“You did what?” the Emperor thundered as Meddie quietly sat in the study, sipping on his tea as Trivas desperately tried to defend himself.

“It was an unconditional clause in the ceasefire!” Trivas protested. “They just wanted Meduso, so I said yes!”

“They’re crippling our military!” the Emperor roared as Meddie took a sip of tea and looked up at them. “That’s why they did that! They want our navy defunct!”

“How is giving up one prince crippling the military?” Trivas demanded, and the Emperor slapped down a stack of reports.

“The only reason you’re alive right now is because Meduso took Triton Bay and held it,” he hissed, rage flickering behind his eyes. “He did more for this cause than anyone else, because you and your brother were useless!”

“It was an unconditional demand,” Gremory said. “What else were we supposed to do?”

“Play the game,” the Emperor hissed. “Give them something else they couldn’t refuse! We nearly lost Triton Bay because one of you idiots couldn’t see that Meduso was keeping you alive, and tried to kill him! Again!”

The accusation hung heavy between all four of them, and Meduso blinked. He wasn’t expecting his father to actually go up to bat for him. That was weird. So, they were acknowledging it now? Really?

“That’s a big accusation,” Trivas said coolly. “You have no proof.”

“I have turned a blind eye to your treatment of your brother too long,” the Emperor said, and took a deep breath in. “By all rights, he should be the Crown Prince.”

Trivas stared at their father in horror, and Meduso was quiet.

“If there’s even one more attempt on his life, I’ll remarry and make new heirs,” the Emperor threatened. “Congratulations. Your misguided attempt to make Meduso someone else’s problem has saved your position. For now.”

“This is ridiculous! Meduso is cursed and a bad omen!” Trivas thundered, and the Emperor slapped him.

The slap rang out in the room, and Trivas blinked. He was a grown man, and Meddie couldn’t deny that it was a little satisfying. He didn’t know the Emperor liked him that much. Well, he had an inkling, considering the man would not stop sending him letters, but apparently, this war had painted Meddie in a very good light in his eyes.

“Control your superstitions,” the Emperor said and straightened out his jacket as Trivas lifted a hand to his likely stinging cheek. That had been a hard slap. Meddie didn’t even know how to react to that. “Your brother kept you alive for two years. You should be kneeling down and kissing his feet.”

“I can’t believe you can side with him!” Trivas practically screamed as Gremory remained silent. “His presence alone is disgusting to me! You shouldn’t have even sent him to war!”

“And what else was I meant to do?” the Emperor demanded. “You are trying so desperately to make him a scapegoat, but he didn’t force you to lose over a quarter of an empire that has stood for millennia. That was your choice that led us here, not his! He maintained the coast! He kept our people safe! He took back what they took from us, and just to spite him, you signed away Triton Bay, when no one asked you to do that, a post he defended for nearly two years to keep you and your men fed! Your petty infighting has destroyed this empire! Do you think I didn’t know you left his messages to you unread and unanswered? Do you think I didn’t know you ignored him when he asked for assistance with Holden? All you had to do was detach a retinue of men, but he made it work anyway! And you---you fool, you signed away one of the greatest military minds our empire has seen in centuries! Because you think him a bad omen! Perhaps he is a bad omen, to make you act so foolishly!”

The Emperor was spitting mad, and Trivas looked stunned, like he couldn’t believe he was in the wrong here. Meddie had a thought that Medusa never got to see this. She never got to see her father go to war for her, never got to see her defend her, and Meddie’s heart ached for her. That poor girl. Poisoned, nearly killed, scapegoated, probably blamed for the loss of the war, when she had nothing to do with it. No wonder she lost her damned mind chasing Tristan. She probably thought marrying him was her only option to never go back.

That poor girl.

She was a lot better written when he was quite literally living in the story.

“Well,” he said and set down his teacup. “This has been interesting and all, but I need to go pack.”

You couldn’t teleport within the bounds of the Holy Empire. It was against the ceasefire agreement. So, he would have to travel to the border, and then be teleported in with one of their mages to the capital. He wasn’t looking forward to that. Teleporting didn’t make him throw up nowadays, but it still left him feeling vaguely queasy. It was fine. He had potions for that.

With that, he swept out of the room, leaving Trivas and his father to argue it out.

The plot was starting. He was about to continue on to the academy, and he would probably be reviled there. Last time, Medusa was hated for her behavior. This time, he would probably be hated for the fact that he was a major military figure in this war. That was fine. He would just keep to himself and avoid everyone. The plot was going to plot whether he wanted it to or not, and he could just avoid it entirely.

He headed towards the greenhouse as a final goodbye. He was sure it hadn’t been maintained since his absence, but he wanted to see it anyway. He would never get to see it again, so he wanted to tell it goodbye. It had saved his life twelve times, and it wasn’t its fault the thirteenth time had happened.

He strolled through the halls in silence. He wouldn’t miss this place. He wouldn’t miss it, because all it had been was misery, waiting for his brothers to try to kill him, anxiety and pain. He hadn’t been happy living here. His teachers had all hated him except for Gunther, and he had been reviled at every major event he went to. No one spoke to him or treated him with kindness. He had been devastatingly alone.

He thought about that man walking away from him on the beach. The witch. His other father. He didn’t know what to think about that. He had never seen him again after that, and he wondered why the man was hellbent on keeping him alive. His father had never filled his vacated position, and Meddie couldn’t help but wonder if the two of  them were in love, and Meddie was just a bitter reminder that they couldn’t be together.

That was probably it.

The Emperor, at the end of the day, was nothing but a bitter, spurned lover. And Meddie was caught in the crossfire.

He reached the greenhouse and stepped inside, pleasantly surprised to find that all of the plants were healthy and thriving and neatly pruned. So, it had been maintained in his absence. He walked through the greenhouse in silence, his fingers brushing past his plants, before he reached his desk.

He used to spend hours here, he thought fondly, scribbling in his journal. He had loved to live here, and he was going to miss it. He sat down at the desk and leaned back, breathing in the scent of the medicinal flowers deeply. He should make the nausea potion now. But… In a bit.

The door to his greenhouse creaked open, and he looked over at the person approaching him. Gremory. Something in his chest soured at the sight of his brother, and he frowned at him.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” he said, and Gremory looked around at the various plants filling up the space.

“So, this is the famed greenhouse,” Gremory said, and Meddie was quiet. “I heard it saved your life many times.”

“It did,” Meddie said quietly and looked down at the worn desk. Gremory went to examine a halfast blossom, and Meddie said nothing as he looked around.

“I never tried to kill you, you know,” Gremory said, and Meddie stared at him in silence. “It was primarily Veritas, but the last attempt was… Well.”

He wouldn’t say. Meddie didn’t blame him. There was no one in here to listen to him, but Gremory had always been the cautious sort. That hadn’t served him well in war. He had never taken risks, and while he had done better than Veritas, he hadn’t managed well. Some people just weren’t built for war.

Gremory was quiet for a long, long moment, and Meddie wondered when he would get to the point.

“Don’t come back,” he said quietly, and Meddie stared at him in silence. “You deserved better than this.”

With that, Gremory turned and walked out, and Meddie watched him go. Well. At least one of his brothers was remorseful. Coward. He could have stopped Trivas and Veritas. But, no. He was mortally terrified of rocking the boat.

Ah. Meddie needed to make the anti nausea potion.

….

Harvey Jedidah wasn’t ready. The light of the teleportation spell died down, and there stood the exile prince, unjustly punished for things beyond his control. He was tall, not as tall as Tristan, but tall. Two snakes hung to his knees, and he was dressed in black, with an embroidered jacket and a red belt around his waist. The two heavy snakes lifted up, scenting the air with flickering tongues, and Harvey… stared.

Eyes, red as blood, with smooth, pebbled scales Harvey wanted to touch that gleamed in the sun. He had a proud nose, high cheekbones, and a beautiful face. No eyebrows or eyelashes, but that was fine. Harvey had never seen him up close.

He was a demon, but he didn’t look like a demon. He was beautiful, tall and proud, and as he approached Harvey, he walked like a man on a mission. His snakes coiled around his throat and upper arms, and he pulled to a stop a few feet away from Harvey.

Harvey couldn’t stop staring. He had seen a lot of demons in war, but never a demon that looked like this. When his father sent him to war to serve as the prince’s primary mage, he never thought it would culminate into this. Taking the exiled Prince Meduso to the Holy Empire as the final thing he had to do, and then the war would be over. These were the terms of the ceasefire, and the war was not concluded until Prince Meduso was safely delivered to the capital.

“Your Highness,” he greeted him, and Meduso studied him in silence.

“Harvey Jedidah, right?” he asked, and Harvey bowed.

“That is me, Your Highness. I will be escorting you to the capital,” he said. And then attending the academy with him, but he left that part out.

“You were a big name in the war,” Meduso said wryly. “A lot of fanfare for me.”

Harvey glanced at the guards that surrounded them and swallowed.

“It’s alright, Your Highness. We simply want to ensure you  reach the capital safely,” he said, and Meduso hummed.

“Alright,” he said, and the attendants set down the baggage in the circle Harvey had drawn in the sand to determine the stretch of the teleportation spell. “Let’s get going, then.”

The attendants backed up, and all of them were stone faced, not betraying a hint of emotion at seeing their prince leave. Harvey knew the demons were a stoic sort, it being seen as something important in their culture, but he couldn’t help but feel they should be at least a little bit upset.

No matter. Harvey just had to cast the spell.

“One moment, Your Highness,” he said, and then he summoned the spell. It burned into the world around them, and one moment, they were just past the border, and the next, they were on the outskirts of the capital, where a carriage was waiting for them. The guards stepped forward, loading the trunks onto the back of the carriage, and the prince climbed in.

Harvey followed him, climbing in behind him, and the door closed with a click. Meduso looked out the window in silence as the trunks were loaded up, and Harvey cleared his throat.

“You will be taken to the palace for now, but school starts in one month, and you will be required to attend as a freshman,” he said, and Meduso hummed.

“I know,” he said, and Harvey nodded a few times.

“It’s a three year program,” he explained, and Meduso said nothing. “So, you will be expected to attend. I assume you will choose to go with the swordsmanship course?”

“Might as well,” Meduso said vaguely, and Harvey realized it was going to be like pulling teeth to get him to talk to him.

“The Crown Prince, he, uhm, sent a letter for you,” Harvey said and fumbled for the letter, offering it to Meduso, and Meduso paused before he took it and set it to the side. He did not open it, and Harvey felt sweat bead at his neck.

“Did you have a safe journey?” he asked, and Meduso stared at him in silence before he looked out the window again.

So. He wasn’t going to talk to Harvey. Great. This was going to be a long carriage ride.

The horses went into motion, and Harvey took a moment to take in the appearance of the prince. He really was as beautiful and terrible as the rumors said. Their men had called him the White Specter, but he was called the White Prince in the Demonias Empire. He was striking, sticking out like a sore thumb, and he would probably struggle in school. He seemed to be fluent in their language, but writing was another matter entirely.

He had heard rumors about Meduso. That he treated all hostages with care and love, tending to their every need. They were not humiliated or killed, and he released them all at the end of the war to return home, setting it up so that they would be taken home. He was fair and just in all of his dealings with the Holy Empire, and respected all of his opponents and took them seriously. He never tortured anyone for information, not like his brothers, and he seemingly got his information anyway. He was respected amongst the nobility that had participated in the war, and feared in equal measure. He was a brilliant strategic mind, which was why Tristan had demanded him as a hostage.

He also knew of the rumors. That his brothers had tried to kill him thirteen times, based on a superstition, and he wondered what awaited him when he was finally sent back to the Demonias Empire. If he was sent back. He might not be. It all depended. He may spend the rest of his days in the Holy Empire as a hostage. Hostages were kept a long, long time, and he felt like…

The prince was probably going to be spending the rest of his days in the Holy Empire.

No wonder he didn’t want to talk.