8

Daimon’s attempt at wooing Herada all hit a tall wall, unable to get through. Gods above, he didn’t know it wasn’t going to be this difficult.

In order to get to his goal, Daimon had to start from where all relationships began: friendship. He had to be her friend first, and only her friend, before he could ask her for her hand in Courtship.

That turned out to be easier said than done.

For a whole month, twice a week, his mother and sisters would invite her to the palace, and Daimon made sure that he wasn’t busy that day. She ignored him throughout those visits; only answering his questions in a dead monotone if asked. The atmosphere between them was awkward between them, and that always spoiled the entire visitation.

Daimon honestly felt that he wasn’t getting through, and he began to give up as time went on. For the first time in his life, he finally found a treasure he couldn’t have. Even as a Prince, Herada was clearly out of his league. It was no surprise that a mortal goddess like her won’t recognize someone of his level.

Daimon heaved a sigh again, closing the book he had in his hand and dropped it on the table, besides his still empty and spotless plate. Currently, it was 12:13pm, and he was in the family dining room with his family. They were sat to eat lunch.

“Okay. That is it.” Mera said with an annoyed tone in her voice, drawing her family’s attention to her. “I have had enough of your helpless mopping! By the gods, get a grip, big brother. In fact, we will be going to the Armstrong Mansion after lunch, and by Aphrodite brother, you’re going to tell that woman how you feel!”

Daimon spluttered. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Mora heaved a small sigh. “Herada, brother. You’re acting like a love sick fool.”

Daimon winced at that. “Am I that transparent?”

“Yes.” They all answered.

Daimon groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I really don’t know what to do anymore.” He sighed out. “All my attempts to have a conversation with her have been swatted away like pesky flies. I feel like I am not getting through the first layer of her walls.”

“You definitely are not.” Mora said dryly, getting a noncommittal noise from her brother. “Brother, you have to realize that Herada won’t be your average everyday catch. She’s not like most of the noble Ladies who are happy and satisfied with just you just simply laying with them and walking away and behaving as if nothing happened. She’s loyalty perfection. Just like their family. Going after her, even after all her silent and obvious rejection of your entire presence is like staring into a Gorgon even after having their heads cut off.”

“Son, you need to realize that Herada Armstrong is the type of woman that will burn you alive when she feels that she's being dishonored. She’s neither like your father nor I who won’t bat an eye at their significant other having a Mistress. Better yet, a Consort. But that’s where I draw the line for your father, and the same could be said for me. There has never been a Royal Consort in this Kingdom for a thousand years, and there will never be one.” Miraene said.

“Daimon, Herada is someone who won’t hesitate to kill you to regain her challenge honor; then promptly finds a way to resurrect you before proceeding to kill you once more for even doing so in the first place.” Miraene continued, a grimace on her lips. “The Armstrong family is known for their cold and calculating nature when it comes to killing and large bloodshed, Daimon. If you do anything, and I mean anything, to anger her father and uncle, neither us nor your status will save you from their axe and sword. They will cut you down like a simple livestock or a pest. And if they please, they could even kill all of us and end this line. Gods forbid, they could even take over the throne, and the people of Grecia will readily accept them.”

Father and son frowned at that last statement, knowing how true it was. Mera looked worried, while Mora, unsurprisingly, was apathetic as ever.

The Armstrong family was one of the six founder families of the Empire; and the strongest one to both. Only they and Daimon’s family, the House of Hieronymus, were the only surviving families. The Armstrong family have more weight to take the throne, but they want nothing to do with it. Daimon was not bothered about it that much, but he knew his mother was right.

“Well then.” He muttered, taking up his spoon. He motioned for the maid by the corner to serve his food for him. “Let’s get eating then. I’ll like to see my future betroth as soon as possible.”

“By the Gods, Daimon! Didn’t you hear what mother just said?!” Mera asked with a heavy frown. “That woman is bad news. Forget about her already! Her and her bad luck will just bring this family to ruin! Do you want that?!”

“Meraena.”

“What?!” The young woman whirled her head at her sister, giving her a fierce scowl.

“Shut up.” Moragan said with a flat voice, eyes cold.

Mera was about to retort when her mother interceded with a stern demeanor.

“That’s enough, Meraena.” Miraene said sternly.

“But mother!”

“If your brother wants to court her, it is of no concern of yours.” The Queen coldly adds.

“I don’t care if you dislike Herada, Mera.” Daimon coolly said. “And I honestly don’t know why. But my mind is made up; and no one, not even you, could change that.” With those finally words, Daimon focused on his food.

With a frown of annoyance, Meraena petulantly eat her food.