon finally reaching biological adulthood—wasn’t even the same height as Prince Armand, whereas his dragon twin managed to dwarf the latter thanks to his horns.

Before the Eliatrope Council and the Divine Doll even had time to register what was going on, loud gasps and shocked whispers erupted around the room.

King Oakheart had bent his body forward in a respectful bow at them.

Prince Armand was less than enthused.

“Father! They’re the outsiders!” He chided. By his side, his wife scowled in clear disapproval of the king’s actions.

“They’re our guests, Armand.” The King corrected, not even turning to look at his son. Then, raising his body, he smiled down at them all, his paternal gaze lingering on Yugo and Amalia before placing both hands on their shoulders. “And as Sadida’s daughter and his chosens to look after her, we owe them our gratitude and respect.”

Looking over the king’s shoulder, Yugo could make out how his son folded his arms over his chest crossly, his scowl deepening. In an instant, his wife was hovering over him, whispering something the Eliatrope King couldn’t hear, and wasn’t even sure he wanted to.

He chose to focus back on the more welcoming king instead.

“And we thank you for your kindness, Your Majesty. It is truly an honour to be here.”

As if on cue, the attending members of the Council of Six voiced their agreement and thanks as well, eliciting yet another pleased chuckle from the kindly king. When he settled his dark, warm gaze on his most esteemed guest, Amalia couldn’t help but smile back.

“There are truly no words to express just how much your presence means to us, Your Grace.” He said solemnly. “We sincerely hope you will all enjoy your stay here.”

Her smile never wavering, Amalia offered him a respectful nod of her own. “I am certain that we will, Your Majesty.”

They all started when, without warning, King Oakheart clasped his large palms together, the force behind the action almost strong enough to pick up wind and push them all back. The Divine Doll merely had a few seconds to blink her disorientation away before he motioned towards the people stationed around the pond with an inviting gesture.

“Please, allow me to properly introduce you to my family.” He began. Thanks to his long legs, in just a few strides he was by his son’s side, clasping a hand on his shoulder as he presented him to their guests. “As you may remember from Bonta, this is my son and heir, Prince Armand. I trust today’s affair will be a proper introduction for both of you—for you, esteemed Eliatrope Council, to our world’s politics, and for my son, to how a leader must act in the face of diplomatic envoys.”

“We have no doubt this will be a most advantageous affair, Your Majesty.” Adamaï had to stifle a chuckle at the king’s intentions, though out of genuine mirth, rather than condescension.

The Sadida Prince, on the other hand, didn’t quite take it in stride. “As you wish, Father.” Despite his deferential words, his tone was strained and resigned, almost as if he resented not being able to rebel against his father’s authority.

Yugo didn’t have much time to placate the uncomfortable knot in his stomach at the prince’s clear distaste for their presence before he found himself grimacing for completely different reasons. One stolen look in Amalia’s direction was enough to prove she wasn’t doing much better, if the way she tensed almost imperceptibly was any indication.

Because King Oakheart was now gesturing at the Osamodas woman standing alongside the prince.

“Anybody else notice how the only one who looks glad to have her here seems to be His Royal Stuck-Up-ness?”

“Qilby, not now!” Phaeris had to content himself with chiding his brother, knowing he couldn’t swat him with his wings without causing a scene.

“Uh… It wasn’t me.” The bespectacled Eliatrope scowled behind his glasses. He masterfully slid them back up to hide his expression from the Sadida. “That was actually Nora.”

“Can confirm it.” Efrim chimed in, his twin sister’s voice resonating more loudly in his head than their siblings’ due to their bond.

At that, Phaeris actually looked chagrined. “Sorry, force of habit.”

“Pipe it down, you three!” Adamaï snapped at them. It would be pointless to go through these introductions if they completely missed them because they were talking amongst themselves.

Although, there was no denying Nora had a point. The only ones who seemed even slightly approving of the prince’s wife being introduced to them were the woman in question and the prince himself. A discreet scan of the room alerted him of the court’s less than enthused reactions at the fact that their leader had brought attention to the future queen consort. In fact, even King Oakheart’s voice, unfailingly kind and dripping with pride as he talked about his kingdom and his family, lost a bit of that levity and warmth when he reached his daughter-in-law.

“And this is my son’s wife, Princess Aurora of the Osamodas Kingdom.”

“Future Queen Consort of the Sadida Kingdom.” Armand added with a touch of pride in his voice that had his wife smirking in pleasure and the court stifling down dreadful groans.

Aurora curtsied upon her introduction, the smirk vanishing back into her perfectly crafted mask of detached neutrality. “Lady Amalia, esteemed members of the Eliatrope Council.” Was all she said.

Yugo squinted his eyes at her for a moment. He could have sworn he saw a flicker of something spark behind her red eyes. But before he could decide whether to chance using his Wakfu vision or not to properly gouge out her intentions, he was distracted by Amalia returning the curtsy, a hand to her chest.

“Yes, I remember you from Bonta. Although we didn’t have the chance to properly meet then.” Not that she even wanted to, is what she didn’t add. Aurora’s whole family gave her the creeps, and the blonde Osamodas before her was no exception.

Also, she said it before, and she’d say it again: she had to be the only person alive who could make Sadida clothing look that tacky.

Personal impressions aside, however, she was sent to the World of Twelve for a reason, and that reason was to unite the Twelvians and the Eliatropes through peaceful coexistence and signs of good will. Therefore, she would not risk jeopardising Yugo’s people’s chances by potentially turning the Osamodas, and by proxy the Sadida, against them by disrespecting their princess and future queen, respectively.

It wasn’t long before she learned the Osamodas princess had no such qualms.

“May I be so bold to speak my mind freely, Your Grace?” Aurora requested, taking Amalia aback.

In retrospect, that should have been her first warning.

The way father and son shared concerned glances and Armand seemed to implore his wife with his panicked brown eyes should have been the second.

But she missed them, so she naively went on. “Oh! Well, yes, indeed. Please, Your Highness, do not hesitate to be frank with me if you feel so inclined.”

By the time Aurora’s eyes glinted and her smirk turned downright predatory, it was too late. Amalia felt a chill go down her spine under the Osamodas princess’ judgemental scrutiny.

“Over the years, many tales detailing the feats of Sadida’s Divine Dolls have reached our ears.” She began, innocently enough, but there was an edge to her voice, like a blade hidden under a dress. “Tales of their role behind the peace we know and thrive in, of their creation…” She paused purposely, making a show of staring at Amalia from head to toe. “Of their appearance.”

She let the words hang in the air, the tension created by them so thick you could cut it with the blade she hid under her skirt. It appeared Princess Aurora wasn’t just a pretty face; she also had to be a talented alchemist for her tongue to be coated in so much poison.

Whatever good will Amalia had tried to muster upon their introduction up and vanished at her silent accusations. Her jaw clenched, she lifted her chin up in defiance, her brown eyes devoid of their usual warmth as they stared down at the woman her father’s people had the misfortune of calling their future queen. Her tone was as icy as Aurora’s was venomous—a last warning to watch what she said.

“What are you trying to imply, Princess?”

“Aurora, please.” Armand practically begged, but his pleas went ignored.

The blonde had the audacity to smile innocently at her, though it did nothing to conceal the derision in her eyes. For a race that was supposed to practice vegetarianism, the Osamodas princess seemed to be out for blood.

“Nothing at all, my Lady.” She dismissed, her tone dripping with fake kindness. “I am merely pointing out how Divine Dolls are supposed to be, well, divine, whereas you are indiscernible from a mere mortal. Blessed be Osamodas, Sadida must have really improved in his craft over the centuries.”

“Aurora!” Armand hissed, mortified. Even behind the curtains of green dreadlocks covering his face, he blanched at his wife’s brazenness.

Didn’t she know she was most likely offending one of Sadida’s Dolls, a creature whose worship was only surpassed by her divine father himself? She couldn’t possibly just be ignorant of the momentous occasion that presented itself before them. He told her. He told her everything that was on his mind! And while that included his disapproval of his father’s willingness to welcome the Eliatrope race, said mistrust never extended itself to Lady Amalia.

Just, what was she thinking?!

And he wasn’t the only one shocked by his wife’s reckless actions. While the smirk never left her face, satisfaction rolling off of her in waves, all around them, the members of their court expressed their immense disapproval, murmuring amongst themselves in hushed outrage or flashing disdainful, if not overly obvious, glances Aurora’s way.

The Eliatropes weren’t faring much better, to tell the truth.

Thank the Great Goddess for her mask, or everyone would have seen Nora gaping like a fish at the turn of events taking place right in front of her. Phaeris only narrowed his bright blue eyes and let out a puff of smoke through his nostrils, the mediator in him appalled by the blonde’s utter lack of finesse and sheer disrespect. Qilby was blinking in disbelief, struggling to decide whether he should rub his hands together at the veritable spectacle he knew was yet to come, or try to put more effort into his performance—he had to look as offended on Amalia’s behalf as his siblings, after all.

Even Efrim’s jaw dropped the moment the ill-concealed insult was uttered.

However, no one was as incensed as Yugo. Even though he didn’t fully understand what she meant by that, he was already bristling as soon as it registered in his mind that blue-skinned Shushu was all but stating that Amalia wasn’t a true Divine Doll due to her human-like appearance. But he managed to put a lid on his temper long enough to check on Amalia, his body aching with the need to drape his arms around her and comfort her.

Even through the layer of turquoise energy covering his eyes, even if he couldn’t quite make out her features, he saw red when Amalia hung her head, her bangs falling over her obscured face.

It took everything in Adamaï’s power to restrain his twin and prevent him from doing something he would regret. But his fury didn’t recede until Amalia raised an arm as a silent request to halt in his movements.

There was a shift in the atmosphere. The previous tension was swiftly replaced by an ethereal kind of energy that was both as powerful as it was overwhelming. It seeped deep into your bones and made a home inside of you against your will, invigorating as well as humbling you. It was as comforting as it was oppressive.

When Amalia raised her head, something in her had changed. Her features, other times soft and delicate, became sharper. Her posture, not long ago burdened by the weight of Aurora’s blatant disrespect, was suddenly both looser and more confident than Yugo had ever seen. And her eyes, usually two pools of deep brown filled with stars and child-like wonder, were cold and unforgiving as they stared unflinchingly at the woman in front of her.

For the first time since they arrived at the throne room, Aurora’s perfect mask cracked, a flicker of fear shining behind her eyes.

Amalia smirked. Good.

“You’re right, Aurora.” Amalia finally said, her voice sweet as the honey used to lure poor, unsuspecting moskitos into a fatal trap. “Sadida did improve his craftsmanship over the centuries, and I happen to be his masterpiece. My human body is proof enough of that.” If possible, her smile became even sharper, like a Sram’s blade ready for the kill. “But, as you said, Divine Dolls are known for their appearance, and I am no exception. Here, allow me to show you.”

Instinctively, Yugo and his siblings braced themselves for either a puff of smoke or a hurricane of flower petals. But it never came. Instead, a deep feeling of unease took over them when Amalia’s eyes began to glow an otherworldly green.

Unlike the doll’s usual transformations, the change was gradual yet seamless. Her features morphing in plain sight. And they had a first row seat to everything in real time. The astounded gasps erupting all around them vaguely registered in their minds. They had no way of knowing if the sharp intakes of breath came from the Sadida court or from themselves, after all.

The first thing to transform was her dress.

Yugo could only watch on, mesmerised, as the leaf forming the frontal part of her skirt seemingly retracted itself until it crossed her torso and came to barely reach past her hips. By contrast, while the rear leaf also decreased in size, it still covered her backside, even as it came to only reach up to her shins. And yet, the shifting dress made up for the exposed skin of her legs by transforming her torso. Fluttering down from the leaves and daisy top covering her breasts were two different layers. The first and lower layer was a peach-coloured fabric that wrapped itself around her figure in the shape of an off-shoulder leotard; the second and upper layer, a sheer, orange fabric that cinched at her waist before flaring around her hips like a ruffled skirt, a delightful slit going up her thigh and merging with the leotard underneath.

The next thing to shift were her accessories. Even though her anklets remained the same except for diminishing until they were befitting of their name, her wristbands gradually paled until they were the same hue as white lilies. Starting from the back of her hands, they extended over her arms, becoming eerily reminiscent of the ones she liked to wear alongside her ‘adventuring outfit.’ Then, the headband holding her ponytail in place went through a similar process, its soft maple wood fading until it became birch white. The arch of the headband widened and encompassed her whole emerald-coloured head, with two long leaves growing at each end and making her resemble a Wabbit.

And yet, the most amazing change of all had to be how the horns protruding from her headdress merged with her skin at the same time as the latter darkened, going from soft mahogany to a rich walnut. Not only that, but what appeared to be stitches materialised in strategic places all over her body—her knees, her hips, her arms, her neck… Even her face! Which had the odd side-effect of looking like freckles.

They all had to bite down a yelp when flowers and plants began to spontaneously grow at Amalia’s feet, forcing them to step out of the way best they could.

His focus back on her after repositioning himself, now that Yugo thought about it, those stitches seemed to be located where a regular person’s joints would be…

Whatever the case, he found he couldn’t tear his eyes off her, his heart picking up its pace.

He thought he’d come to know all sides of her. Come to appreciate just how breathtaking she could be. He had had the foolish hope that he would get to look at her one day and not turn into a flustered, mumbling fool at her beauty.

As always, she proved him wrong.

“I hope this,” she gestured at the entirety of her new form, “helps to assuage your worries, Princess.” The smile she flashed at a mortified Aurora was so sharp, it could have drawn blood.

At that moment, his heartbeat didn’t just accelerate. His heart simply stopped.

Aurora’s teal-hued face flushed red, her lips twisting in humiliation as she scrambled to save face. “I never—!”

“That’s enough.”

She barely got two words in before a gravelly voice interrupted her. Red eyes widening in alarm, she whipped her head to face her father-in-law, the usually jovial and accommodating Sadida King now glowering down at her, his eyes dark in barely concealed rage.

For the second time since she arrived at the Sadida Kingdom, a jolt of fear went down her spine. The first time taking place just a few short seconds before, when the newly transformed Divine Doll laid her otherworldly, prideful gaze on her. The third time she felt it was right after, when she foolishly let her eyes wander around the people gathered and she flinched in fright when she locked eyes with the very incensed-looking Eliatrope King glaring daggers at her, murder in his neon blue orbs.

A terrified shudder ran down her spine.

She tried to open her mouth again to speak, to defend herself, but she was left gaping like a fish when King Oakheart silenced her by raising his hand. He looked as if having to maintain eye contact with her made him physically ill.

“Daughter-in-law.” He started, with all the authority only his many years as the head of a kingdom could give him. To an outsider, the use of their familial relationship instead of her title or even her name could be seen as a sign of respect. Anyone who knew the Sadida King on a personal level, however, knew he had no qualms disregarding protocol and proper etiquette in the name of showing his appreciation for the people in his life.

No, his insistence on addressing Aurora as his daughter-in-law was done with the sole intention of marking the existent distance between the two. To express just how cross he was at her for her clearly intentional faux pas.

“If you wish to one day be worthy of becoming Queen of the Sadidas,” another direct hit to her ego; a public reminder that, in his race’s eyes, she was unworthy of her future position within their court. “Then you must first learn and, most importantly, respect our customs, beliefs, and us. There had better be no more incidents such as this one. Do I make myself clear?”

Panic flashing through her eyes at the realisation that she had only succeeded at widening the drift between herself and her father-in-law, Aurora’s eyes flicked to Armand, begging him to intercede in her favour. If anyone could reason with his father to turn his ire towards the outsiders and the usurpers instead of her, that was her husband.

But then Armand did the unthinkable. He yanked his hand away from her touch, his jaw clenched as he averted his eyes from her in clear disapproval. The message was clear: he would not back her up on this one.

“Daughter-in-law, did I make myself clear?” The king repeated, snapping her out of her hurt astonishment.

Face scrunching up in humiliation and offence, she ground out through gritted teeth, “Yes, Father-in-law.” She turned her face away, her bangs falling over her face and obscuring her snarling expression as her eyes were set on the floor.

When she became promised to Armand, she believed it wouldn’t take her long until she gained his father and people’s approval. That hadn’t been the case, however; for she could still feel the Sadida judge her every move even months after the marriage, but she assumed she would be able to turn things around sooner rather than later. It wasn’t long before her husband came to rely nearly exclusively on her for moral and emotional support, after all. It was only a matter of time before she had the Sadida Kingdom eating out of the palm of her hand and her word became law—both literally and figuratively.

After all, that was what she had been raised to do.

Amalia raised a bemused eyebrow at her reaction. She honestly hadn’t been expecting an apology from such a short-sighted yet conceited creature, but she wasn’t expecting to see her shaking in rage and at the verge of throwing a temper tantrum like a child who had just been scolded, either.

She and Yugo exchanged glances then, utterly unimpressed. Even so, the Eliatrope King swiftly looked away not long after, his face flushing in a way that left Amalia completely floored.

Before she could dwell on that much longer, though, she caught King Oakheart moving from the corner of her eyes, forcing her to follow him with her eyes.

“My apologies, Your Grace, for such an unsightly display. I hope you don’t think less of us for it.” His eyes flickered back to the Eliatropes and dragons present. “Nor do you, my friends.”

“Absolutely not, Your Majesty.” Amalia assured him, at the same time as Phaeris took a step forward and said, “There is nothing to forgive.”

The old king beamed, clasping his hands. “Excellent! In that case, if you would permit me, there is one last person I wish for you to meet.” The doll’s whole body buzzed in anticipation when the Sadida ruler gestured and began to make his way over to the Cra woman stationed at the feet of the throne.

“This is Evangelyne.” He announced, coming to stand behind her and clasp both hands over her shoulders in a fatherly fashion. “As you can see, she might be a Cra, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t the most reputed bodyguard in the entirety of my kingdom!”

Placing a hand over her chest, Evangelyne gave them a solemn nod as a means to bow. “Greetings, Lady Amalia and esteemed members of the Eliatrope Council. It is an honour to make your acquaintance.”

As Nora took an appraising glance up and down the Cra’s figure, she couldn’t help but snort at the ridiculousness of a mere bodyguard having better manners than a princess that was supposed to have them instilled in her since her infancy.

Wait…

“Bodyguard?” She flinched when she realised she voiced her question aloud, pink colouring her pale cheeks behind her mask.

Evangelyne nodded once more, seemingly unaffected by the query. “That is right, Lady Nora. I have been serving the Sheran Sharms as their bodyguard for well over a decade now.”

“Impressive! You must be quite a skilled combatant.” Yugo chimed in. Amalia couldn’t help the pang in her chest caused by an ugly feeling at the genuine admiration in his eyes.

But the Cra just dismissed his praise with a shake of her head. “Thank you, Your Majesty, but as I am sure you can imagine, I happen to be a far more skilled archer than hand-to-hand fighter.” She pointedly gestured at her bow and long ears to emphasise her point.

That actually made him laugh. “Yes, I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised.”

Before the ache in her chest had the chance to grow any stronger or more unbearable, King Oakheart, thankfully, decided that was the best time to move things along.

“Well, now that introductions are done with, how about we finally set todays’ festivities in motion, huh?” He gestured at the Sadida guards stationed all around the throne room. “The party will be held in the ballroom. I understand you might need some time to collect yourselves, so feel free to take as much time as you need to. When you feel ready to join us, just let some of my guards know, and they will gladly escort you to the ballroom.”

He beckoned them to follow him, his subjects stepping away until a corridor was formed as the royal family led their guests outside. With Phaeris picking up the rear, the Sadida court finally gathered together once more to file out of the room, chattering amongst themselves about their excitement over the upcoming celebrations.

“Is there a reason why we can’t just stay behind in the throne room to rest?” Efrim questioned. His sapphire eyes glanced back and forth between the blossoming halls that opened up before them as they left the space through a different hall than the one they entered from, and the fading throne.

“I’m afraid we can’t let outsiders inside unless we are with them, Master Efrim.” Armand explained then, his voice distant yet resolute as he kept his steely eyes forward.

The young dragon narrowed his eyes. So there was something of great value to the Sadida stored away in the throne room…

Eventually, they led them to a modestly large balcony decorated with flowers and an ivy wall, not unlike Amalia’s back at Oma, facing opposite their kingdom. With one last bow and the promise to see each other again soon, the Sheran Sharms and their Cra bodyguard left them to their own devices, not before pointing at the soldiers standing guard near for when the time came to be escorted into the ballroom.

........................................................................................................................

As soon as they were left alone on the balcony, Amalia finally snapped.

“That little weed!”

Her voice got so loud, it sent a few nearby birds flying away from the palace, their frightened squawks trailing after them with each flap of their wings. The Council of Six wasn’t much better in that regard. At the doll’s eardrum-piercing screech, almost as if they were a set of matching mirrors, they all recoiled in tandem, startled.

The enraged Divine Doll paid their pained wincing no mind, though. Her delicate features twisted into a nasty snarl, her pearly white grinding together in aggravation, she began to stomp all over the platform like a caged animal as she rambled her indignation away. Yugo couldn’t help but think to himself it was a most accurate description, as now that she had horns she was eerily reminiscent of a wild beast. Not like he would ever dare tell her that. More plants grew and trailed after her with every step she took, the sheer fabric at her hips ruffling with her movements.

“Just, who does she think she is?!” She questioned no one in particular. Yugo actually tried to offer an answer, but just as he opened his mouth, Amalia went on with her tirade. “How dare she question the legitimacy of my identity as Sadida’s daughter, treating me like a phoney when she’s the outsider trying to rule my people!?

“From the moment I saw her back at Bonta, I knew she was a bad weed; an imperfection sticking out and threatening to ruin my father’s beautiful garden, but this?!” She let out a low, sardonic laugh. “She’s not just a weed, she’s a brat! An entitled, pompous brat who thinks she is immediately better than everybody else just because she was born into royalty. I seriously do wonder how she would have behaved had it been the other way around…”

“The other way around…?” Phaeris made the mistake of asking. A mistake he regretted the moment Amalia set her nearly manic gaze on him.

She whirled around to face him so fast, it was a miracle she didn’t give herself whiplash. “Yes, the other way around! You know, if instead of one of Sadida’s Dolls, one of Osamodas’ children had gone to visit the Osamodas Kingdom and she had dragged Prince Armand to pay his respects. I have no doubt in my mind she would have demanded the utmost respect from him if that were the case.”

The Eliatropes and dragons let a moment pass in silence, exchanging nervous glances, just to make sure Amalia had truly got her frustrations out of her chest. After a minute or two passed by and she said nothing, Yugo was about to interject yet again when—

“And another thing!” They all had to fight back the urge to groan and facepalm as she continued. “How dare she criticise how I look when she’s the one walking around with that shapeless, red cabbage she calls a dress! Seriously, what was she trying to do, ruin Sadida tailoring by making her seamstresses force an Osamodas design into Sadida fashion? Just, what does Prince Armand even see in her?!”

This time, as she was left panting erratically after finally putting a halt to both her pacing and her tirade, it seemed it was truly over. However, a quick look around the vegetation in the palace was enough to realise it was reacting to Amalia’s agitated state, if the way the tendrils going up and down the walls seemed to tighten their hold on the architecture was any indication.

Amalia was so mad she was severely tempted to snatch Princess Aurora with one of her vines and to toss her around like a ragdoll until she gained either a little bit of respect for the kingdom she intended to rule over or a concussion. Whichever happened first.

Her hands balled into fists so tight she could’ve drawn blood, she felt the furious tension on her shoulders immediately melt away with a touch, her fists unclenching with it. She started at the sudden sensation, stowing her vindictive thoughts for later, and glanced down at the hand gently holding her wrist. She didn’t even need to look back up to know it belonged to Yugo, but she did it anyway.

She was immediately rewarded with one of his soft smiles, those that never failed to make her feel better.

“I… I really lost it there for a minute, didn’t I?” She asked bashfully, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“A little.” Yugo chuckled. “Can’t say you didn’t have a good reason to, but…” He trailed off with a huff.

Adamaï finished his sentence for him. “Even if you have every right to be mad at Princess Aurora for her shamelessness, you should also watch what you say.” The dragon warned her, though his voice lacked any malice. “The Sadida might be on your side, but something tells me she will not hesitate to get Daddy involved if she believes she’s being insulted.”

“Then what is Amalia supposed to do? Ask her Daddy to curse the Osamodas’ crops first?” Qilby snarked, flashing his brother a sarcastic look.

Normally, he wouldn’t care if the Divine Doll was insulted or not, and she did provide him with quite the show when she transformed and proceeded to tear that arrogant dimwit a new one, but even the eldest Eliatrope had to admit the Osamodas princess had it coming. There was no guarantee he would have been as merciful had anybody insulted his divine origins.

The bearded Eliatrope let out a huff when Phaeris pointed out, “While Lady Amalia was in her right to defend herself, she mustn’t forget her more diplomatic role. Initiating a verbal spat with a Twelvian royal could have unfortunate consequences.”

“I know, I know.” The doll groaned as she massaged her temple with the hand that wasn’t currently interlocked with Yugo’s. “She just made me so mad… I’m serious, didn’t Prince Armand have more options when it came to choosing a bride? Why… her?” She pulled a face, her tongue sticking out in barely concealed disgust.

“Most men happen to be extremely simple-minded when it comes to choosing a wife.” Nora interjected with a disgusted roll of her eyes. She had hoisted herself up on the railing and lowered her mask, her feet dangling back and forth in boredom. “A pretty face, sultry eyes, and a good rack, and they all turn into bumbling, drooling fools…” She paused, deep in consideration, and shrugged. “Well, more so than usual, I mean.”

Efrim arched a brow at her. “You have a very low opinion of men for someone who has nine brothers, Sister.”

“That’s precisely why I have such a low opinion of men.”

The aforementioned men all scowled at her, while Amalia tried to stifle down a snicker.

“So you’re saying he just chose her because she’s attractive?” The doll ventured, amused by her theory.

Nora’s grin was sharp and her pink eyes glinted maliciously. “Oh, most definitely.” She nodded in the direction of the door the royal family had disappeared into. “You saw how she acted for a princess. His Royal Prickliness surely didn’t marry her for her tactical skills.”

At that, Amalia finally caved in. She threw her head back and laughed, loud and unrestrained. Soon enough, Nora was snickering too at her own joke, while her siblings either opted for more subdued reactions or simply shook their heads in mild, yet fond, exasperation.

It was Yugo, who also found himself sniggering at the comment, that had to gently shush her just in case the guards were listening and happened to be on Aurora’s corner. He honestly doubted it, but it never hurt to be careful.

“As entertaining as this all is,” Efrim’s voice cut through the merry air like a knife, a touch of derision in his tone. “We should probably ask to be escorted to the ballroom already. Wouldn’t want the Sheran Sharms thinking we’re here to steal their secrets or something.”

“Efrim, don’t start now.” Adamaï chided, annoyed.

All his little brother did in response was shrug. At this rate, they would get kicked out of the palace.

Taking that as his cue, Yugo teleported himself near the closest guard, who almost had a heart attack at the sight of the Eliatrope King materialising out of thin air.

The king grimaced, embarrassed. “Sorry about that… Could you escort us to the ballroom? Lady Amalia, my siblings and I believe it is time we joined the festivities.”

Once his heartbeat had slowed down and his breathing was back to normal, the guard tried to manage a respectful bow with questionable results. “Of course, Your Majesty.” He panted and flicked one finger at the other soldier standing guard a few metres to his left. “Aleafxis, take Lady Amalia and the Eliatrope Council to the ballroom.”

“Yes, sir.”

And so, Aleafxis led them through the palace corridors while his partner tried to recover from a near fatal fright, Yugo’s sheepish apology trailing after him as they advanced.

.................................................................................................................

While the walk through the palace corridors leading to the ballroom was short, now that her anger had subsided somewhat, it gave Amalia time to think.

Adamaï and Phaeris were right. Although she didn’t exactly regret putting that condescending brat in her place, something even the dragons had assured her she could hardly be faulted for, her purposeful humiliation of the queen-to-be in front of the royal court could have unwanted consequences.

Even though she still held hope that King Oakheart and even Prince Armand would come to her defence if that ended up being the case—as she had been insulted in their kingdom; a place that should have felt like home to her—, the doll still resolved to keep her temper in check from now on. For once, it wasn’t just a matter of looking solely after the Eliatropes, she couldn’t bear the thought of causing her father’s worshippers trouble with her vindictiveness.

She guessed it shouldn’t be too difficult as long as Aurora refrained from interacting with her further unless she intended to properly and sincerely apologise. But since the doll had a feeling that would be unlikely from such a self-righteous woman, she figured it would be her bruised ego that kept her from acting foolishly instead.

At least, she prayed to the Leafy God that would be the case.

Revisiting her actions back at the throne room also allowed Amalia to fully register the fact that she had actually shed her human appearance in exchange for her Divine Doll one.

The one form she hadn’t taken since her birth.

Why, she wasn’t quite sure. In all honesty, there really hadn’t been a reason to. After her father created her and taught her everything he believed she should know, and the other gods expressed their approval of her, she was sent straight to the Mortal Realm, looking just as Sadida conceived her: a rag doll.

And then, when Yugo seemed rattled by her appearance when they first met, her first instinct was to change into her human form. Why did she choose that one instead of her current form? In hindsight, it was hard to tell as well. Looking back, adopting her Divine Doll form would have really made it more believable that she was a Sadida demigoddess; although, then again, going from a sapient toy to a young woman also did the trick.

No, the more she thought about it, the more she came to believe it had been a matter of pride. A desire buried deep in her subconscious to prove Ibago wrong and show everyone once and for all that she was indeed Sadida’s masterpiece. Much like what motivated her to humiliate Aurora.

Her beauty and, more importantly, her status as a demigoddess would not be brought into question.

Because, what could be better proof that she was their father’s greatest creation than the fact that she could actually look indistinguishable from a mortal?

Now, though… Now, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was really that much of a masterpiece, after all.

Maybe it was because she had never taken her Divine Doll form before, but for some reason, Amalia didn’t feel quite as comfortable in her own body as she did before. After all, she really did look different from her sisters.

While it was true Sadida’s Dolls all formed a spectrum between doll-like and human-like, with each of them perfectly reflecting their father’s steep learning curve, Amalia still didn’t look anything like them.

True, she wore the same leafy headband that stored the Doll Master’s essence and his divine power, just like her sisters. And her current clothes were actually closer to what Ladysally, Ibago, and even Dathura often wore. And the stitches running up and down her body actually made her resemble them more than ever. But none of them had horns on top of all that! In the name of everything leafy, no actual Sadida had them!

Even if she was always supposed to be special—furthermore, extraordinary—, Amalia couldn’t help but feel like a freak. The fact that the only other horned people she had ever encountered (barring the Eliatrope dragons, of course) were actually the Osamodas Royal Family and their patron god didn’t make her feel any better.

Lost in her own world, she let out a heavy sigh, unaware of the friend that was intently watching her.

A cold claw gripped painfully at Yugo’s heart at the despondency in her sigh. His usually laid-back posture was tense, while his otherwise carefree expression was taut with concern for the woman he loved.

The Eliatrope King couldn’t help but wonder what could have possibly rendered her in such a state. As much as the Osamodas princess’ malicious words had offended her, she had still held her head up high—she had been rightfully angry, not sad! And even before that, Amalia exuded nothing but pure, unbridled joy over being in the Sadida Kingdom, her elation growing with every second they spent in this forest-turned-society.

And yet…

Her warm brown eyes were misty and distant as they looked down, seemingly finding the wooden floor boards immensely more interesting than the world going on around her. Her emerald bangs fell down and through her antlers due to the small inclination of her head, accidentally making her forehead look like a patch of grass growing between two trees. The illusion wasn’t helped by the way those leaves hung from her headband, making her look like a kicked Bow Wow. Even though her feet never stopped taking her to the direction their guide was kindly leading them towards, rather than the purposeful strut or excited skip he was used to seeing from her, her steps were slow and drawn-out as she shuffled after the guard. And the way she hugged herself for comfort, her fingers mindlessly fidgeting with her new stitches, her shoulders rigid…

It was enough to make his heart sink in sympathy for her.

“You’re staring.”

He almost pouted.

Leave it to Ad to notice his moods and assault his mind with unwanted conversation. He loved his twin brother to death, but one day, the lack of proper privacy their psychic bond provided them with was going to be the death of him.

“Not like it matters. I don’t think she’s noticed.” Yugo shot back.

He could hear Adamaï hum in thought, clearly considering his answer. “That much is obvious.” He grimaced, quickly scanning Amalia from the corner of his eye. “Do you think this is because of the Osamodas Princess?”

Yugo started at his suggestion. “What? Why would that affect her?”

“I don’t know. Maybe she’s chastising herself for lashing out at her. Maybe she’s worried her actions have caused trouble for us.”

The Emerald Eliatrope shook his head. “No, I don’t really think that’s it. Besides, Amalia didn’t so much as ‘lash out’ as she put her in her place. And you saw King Oakheart and Prince Armand; they were just as offended as Amalia for what the princess said. I’d say they’re firmly on her corner.”

It only made sense that the Sheran Sharms would defend Amalia. She was their god’s daughter, after all.

“Then what do you think it’s on her mind?” Ad pressed, and Yugo frowned deeper, at a loss for answers himself.

“I don’t know…” He trailed off, but it wasn’t enough to extinguish the fire in his eyes. “But I’m going to find out.” However, just as he was about to break Amalia out of her thoughts, his lips already parted, his dragon twin intervened, subtly wrapping his tail around his ankle to avoid making the action too obvious.

“Do you really think now’s the best time? While a random guard—”

“His name is Aleafxis.”

“—while Aleafxis is present, as are our siblings? Don’t you think it would be better to bring up what might possibly be a delicate subject in a more private setting? Instead of, you know, springing it up on her in the middle of the hall, surrounded by prying eyes and ears?”

Yugo considered his words for a moment, his gaze flickering from Aleafxis’ back to Amalia and around their siblings. His mind made up, he nodded at his brother.

“You’re right. I’d better bring this up once we’re in the ballroom.”

The dragon could only gape in disbelief, “...You mean the ballroom that’s going to be filled with people dying to talk to her? That’s your definition of ‘private’?”

“Have you forgotten the banquet at Bonta?” The Eliatrope countered. “After dinner and some compulsory conversation amongst ourselves, everyone sort of just started to mingle. Trust me, after a while, they will all be so caught up in themselves, they’ll be too busy to even think about bothering us.”

“Touché.”

Yugo and Adamaï were so engrossed in their conversation, as was Amalia in her own little world, the three of them collided one on top of the other when Aleafxis abruptly halted in front of another grandiose, leaf-shaped gate. While Nora and Qilby laughed at their misfortune, Efrim and Phaeris simply rolled their eyes. Turning back around to face them, the guard offered their guests the same polite bow his superior had been trying to while he recovered from his near encounter with death.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have arrived.” He announced, and with a few rhythmic thumps of his cane that weren’t all that different from when Glip was trying to capture his students’ attention, the doors opened up behind him, bathing their visitors with the golden light coming from inside.

......................................................................................................................

While it should have come as no surprise that the ballroom would end up being even larger than the throne room due to all the people it was supposed to house, the sight of Sadida men and women of high and lower birth alike still took them all aback. There, seamlessly incorporated into the Sadida court, stood many of the kingdom’s subjects, waiting impatiently for their arrival as they nursed glasses of wine and that ‘bamboo milk’ the Pandawa Queen wouldn’t shut up about. Except for the children, of course.

At first, they didn’t seem to have taken notice of their presence, far too engrossed in conversation amongst themselves. Again, both nobles and civilians mingled with each other, the sound of light and easy conversation, most of it small talk, filling the air.

A part of Yugo couldn’t help but wish they’d remain like that. With a little luck, he might be able to broach the subject of whatever seemed to be bothering Amalia sooner than he expected.

Clearly, he wasn’t an Ecaflip, because luck was just not on his side.

It was like a chain reaction. The second the first Sadida noticed their presence and quieted down, the eyes of all other guests present were drawn to them. Little by little, their pleasant conversations trailed off into oblivion, their expressions practically set in stone as they studied their guests of honour in silent awe.

He stiffened and cursed to himself. It didn’t take a genius to understand his chances of speaking with Amalia had just gone up in smoke.

He didn’t know if he should feel despondent or relieved when all those eyes on her seemed to snap the Divine Doll out of her trance. Watching her straighten up and plaster a (decidedly fake) warm smile on her face, he had to bite down a sigh and let himself be escorted further into the room with the others, with Amalia in the lead.

Right. This was as important to her as it was to the Eliatrope people. She couldn’t afford to seem troubled now.

They barely made it halfway through the room when King Sheran Sharm stood up from his chair, presiding over everyone gathered, and reached them in a few purposeful strides. As per usual for the welcoming monarch, his meaty arms were opened wide.

“There you are! We were starting to think you had stood us up.” The king joked, throwing his bushy head back and letting out a raucous cackle.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Your Majesty.” Amalia inclined her head slightly. “We were just… Resting for the upcoming celebration, that’s all.”

Yugo had to admit he was surprised at how easily she came up with that excuse on the fly. Technically, it wasn’t a lie. That was exactly why King Oakheart had led them to that balcony in the first place after their tense introduction. But between hearing Amalia rant on and on about his daughter-in-law’s audacity and debating whether humiliating her in retaliation had been a good call or not, resting was the last thing they did.

His easy smile grew tight, strained, when the sound of Qilby’s snickering at the doll’s explanation reached his ears. But it relaxed back into a grin when someone, Phaeris or Nora, most likely, shut him up with a disapproving nudge. Not for the first time that day, he found himself wishing Shinonomé had come in her twin’s place. At least she knew how to conduct herself in public.

A startled puff of air left his throat when the Sadida King cheerfully clapped him on the back, the action accidentally sent him tumbling forward. Meanwhile, Amalia squealed in surprise when he suddenly, albeit much more gently, placed his other hand on her shoulders. He barely had the time to glower in Adamaï’s direction when he started to snigger at his misfortune when their host did the same to his dragon twin.

“Vindication.” He mentally sang.

“Shut up.” Ad grumbled from his awkward position hunched forward.

But Yugo wouldn’t have been able to wipe the pleased smirk off his face even if he wanted to.

“Sweet Sadida!” King Oakheart exclaimed, looking contrite. The rest of their siblings were smart enough to take advantage of his distraction and sidestep him. “Master Adamaï, are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Your Majesty.” He mumbled before raising to his full height again and making a show of dusting himself off. “It takes a lot more than that to bring an Eliatrope dragon down.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.” The king grinned. Then, he turned his attention back to Amalia. “I sincerely hope you feel well-rested, my Lady, because there is something I would like to request from you.”

That piqued her interest. “Really? What is it?”

“We were wondering if you would be interested in leading us in the Petals Dance.” He gestured at his starry-eyed subjects, all awaiting her answer in nervous anticipation. “It’s the first time my people have had the chance of having one of Sadida’s daughters partake in the dance with us. As I am sure you can imagine, it would be a great honour to us.”

He had her at ‘Petals Dance’. Her whole expression lit up in glee, she couldn’t keep herself from squealing in delight. “Oh, I would love to!” Then, she seemed to realise something, and her expression sobered. “But… What about my companions? I don’t wish to leave them alone in unfamiliar territory.”

Before either king present could try to reassure her, Nora stepped in, throwing a conspiratorial arm around her shoulder in camaraderie and leaning closer to the doll with a smirk. “Don’t worry about us, Amalia. We can always just mingle with the locals.”

“It would be a great opportunity to learn more about the Sadida and their culture.” Phaeris agreed. His arms were crossed, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“For once we agree, Dear Brother.” The Ochre Dragon’s smile vanished as soon as Qilby flashed him a toothy, and far too innocent, grin. “You know I can’t resist knowledge’s calling.” He turned to Amalia, adjusting his glasses. “Trust me, Lady Amalia. I’m far better suited to be a wallflower than a dancer.”

“Language.” Both the doll and the king scolded him lightly.

Qilby balked, confused for once.

“You can also indulge yourselves in the many Sadida specialties we have spread out for the occasion.” Prince Armand’s voice startled them all. The heir had crossed the ballroom without anyone noticing and was now standing beside his father, his posture as regal as usual. “You must be famished by now.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Efrim commented, his voice hollow as he shrugged and became the first to break formation in his search for the nearest table serving refreshments.

After he clocked in on one located to the far right of the room, sapphire eyes briefly met bark brown. The periwinkle dragon and the Sadida prince exchanged disdainful glances for a fraction of a second before he disappeared into the crowd.

But Amalia wasn’t paying attention to their charged interaction. Instead, her eyes, big and doe-like, were on Yugo. She delicately grazed his wrist with her fingertips, feeling an electric jolt run down her spine at the contact. The Eliatrope King must have felt it too, because she saw him fight down a shiver.

“What about you?” She asked, her voice tender and understanding. “I know there’s a lot on the line, so I could always just help you first and then join the next dance.”

The Emerald Eliatrope gaped at her for a second. A fond smile forming on his lips, he slowly shook his head no. “Amalia, there’s no need for that. Ad and I can manage just fine.” He searched his brother’s eyes, who nodded empathetically to show his support. “You should go have fun, too. You’re the guest of honour, remember?” He knew she loved to dance, and the fact that she had been invited by the king to join them in this particular dance, which also happened to have a name, meant it was probably important.

“Are you sure?” She tried again, only for her breath to catch in her throat when he joined his hands together and gave hers a tight squeeze.

There it was that feeling again, hammering away at her chest and sending her knees buckling…

“Absolutely.” He told her honestly.

Willing her cheeks to cool off, mortified at the mere thought of her stitches highlighting her blush somehow, she sent her dear friend a grateful smile. She instantly missed his warmth when she had to let go of his hand to face King Oakheart again.

“Lead the way, Your Majesty.”

The kindly king smiled knowingly down at them, and butterflies erupted in her belly as she flushed for reasons beyond her. After a moment that stretched just an eternity too long, the Sadida ruler finally extended his arm and beckoned the Divine Doll to follow him. “After you, my Lady.”

With Amalia following after the king, vegetation still growing in her wake, the remaining members of the Council of Six dispersed. Qilby was the first to excuse himself. He wasn’t lying when he said he was a wallflower; he’d much rather converse with the other guests and find more about their customs, his anthropologist side shining through. Phaeris followed his example, although he took off in a completely different direction. Those two could only stand being around each other for so long, and today’s events had already depleted their tolerance for each other for about a month.

Their king paid them no mind. While Qilby could be too unpredictable for his own good, he knew Phaeris would still keep an eye on him even from the other side of the room. And Efrim’s transformation into an asocial hermit meant he was most likely to avoid human interaction and, hence, should not be a problem.

“Well, guess that leaves us three, you guys.” He turned to look at Adamaï and Nora, only for him to do a double take when his little sister was nowhere to be found. “What the…?”

Adamaï tapped him on his shoulder, an unimpressed look in his eye, but before he could question him about it, the dragon just pointed matter-of-factly at somewhere in the distance. Following his extended claw, Yugo felt the overwhelming urge to facepalm, his shoulders shagging in tired disbelief.

Leave it to Nora to ditch her siblings as soon as she got the chance to chat up some pretty ladies that caught her pink eye. While the group of Sadida women seemed a little taken aback by her brazenness, it wasn’t long before one of them began to giggle uncontrollably, falling for her flirtations.

The Emerald Twins just shared a resigned look and let out heavy sighs.

“So… Where to, Lil’ Bro?”

“I don’t think it matters at this point, Ad.”

And so, they made their way around the ballroom until they blended in with the rest of the attendants. After a minute or two of exchanging pleasantries and idle conversation, a pair of Sadida men caught their attention. To say the twins had been rendered speechless by their presence would be an understatement, but they still plastered smiles on their faces and tried to be as polite as possible. Now, the men before them didn’t seem to be bad people by any means—their wakfu vision had confirmed as much—, but they were the most extravagant people they had ever met in any of their lifetimes. Probably.

The snickering, gossiping duo that had joined their little circle really stood out amongst the crowd. Appearance-wise, they were opposites in every way. One of them was tall and lanky, with big, pierced moog-like ears, and wearing little more than a loincloth, leafy boots, and a gobball scarf around his neck. For some reason, he seemed to find wearing a cauliflower as a headdress to be a bold fashion statement. It certainly was bold, but it had nothing to do with how fashionable it was.

On the other hand, his companion was short and stocky, and while he covered himself more than his friend by virtue of actually wearing a leafy top and skirt, his rotund belly still peeked through the garment. Unlike the man next to him, his ears weren’t pierced, and he seemed to favour using bushes as headwear. Another questionable choice.

Now, in terms of personality, they were two peas in a pod.

“King Yugo, Master Adamaï, allow me to just say that you couldn’t have arrived at a better time!” The tall one said.

Then, his shorter companion gushed, “Oh, absolutely! The Petals Dance is such a magical moment… And to think we’ll get to watch Lady Amalia perform!” He began to fan himself with his hand. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to survive all this excitement!”

“You’ll love it, I’m sure.” The first one finished.

Yugo offered them a polite smile, although he couldn't deny he was amused by their antics. “I’m sure we will, Misters…?”

“Oh, wherever are our manners?!” The short one exclaimed in dismay. Just as quickly, his expression morphed into irritation as he glared at his friend. “Told you we couldn’t just barge in on their conversation like that!”

“I suppose you mean I told you we couldn't just barge in on their conversation like that, you cheap lettuce!”

The most unholy gasp Yugo and Adamaï ever heard in their long lives escaped the other man’s throat at the… Insult?

“How dare you, you weed!?”

Yep. Definitely an insult.

Even though Yugo was ready to defuse the situation peacefully, Adamaï, for all his logical thinking and cautious planning, had never been one to put up with nonsense. His deep, throaty voice raising over the escalating shouting match, he finally got the other two to shut up. “Gentlemen, gentlemen!” He tried again more gently when he finally had their attention. “Your names, please?”

Just like that, they were back to their giggling, flighty selves.

“Oh, right. How unsightly of us!”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

“We’re Renate and Canar! We’re the stewards to the royal family!” They explained in unison.

After watching them bicker over the silliest thing, Yugo didn’t have the heart to tell them he still didn’t know which one was which. Adamaï just couldn’t be bothered to care.

“Stewards, huh?” He asked instead. “So you assist the royal family?”

“Precisely, Your Majesty. We especially have a hand in helping them decide what to wear for every occasion.”

“We do a little bit of everything, but we especially enjoy acting, as we like to say, as their ‘fashion advisors’.”

The words were out of Adamaï’s mouth before he could think them through. “Oh, so you’re also responsible for dressing Princess Aurora.”

He froze, realising what he just said. He began to sweat as his twin gaped at him. Not without reason, seeing as he had just warned Amalia against humiliating the Osamodas Princess yet, here he was, talking about her fashion sense right in front of her servants.

Unfortunately (or fortunately?), Renate and Canar seemed offended, but for completely different reasons.

They both pulled a face, their noses scrunched up in disgust. “Ugh, Sadida help us, no! We have nothing to do with that walking fashion disaster.”

“Yeah, the princess insists on choosing her outfits herself and, full disclosure, that’s easy to see.” He shuddered. “I mean, we would never let her walk around in those fallen, dead leaves she calls an outfit, thank you very much.” He sniffed derisively.

Huh. The twins couldn’t help but blink in surprise. It seemed the future queen wasn’t very popular amongst her would-be subjects. Especially if Canar and Renate were willing to openly criticise her in a crowded room. They threw discreet glances over their shoulders towards where the princess was, next to the seat her father-in-law had previously occupied. She was just… standing there, rigid as a statue and her red eyes dull with boredom, not even bothering to partake in the celebrations or even talk to anyone.

Still, Yugo didn’t want to cause trouble, so he tried to redirect the conversation back to its original topic. “So… Canar, Renate.” The two immediately perked up. “What were you saying about the Petals Dance?”

“Oh, words just don’t do it justice, King Yugo!” Canar (or was it Renate?) flailed his hands around.

“Indeed.” Renate (Canar?) readily agreed. “Besides, why waste your precious time with pointless explanations, when you can always watch for yourself?” He pointed at the centre of the room.

Yugo and Adamaï turned their gaze to where he was pointing at. As if on cue, the lights inside the ballroom dimmed until only the very centre was illuminated. The spotlight on them, forming a line, were a group of Sadida people walking solemnly, their heads down and their hands resting in front of their bodies. Amalia herself led the procession. One by one, they all broke formation, each of them coming to position themselves all over the make-shift circle that was created when the spectators parted away to make room for them. Amalia stood at the very centre, her body positioned into a slight bow, one foot in front of the other, her muscles taut yet ready to spring back to life at the slightest indication.

After a few suspenseful moments, there was a shift in the ambient music, becoming much more focused and poignant than before, when it only served as background noise. And the show began.

Amalia snapped her eyes open. Her depthless browns became fierce, intense, focused. Her body reacting to the beat, she gracefully rose from her position with one an elegant jump and landed on her tippy toes. As she began to flail her arms around very deliberately, as if she were mindlessly drawing shapes in the water of a lake, all the Sadida around her copied her movements. One by one, they all leapt from their resting positions and straightened their backs. The image of flowers sprouting in spring suddenly materialised in the Eliatrope King’s mind.

The music changed to a staccato, and Amalia reacted to it. Her every action became brief but charged with energy, like pulses vibrating all around them. And then, she moved. As soon as the melody began to follow its original rhythm again, the Divine Doll stepped forward, her steps evolving until there was only mere millimetres separating her soles from the wooden boards. Imperceptible as the change was, it was all she needed to seamlessly spin on herself, the fabric around her waist flaring around her figure with every turn.

She moved all over the space she had inside the circle. She would fall to her knees and let herself slide over the floor for a short distance before leaping right back up. Her body undulating hypnotically as she used her limbs to mark the tempo of the song. Most breathtakingly, her constant movements would rattle the flowers growing underneath her feet, sending a veritable hurricane of petals flying that bathed the entire ballroom in soft pink hues.

But even amidst the petals, Yugo’s eyes were permanently locked on her. Everybody else simply ceased to exist as he desperately followed her every movement. The way the leaves hanging from her headband swayed to the music, her long emerald mane whipping behind her, with not even the tight ponytail holding onto it being able to restrain its movements…

It was simply magical.

Yugo knew Amalia loved to dance, but he had only ever danced with her. Rather simple things like guiding her across the dancefloor. He had never seen the doll dance on her own, and now he was seriously considering forsaking dancing with her altogether if it meant he would be privy to more spectacles such as this one.

He found himself grumbling in displeasure when one of the Sadida accompanying Amalia got in the way of the king’s enraptured view of her. The unwelcomed action forced him to acknowledge the rest of the dancers, however. All around her, Sadida men and women followed a less elaborate routine, simply spinning on themselves as they failed their arms around, all with admirable grace, truth be told. Likewise, their part of the dance included yet another unique complication—they didn’t just have to spin on themselves, but they had to move clockwise and take their partner’s place, thus creating the illusion of an ever rotating circle.

Yugo was so mesmerised by what he saw, that he almost jumped right out of his skin when Qilby slid up next to him and Adamaï without so much as a warning.

“I must admit, it’s better than I expected.” He commented airily.

“Wait,” Adamaï said, “you knew about the Petals Dance?”

The Crimson Eliatrope shrugged noncommittally. “I found out about it at the same time as you.”

“Then how could you have been expecting anything?” Yugo pressed, but when his brother flashed him an ‘are you serious’ look, he already knew the answer. Not like Qilby could ever resist the sound of his own voice.

“Have you already forgotten I came here to learn more about Sadida culture, dear Yugo?” Adjusting his glasses, he turned his hazel eyes back to the scene unfolding in front of them. “As soon as King Oakheart mentioned it, I asked around.” He hummed in thought, clearly pleased with himself. “I must say, it is all quite fascinating, indeed.”

Adamaï was losing his patience. “So…? Are you going to tell us, or are we just supposed to guess?”

Qilby hummed again, pretending to think. “That depends. What’s the magic word?”

“Fratricide.”

“Geez, no. How barbaric.” He complained, before flashing the dragon a pointed yet irritated look. “And utterly pointless. You should know by now that we Primordial Eliatropes and Dragons don’t die that easily, Adamaï.”

“Don’t remind me…” He grumbled.

“Qilby, are you going to tell us what you’ve found out or not?” Yugo snapped. He just wanted for his brother to get his fifteen minutes of fame and for this to be over with so he could go back to watching Amalia in peace. Judging by the awed reactions coming from the rest of the party guests, she just did something astounding and he had missed it.

“My, touchy, aren’t we?” The bespectacled tsked his tongue but relented nonetheless. His palms up in surrender. “But fine, I’ll tell you. According to the Sadida, dancing holds a lot of cultural meaning for them. So much so, it is not just a recreational activity, even if dancing is one of their preferred ways to pass the time, but it is treated as a ritual in itself.”

“Did they explain why?” Adamaï asked, his curiosity piqued.

His older brother nodded. “Yes, apparently, Sadida himself is well-known for his passion for dance. Rumour has it, he can be seen on spring nights when the moon is full, dancing on the ridges. His people follow in his footsteps to honour him.”

“Is that true?” Yugo breathed out. He turned his focus back on the dance taking place in front of him, seeing it under a new light.

“Oh, absolutely, Your Majesty.” He started at the voice of the rotund steward. He had honestly forgotten they weren’t technically alone.

His lanky friend continued. “In fact, one of Sadida’s epithets is ‘Dances on Wind’ precisely because of his love for it.”

“Dancing isn’t just a way to honour him or pass the time, King Yugo. We also hope to be blessed by the Leafy God, as have the many people who have danced alongside him over the centuries.”

“That is why we learn how to dance from a very tender age. It is our duty and our privilege as his followers.”

“It’s a Sadida thing.”

Suddenly, eyes widening as they searched for Amalia, her words from back when he told her about Sacred Dance Day made perfect sense. That’s what she meant back then! Amalia loved to dance because it was deeply ingrained in her people’s customs. As Sadida’s daughter, all the more reason to have a fondness for it!

Eliatrope above, she would never cease to amaze him, would she?

While they were busy talking, they missed the sudden shift in the air. Without their noticing, the music became much more animated, prompting the dancers to follow its lead. The Sadida twirled and turned, breaking the circle they formed to join Amalia in the very centre of the formation before spreading out with bombastic steps and poses.

The Eliatrope Council could only look around in confusion when they noticed everyone’s unexpected eagerness. The air around them buzzed with excitement and anticipation, something important was clearly meant to happen, but they had no idea what. Even a questioning look at Qilby yielded no results; he just shrugged, at as much of a loss as they were for once.

And then, it happened.

The dancers moved forward and with purpose, snatching an excited and willing spectator’s hands and pulling them towards them as they began to lead their partners in a much more intimate dance. In the blink of an eye, what originally seemed to be a simple round dance became proper ballroom dancing. Newly, spontaneously formed matches swaying charmingly to the music.

Amalia observed the change around her. Looking over her shoulder at a certain someone who had yet to notice her impish stare, she decided to be a little bold. She smirked. In a few elegant strides that never broke pace with the beat, she reached for an unsuspecting Yugo’s hands and, grinning widely at his dishevelled state, tugged him towards her.

Their chests were pressed together as the Eliatrope King regained his bearings and tried to understand what just happened. But the Divine Doll didn’t feel like her shortness of breath was caused by all the vigorous dancing she partook in. Maybe it was the exhilarating sensation she got from feeling Yugo’s heartbeat right next to hers, but something told her it was their close proximity that caused her breath to hitch.

It took him a moment, but as soon as Yugo realised what was going on, the way he beamed down at the doll became almost blinding. Amalia could feel herself melt when she caught a glimpse of his fangs sticking out. There was something about them that she just found endlessly enchanting and endearing.

And so, with matching grins and flushed faces, the two of them began their own dance. One hand holding hers while the other rested on her waist and she held onto his shoulder, Yugo began to lead her into a gentle sway around the dancefloor. He sheepishly apologised once or twice over clearly not being as good a dancer as the other men present, but she waved it off each time, assuring him with a tender smile that there was no one else she would rather dance with.

Slowly, almost without their permission, they both eased into each other, any expectations from the night gone as they relaxed into an embrace. Amalia’s hands were both resting against Yugo’s chest, her head nestled in the crook of his neck as they twirled in place over and over again, while Yugo’s found their way around her waist, his cheek resting against her head.

She looked up just as he looked down, a mysterious force pulling them closer to each other…

Just as Amalia closed her eyes, waiting for something but not knowing what, a rough collision made her jerk away. She blinked a few times, disoriented, only for her confusion to grow when she watched as Yugo nursed his aching forehead.

Realisation hit her like an Enutrof’s drill, mortification blossoming from deep within like a thorny bush. Yugo had bumped into her horns.

Flushing pink from embarrassment, the doll immediately tried to step closer to make sure he was okay, but before she had the chance, the sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted them.

Eliatrope King and Divine Doll turned their heads around just in time to see Prince Armand standing stoically in front of them. An arched eyebrow the only thing betraying his scepticism. He didn’t give them the chance to get a word in, “Lady Amalia, my father wishes to speak with you. If you would be so kind…”

Amalia felt a tinge of irritation spike up inside her at the interruption, but she pushed it back down, full of shame. King Oakheart had been nothing but courteous and kind from the beginning, and all he asked in return was for a little of her time. She couldn’t, in good conscience, refuse him now.

Still, she sent one last worried look at Yugo. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll be fine. Go, can’t keep His Majesty waiting, right?” He smiled through the pain. Was it from the hit or from watching her go, he wasn’t so sure.

An affectionate smile spread across her face, grateful for his understanding nature. With a quick promise that she’d be back as soon as possible, she turned back to the Sadida heir and asked him to take her to his father.

Prince Armand wordlessly did as he was told. But even as she was taken to see King Sheran Sharm, Amalia couldn’t help but look sadly over her shoulder, already missing her dear friend.

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