E4 S1: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1238658850/ E6 S1: next Wednesday this ones lowkey short ♤Ep 5 Sn 1♤ The music shifted—slow, graceful, unmistakably a waltz. Ceal offered his hand, and Thessa placed hers in his without hesitation. His grip was warm, steady, and somehow reassuring. He led her gently onto the dance floor, weaving between couples until they found a space near the center. The moment their feet began to move, everything else faded. Thessa had never danced like this before—not formally, not in a gown, not with someone who made her feel like she was the only person in the room. Ceal was confident but not showy, guiding her with ease, his hand resting lightly at her waist. “You’re a natural,” he said with a grin. “I’m just trying not to trip,” she replied, laughing softly. They spun, stepped, turned. The music wrapped around them like silk. Every now and then, they passed Ceal’s friends near the edge of the floor. “Way to go, Cealor!” one of them called out, winking. Another gave him a thumbs-up and mouthed, *finally.* Thessa giggled, cheeks flushed. “Cealor?” “Don’t ask,” he said, rolling his eyes. “They think it sounds noble.” “Well,” she said, “you do look rather noble tonight.” He raised an eyebrow. “Careful. I might start believing it.” They laughed, spinning again, the rhythm carrying them effortlessly. Thessa felt light, like the night had lifted her out of her usual world and placed her somewhere magical. And then— A loud *thud*. The music stopped. Gasps rippled through the room. People turned. Someone screamed. Thessa’s breath caught as she followed the crowd’s gaze. The Queen lay on the marble floor, her gown spread around her like a broken wave. A dark stain bloomed across the midnight blue silk. A dagger glinted beside her hand. She wasn’t moving. Thessa froze. Ceal’s hand tightened around hers. The ballroom, once glowing and golden, fell into stunned silence. Thessa couldn’t move. She stood frozen beside Ceal, her hand still in his, staring at the Queen’s lifeless body sprawled across the marble floor. The dagger glinted beside her, the deep blue silk of her gown soaked in red. No one spoke. No one breathed. The music had stopped, but the silence was louder than anything Thessa had ever heard. Ceal’s grip tightened around her hand. Then the panic began. People started backing away—slowly at first, then faster, stumbling over gowns and chairs, trying to get as far from the scene as possible. Nobles gasped, guards shouted, and someone screamed so loudly it echoed off the walls. Thessa’s heart was pounding. Her feet still hadn’t moved. “Thessa,” Ceal said, voice low and urgent. “Come on.” She turned to him, eyes wide, and he pulled her gently but firmly away from the wall. They began backing up, step by step, weaving through the crowd as it broke apart in every direction. Ceal’s hand never left hers. He looked scared. Not just shocked—*scared*. His jaw was tight, his eyes scanning the room like he was expecting something worse to happen next. “Stay close,” he said. “Don’t let go.” Thessa nodded, her throat too tight to speak. People were crying now. Some were shouting. A few guards rushed toward the Queen, but no one knew what to do. The ballroom, once glowing and golden, was now a storm of panic and confusion. And then— A scream. High-pitched. Small. *Zelda.* Thessa turned toward the sound, heart breaking. The little princess was somewhere in the crowd, crying, calling for her mother. Her voice cut through everything—sharp, raw, terrified. Thessa’s chest ached. She felt sick. Sad. Scared. *Helpless.* Ceal pulled her faster now, weaving through the chaos, trying to get them out of the ballroom. His hand was warm, steady, but trembling slightly. Thessa didn’t know where they were going. She just knew they had to get away.
They ran until the castle was behind them. The courtyard was quiet—eerily so. The moon hung low, casting pale light across the stone paths and the fountain at the center. Water trickled gently, soft and steady, like it didn’t know the world had just changed. Thessa walked slowly to the edge of the fountain and stopped. She stared into the water, unmoving. Her reflection shimmered, warped by the ripples. Her hands trembled at her sides, her breath shallow. She didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. Just stood there, locked in place. Ceal hovered nearby, unsure at first. He watched her, watched the way her shoulders were stiff, the way her eyes didn’t seem to focus. He stepped closer. “Thessa,” he said gently. She didn’t respond. He tried again. “Thessa.” Still nothing. She was somewhere else—in her mind, in her memory. He could see it in her eyes. The way she stared through the water like it held something she didn’t want to see. He stepped in front of her, voice firmer now. “Thessa. Listen to me.” She blinked, barely. He reached out and gently grabbed her shoulders, turning her to face him. Her eyes met his, wide and glassy. “This must’ve been… a lot,” he said softly. “I know it was for me. But you—you look like you’re somewhere else.” She swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper. “My sister…” Ceal’s brows knit. “What happened?” “She was older,” Thessa said, voice shaking. “She worked in the castle. There was… an attack. Years ago. She didn’t make it.” Ceal’s heart sank. He hadn’t known. He hadn’t expected that kind of weight behind her silence. “I’m so sorry,” he said, voice low. “I didn’t know.” Thessa nodded, eyes filling. “It just felt… the same. The screaming. The blood. The way no one knew what to do.” Ceal didn’t speak right away. He just held her gaze, steady and warm. “You’re safe now,” he said. “I promise. I’m here.” She looked at him, really looked at him, and something in her chest loosened. Her breath hitched, then steadied. The tears didn’t fall, but they shimmered at the edge. Ceal let go of her shoulders slowly, but stayed close. Thessa turned back to the fountain, this time not to get lost—but to breathe. And Ceal stayed beside her, quiet and solid, as the night held its breath. The fountain’s quiet trickle was the only sound for a while. Thessa stood beside it, her breath finally steady, her thoughts still tangled. Ceal hadn’t said much since she calmed down—just stayed close, letting the silence settle between them like a blanket. Then, gently, he spoke. “Do you want me to walk you back to your room?” Thessa nodded. “Yeah. I think I’d like that.” They walked slowly through the courtyard, back toward the castle. The halls were quieter now, but not peaceful—just stunned. A few guards passed them, whispering. A steward rushed by with a pale face and a scroll clutched in his hands. No one stopped them. When they reached the servant’s wing, Ceal paused outside her door. Thessa turned to face him, unsure what to say. Her heart was still heavy, but his presence had made it bearable. He gave her a soft smile. “Hey… don’t think too much about it tonight, okay? Just rest. You’ve been through a lot.” She nodded slowly. “I’d love to talk to you again,” he added, voice warm. “Soon.” Thessa smiled, just a little. “Me too.” He stepped back, gave her a small wave, then turned and walked down the hall. She watched him go, then raised her hand belatedly, waving after him even though he didn’t see. She turned the knob and stepped inside. The room was dim, lit only by a single lantern near the window. A few of the other maids were already there—some curled up on their beds, some sitting in silence. Mira was hugging her knees, eyes red but dry. Lira was staring at the wall, her dress still wrinkled from dancing. One girl was crying softly into her pillow. No one spoke. Thessa sat on the edge of her bed, letting the silence wrap around her. Her gown was still perfect. Her gloves still clean. Her hair still pinned. She’d had the best night of her life. And the worst. All in one breath.
