Chapter 3

The morning at breakfast is serene. Cyrus' parents ask how Crecylla's getting along in Phoenicia, and she smiles through it. When they leave, Cyrus asks if her room had been ok. If her room had been somewhat accurate of Diana's rooms in her own castle. She smiles and thanks him for his thoughtfulness. Though she notes that she would like a piano in her room, and that the large ornament could be taken out. She wanted somewhere to practice music.

Cyrus smiles gently when she mentions the piano. He nods and gets a servant to it immediately. Crecylla thanks him softly, and he carries her into a conversation about the wedding. They were to be wedded in 6 days, and he wanted to know if she was ok with wearing a traditional Phoenician dress at her wedding.

Crecylla is caught off guard, and she can only nod softly, scared to anger him like yesterday. He takes note, and offers her to check out the outfit they had made her, and if she had any suggestions for it. She only nods softly.

The tailor's corner in the castle is vast, big, and almost overwhelming for Crecylla. Her eyes trail along the outfits on the mannequins, and she stops at a suit. The suit is crafted from the finest of silks, and the royal blue fabric makes her miss home. It had only been two days, yet it felt like an eternity away from Diana. She continues along the wall until her wedding gown is found.

The gown itself is breathtaking, it goes from a pretty honey and fades into a clean white. The gown is floor length, and drags a little in the back. Apricot stars decorate the top of the skirt area, and a golden sun rests on the waist area. The gown itself isn't unappealing, but the shoes that they had paired it with was a little unusual.

"How does it look?" Cyrus' voice is welcoming, and Crecylla takes it as an invitation to make comments. She first lets him know that the dress itself was gorgeous, and that she has nothing against it. But she lets him know that the shoes were a little strange for a wedding dress. Perhaps it was tradition? Apologies fly out of her mouth after the statement.

Cyrus chuckles at her behavior. He had thought the shoes were a little underwhelming as well. He asks her for an opinion on what she would like as shoes, and she lets him know that she had a pair of golden heels that she brought here. He nods, and lets the princess wear those for the wedding. A servant calls for him and he bows as a goodbye. He was a busy man after all.

Crecylla wanders through the halls when Cyrus leaves. She heads in the opposite direction from the day before, and finds the music room. A small childlike gasp escapes her mouth, and she runs to the piano. Her precious instrument, about time she played. So she stretches her fingers, plays a handful of scales, and goes about playing again. Her music today is warm, and it resembles the weather of Phoenicia. However, if anyone were to listen closely, you could hear the underlying sound of melancholy, dressed up as the finest of tunes.

The door to the music room opens lightly, and another figure enters. Crecylla stops in surprise and the male laughs gently. He introduces himself as a young duke. Crecylla nods in understanding. He asks of who she was, and when she gives him Princess, his smile brightens a bit. The underlying sense of manipulation doesn't go unrealized to Crecylla, and she bows and leaves the room and duke.

Cyrus is with the guards in the training room when Crecylla appears. Her walking is slightly frantic, and he drops his sword to ask if she was ok. She bows in apology for the interruption, and asks Cyrus if there were any dukes in the castle. She had met one in the music room and his smile had made her cautious. Cyrus runs through his mind and mentions that there aren't any dukes in the castle. Crecylla is frantic and asks if there is a Rigel then. Cyrus stops. He lets her know that he was the mistress's child, and that he had been trying to get to the throne for years.

Crecylla's eyes widen when Cyrus mentions that he's an illegitimate child. The son of one of his father's old mistresses. He had been granted permission to stay even though his mother was cast out. He tells her that though he's trying to get to the throne, he had never seen him harm a girl. She would be safe as long as she played innocent.

Crecylla sighs in relief when he mentions it. She peers around them, and finds that both Sirius and Helios are here. She asks Cyrus if she could stay and train, and he worries that she wouldn't be able to take it. She only scoffs and kicks off her skirt. A pair of leather trousers are underneath, and she grabs a sword. She opts to battle the prince, what kind of queen would she be if she couldn't fight?

Cyrus accepts her challenge, and the two begin their fight. He's quick on his feet, and opts to knock her sword out of her hands. She catches on, and tosses her sword into the air when he tries to knock it. She flips backward, careful to not leave any time for him to attack her, and catches her sword. Her sword traps his, and she ditches the weapon.

The first thing Crecylla notices about Cyrus' hand to hand combat was that he was quick, and sharp. He could read someone easily, and didn't fear getting hit to analyze his opponents. The second thing comes in his fighting style. He isn't confrontational, and instead, opts for hitting pressure points. His fighting style resembled an old friend of hers. She doesn't fear it, so she goes in and immobilizes him. She's on top of him in a blink of an eye, and she makes sure he doesn't have anymore weapons on him before locking his hands on top of him.

It isn't until later during break when one of the guards speak up about the girl. He notes, in the softest voice ever heard, that he would totally let her kick his ass if he had fought her. She was just so attractive. Cyrus frowns to himself, and Sirius smack the daylights out of the man. Who was he to underestimate and go easy on her? Would he go easy on an attractive female guard in combat? That would result in the loss of a soldier, and an important figure on their side. Helios mentions that he shouldn't talk about women that way, and bonks him in the head. Cyrus can only frown.

Crecylla is bombarded with the female guards. They all ask her if she was close with the prince, and considering that she had never revealed who she was, she lets them know that they could call her Cyra. They ask her if she was the prince's secret lover, considering that he had dropped everything to make sure she was ok. She could only shake her head in disproval, he was getting married to a princess soon. The female guards nod in agreement, and whine if only they were royalty. Seemed like the prince had quite the fan base.

A knock is heard on Cyrus' door when he finishes bathing for the night, and Rigel steps inside. Cyrus nods in acknowledgement and continues reading his book for the night. Rigel breaks the silence with a question that catches him off guard. Did he love the princess? Cyrus pauses in his reading, half out of surprise, and half out of anger, and lets him know that he does indeed love the princess. So then Rigel asks if she loved him. Cyrus raises an eyebrow at the question, and answers of course. Had she not loved him, she wouldn't have agreed to the marriage. So then Rigel asks him if she would still love him when she discovers who he really was.

Crecylla sneezes when the question is asked. Why did it feel like someone was questioning her loyalty? She ignores it and continues logging her diary. The newly place piano in her room is a glossy black, and it's calling for her to play it. Who was she to deny herself of the arts? She places her diary on the bed, and open the piano. The sound is nice and crisp, the sound of a newly tuned piano. She promises herself one song, one song and then off to bed.

Cyrus is about to answer when the soft melody of Clair de Lune comes in through his window. He notices that the princess was playing the newly transported piano, and Rigel hisses when Cyrus sits back into his old position. He had almost gotten to him. But perhaps this was the universe's punishment for messing with them