S1 E5: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1241343804 S1 E7: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1248324064/ ♤Ep 6 Sn 1♤ Morning came, but it didn’t feel like morning. Thessa woke to silence. No giggles. No clatter of trays. Just a heavy stillness that pressed against the walls like fog. She dressed slowly, her fingers fumbling with the buttons on her uniform. Her gown from the ball lay folded on the chair, untouched. She didn’t look at it. She stepped out into the hallway—and stopped. Two guards stood at the end of the corridor, stiff and alert, swords at their sides. They weren’t usually there. Not in the servant’s wing. Not like this. Thessa blinked. “Um… morning.” One of them nodded, but didn’t speak. She walked past them slowly, her boots echoing louder than usual. The halls felt colder. Emptier. Like the castle itself was holding its breath. As she turned the corner toward the laundry hall, she passed another pair of guards—this time whispering to each other, eyes darting. She caught fragments. “…no sign of the attacker…” “…Zelda’s still with the steward…” “…they’re locking down the west wing…” Thessa’s stomach twisted. She kept walking, trying to focus on her routine. Sheets. Towels. Deliveries. But everything felt off. The linen carts were half-stocked. The kitchen staff looked pale. Even the garden smelled different—like the herbs were wilting under the weight of grief. She stopped by the herb table, fingers brushing over the rosemary. She didn’t cry. Not yet. But her chest felt tight. Later, she passed Mira in the corridor. Mira gave her a hug without saying anything. Just held her for a second, then kept walking. Thessa didn’t know what the day would bring. She didn’t know what the castle would become now. But she knew one thing. Nothing was normal anymore. --- The day had dragged. Everything felt heavier now—more guarded, more tense. Thessa had spent most of it delivering fresh linens and trying not to think too hard about the Queen, about Zelda, about the way the castle had changed overnight. Now, with the sun dipping low and the halls dimming to gold, she was finally heading back to the maids’ wing. Her arms were full of folded towels, her boots soft against the stone floor, her mind somewhere between exhaustion and quiet reflection. She turned the corner near the west corridor—and didn’t see it coming. Ceal’s friend, Joren, sprinted past her first, barely glancing her way. “Perfect!” he called out, grinning as he disappeared down the hall. Thessa blinked. *Perfect?* Then— *Wham.* Ceal rounded the corner at full speed and slammed straight into her. They both went down hard—Thessa’s towels flying everywhere, her elbow smacking the floor, Ceal landing half on top of her with a very undignified “*ouch*.” They sat there for a second, stunned. Thessa groaned. “Ow…” Ceal blinked, rubbing his shoulder. “Sorry, I didn’t see—wait…” He looked down at her, eyes widening. “Thessa?” She blinked up at him. “Ceal?” His face went red instantly. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to—I didn’t see you—I was just—” He scrambled to his feet, then reached down and gently helped her up, his hands warm and careful. “Are you okay?” he asked, eyes full of concern. Thessa nodded, brushing off her skirt. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just… surprised.” She knelt to start gathering the towels, and Ceal dropped down beside her without hesitation. “Let me help,” he said, already scooping up the nearest pile. They worked quietly for a moment, hands brushing once or twice, both pretending not to notice. Then, in the middle of folding a towel, Thessa glanced up. Ceal was already looking at her. They both froze for half a second—then looked back down, smiling softly. The hallway was quiet again. And somehow, everything felt just a little lighter. They finished picking up the towels, stacking them into a neat pile between them on the floor. Ceal handed Thessa the last one, brushing a bit of dust off the edge. “Sorry again,” he said, smiling sheepishly. “I swear I wasn’t trying to tackle you.” Thessa laughed softly. “It’s okay. I’ve survived worse.” He stood up and offered a hand to help her to her feet again. She took it, steady and warm, and once she was up, she tucked the towels against her chest and tilted her head. “So… what are you doing over here anyway?”
Ceal rubbed the back of his neck. “Captain wanted us somewhere near the west wing. Something about checking the perimeter. The only way to get there fast was through this corridor.” “Ah,” Thessa said. “So I was just in the way.” “No,” he said quickly. “You were… a surprise. A good one.” Before she could respond, Joren came jogging back around the corner, breathless. “Ceal! Come on, we’re late!” Ceal groaned. “I know, I know—give me a second!” Joren rolled his eyes and started tugging on Ceal’s sleeve. Ceal turned back to Thessa, trying to speak while being dragged. “Hey—uh—would you maybe want to meet up tomorrow?” Thessa blinked. “Sure.” “Oh wait—shoot—I’m on duty all day,” he said, stumbling slightly as Joren pulled harder. “I patrol near the garden wing. Maybe—maybe I’ll see you there?” Thessa nodded, smiling. “Okay.” “Cool,” he said, still being pulled away. “I’d really like that!” And then he was gone—half-running, half-dragged, disappearing around the corner with Joren muttering something about “romantic emergencies.” Thessa turned slowly, her cheeks warm, her heart fluttering. She stepped into the maid’s wing, paused just inside the door—and did a tiny, silent happy dance. A little spin. A little fist pump. A whispered “yes yes yes.” Then she composed herself, smoothed her skirt, and walked into the room like nothing had happened. But everything had. --- The next day, Thessa made her way toward the garden. She wasn’t technically supposed to be there—her delivery route didn’t include the east wall—but she’d folded the linens fast enough to earn a few minutes of freedom. And besides, she knew exactly where Ceal would be. He was standing near the archway, sword at his side, posture straight but relaxed. When he saw her, his face lit up like it had the day before. “Hey,” he said, smiling. “You’re becoming a regular.” “I figured I’d check in,” Thessa said. “Make sure you haven’t tripped over anything important.” Ceal laughed. “Not yet. But the day’s young.” They talked quietly for a few minutes—about the weather, the castle’s tension, how Mira had nearly spilled tea on a noble’s lap that morning. Ceal listened like he always did, eyes steady, voice warm. Then— “Whoa,” one of the nearby guards said, nudging his friend. “Who’s this?” Another leaned on his spear, grinning. “Didn’t know Ceal had a girlfriend.” Thessa smiled politely. “Just visiting.” One of them stepped a little closer. “You sure you’re not lost? We could give you a tour. Personal escort.” Thessa gave a soft laugh, but her eyes flicked to Ceal. He stepped forward, voice firm. “Guys, come on. Don’t do this.” The guards exchanged glances, still smirking. “We’re just being friendly,” one said. “She’s not here for you,” Ceal replied, sharper now. “Back off.” Thessa shifted slightly, still polite but clearly uncomfortable. “I should probably get back to my chores.” Ceal nodded, his expression softening. “I’ll see you later?” She smiled. “Definitely.” She turned and walked away, her steps light but quick. Behind her, the guards muttered something about Ceal being “too protective,” but he didn’t respond. He just watched her go, already looking forward to the next time she’d show up.
