Cecilia Slatemark

Cecilia's gaze lingered on Arthur as the banquet came to an end, the golden glow of the hall fading into softer shadows. She clenched her fists at her sides, her chest tightening with an unfamiliar weight.

She didn't like it.

Her heart thudded in her chest, each beat a reminder of the gnawing unease Alyssara's presence had stirred. That woman's eyes on Arthur—the way she looked at him—it was unbearable. Cecilia could tolerate Seraphina and Rachel by his side. She could live with sharing him with them because, in her heart, she knew she had been his first. But Alyssara?

She bit her lip, her nails digging into her palm.

She didn't like it.

As the hall emptied, Cecilia found herself gripping Arthur's hand, her fingers curling tightly around his. His warmth seeped into her skin, soothing and maddening all at once.

'Arthur...' she thought, her chest aching with the weight of her emotions.

It wasn't fair.

She had been the first to see him—to really see him. She was the first to care, the first to open her heart. So why wasn't he hers, wholly and completely? Why did she have to share him when there was no room in her heart for anyone else? When every thought, every beat of her heart, was his and his alone?

Her grip tightened slightly, her crimson eyes glancing at him from beneath her lashes. She felt selfish, but the thought of losing even a part of him to someone else was unbearable.

'It isn't fair,' she thought again, her heart skipping a beat as he glanced at her with that calm, steady gaze she adored.

Who had comforted Arthur when he was at his lowest after losing to Ren and Lucifer?

Who had kissed him first, her heart pounding as she leaned in?

Who had stepped into his home, into his world, before anyone else?

All of it—all of it—was Cecilia's. 

She knew this. She clung to it. Arthur wasn't just someone she loved; he was everything to her. Her sun, her anchor, her entire existence.

If Arthur asked her for anything—anything at all—she would do it. No hesitation. No second thoughts. As long as it meant he would keep loving her, she would do it.

Because she had fallen too far. There was no climbing back up now.

'I can't do this anymore,' she thought, her chest tightening as the pain swelled. She didn't want to force him to choose—not because she feared losing, but because she knew Arthur. He wouldn't choose. He couldn't. Arthur wasn't someone who played favorites or cast others aside. He was too fair, too considerate.

But it hurt. Oh, how it hurt.

Cecilia wanted him. All of him. The thought of sharing him, even with those she called allies, was a knife twisting in her chest. 

'I should just keep him in a cage,' she thought bitterly, the idea flaring before she crushed it just as quickly. 'But then he wouldn't like me.'

And that was something she couldn't bear. More than fulfilling her own desires, Cecilia couldn't do anything—wouldn't do anything—that might make Arthur look at her with anything other than love.

"Come with me, Arthur," Cecilia whispered, her voice soft but resolute as she grabbed his hand. She didn't wait for a response, ignoring the surprised glances from Seraphina and Rachel as she pulled him away from the others. 

"Ceci, wait! Where are we going?" Arthur asked, his voice edged with confusion. But she didn't answer, her steps quick and purposeful as she led him through the winding hallways of the palace. They slipped past guards, unnoticed in the shadows, until they reached her room.

"Cecilia, what's going on?" Arthur asked again as they stopped. But she didn't respond. Her mind was too clouded with the ache in her chest and the determination to have a moment—just one moment—with him alone.

Ignoring his protests, Cecilia pushed open the door and dragged him inside.

"Cecilia—" Arthur began, his tone a mixture of concern and exasperation. But she cut him off, giving him one final shove that sent him tumbling onto the bed.

"Cecilia," he said again, this time quieter, his gaze fixed on her. But she didn't answer immediately, standing over him with her crimson eyes locked onto his, her breaths shallow and unsteady. 

This was it. She didn't know what she would say, or how he would respond. All she knew was that, in this moment, she couldn't let him go. Not yet.

"I don't know anymore," Cecilia muttered, her voice trembling as she looked at Arthur. Before he could respond, she moved onto his lap, her lips pressing deeply against his in a kiss that spoke of desperation as much as desire.

Her heart felt like it was breaking apart, piece by piece, even as she tried to cling to him. She didn't know what else to do.

Cecilia had lived her life surrounded by abundance. As the princess of the Slatemark Empire, there was nothing she couldn't have, no whim or desire that couldn't be fulfilled with a single word.

But that was why Arthur had caught her eye in the first place.

He wasn't something she could simply claim, no matter how much she wanted to. He didn't bend to her will like everyone else, and that made him infuriating. Irresistible.

"Your eyes are so beautiful," she whispered, pulling back from the kiss just enough to look into his azure gaze. Her crimson eyes softened, tracing his expression as if trying to etch every detail into her memory.

"Cecilia," Arthur said, his voice steady but low, his expression a mixture of concern and something she couldn't quite place.

She bit her lip, her hands trembling as she touched his face. "I don't know what I should do with you, Arthur," she said, her tone filled with quiet frustration. Her fingers ran through his hair, her touch both gentle and possessive. "I… I don't know."

She looked at him as though searching for answers in his eyes, but they wouldn't come. How could they? How could he possibly know what to do with the storm raging inside her when she didn't even know herself?

"I love you, Cecilia," Arthur said softly, his arms wrapping around her with quiet strength. "I love you, just as I love Seraphina and Rachel."

Her crimson eyes narrowed slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line as she studied his face. "But do you love me as much as I love you?" she asked, her voice steady yet tinged with vulnerability.

Arthur met her gaze without flinching. Then he leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear as he spoke in a low voice, calm and certain. "I am willing to die for you."

Cecilia's heart skipped a beat. The sheer weight of his words hit her like a tidal wave, and she could feel the heat rising to her cheeks. Her composure faltered, and for a moment, she was left entirely speechless.

"You… you have a way with words," she managed to stammer, clearly caught off guard, her voice softer now, almost shy.

Arthur's expression didn't waver. "It's not about words," he said simply. "It's the truth. I would give my life for you, for Seraphina, for Rachel. If it came to that, I wouldn't hesitate."

Cecilia looked at him, her blush deepening, and for a moment, her storm of emotions quieted. His words were so calm, so resolute, that they left no room for doubt. She realized then that his love, though shared, was just as fierce and unwavering as hers. And in that moment, it was enough.