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geekgirles · 24 days

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The Doll and the Dragon

Chapter 8: Hostile Takeover

Word Count: 28,297

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Chapter Summary: "What was supposed to be a success story takes an unexpected turn when Amalia is faced yet again with Efrim's clear distaste for her, much to his sister's chagrin. But as conversations are held, bad memories revisited, and secrets are revealed, Amalia will find out that the most hostile member of the Council of Six's animosity towards her might be rooted in something much deeper. But the real question is, will she be able to come out unscathed from it all?"

“As much as Phaeris hates to question Lady Amalia’s abilities, it has only been two weeks. How could she have made significant progress so soon?” Phaeris mused aloud, his voice laced with scepticism.

“Well, she is a Divine Doll, Brother. Surely her magic must have played an important role.” Mina, who was walking by his side, reminded him gently. The silver curls framing her face bounced with her every step.

“Then she should’ve been done within seconds of stepping foot into the room. It certainly took her less time to remodel her personal quarters.” Chibi pointed out, exchanging a glance with his dragon twin, who nodded.

From that point onwards, the Ebony Dofus twins weren’t quite the same. After what they’d witnessed, the two couldn’t help but keep a safe distance whenever Amalia was around, not keen on her powers startling them again. Much like everyone in the Council had taken to brace themselves whenever it looked like the Divine Doll was about to shapeshift.

“Well, Amalia said she preferred to do things the old-fashioned way.” Yugo, who was leading their march towards the doll’s garden, spoke up. “Maybe that’s why things are growing more slowly?”

Even though that was what he said, the explanation didn’t sound very convincing even to his ears. He, too, had witnessed the things Amalia was capable of with her magic. The fact that she grew giant vines that encircled the room’s pillars in a matter of seconds as opposed to the many years it would have taken had they grown naturally was testament enough of that.

As always, Qilby was quick to point that fact out, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “Last time I checked, some things still took far more time to grow than a mere two weeks. A whole garden being one of those things.”

“Oh, Qilby, there you go again.” Shinonomé chided her twin brother playfully, grasping his shoulder and elbow and squeezing affectionately. “If Lady Amalia has managed to grow her garden in such a short amount of time, all the better! That just means we’ll get to enjoy the fruits of her labour sooner.”

“Shinonomé is right.” Adamaï nodded. Standing close behind Yugo, he had his arms crossed over his torso, his head tilted down as he got lost in thought. “Why look a gifted Dragoturkey in the mouth?”

The Emerald Dofus twins locked eyes and exchanged wordless nods. As expected of a Primordial Eliatrope and his dragon twin, their bond was so deep they could hold entire conversations without so much as uttering a word. Although the psychic link they shared also helped.

While they remained composed and collected on the outside, on the inside both Yugo and Adamaï reminisced on the conversation they had shortly after the king escorted their guest back to her room once she’d been shown to what was to become her garden. The moment Amalia walked into her room and closed the door behind her, Yugo didn’t waste any time in making a beeline with his portals in search of Adamaï, desperate to unload the day’s conversations and worries onto his brother, hoping he’d be able to help him.

As soon as he found him in the palace library, leafing through some tomes now that he had some free time, Yugo did just that, and though startled at first by the severity which his twin spoke with, the dragon still listened intently to his ramblings. Although not before leading his brother to a more secluded area in the library so as to not be overheard by their subjects.

As expected, no one understood him quite like the blue-and-white dragon. He told him everything, from his conversation with Qilby and his idea to have Amalia grow everything they needed under the guise of allowing her to reconnect with her culture, to Amalia’s eventual acceptance of the role she would play and eagerness to carry it out. He didn’t even spare any details when explaining his guilty conscience over potentially taking advantage of the Divine Doll, either, nor did he omit how grateful and relieved he felt now that things were out in the open.

Adamaï had to admit, he also felt very relieved to know his brother had come clean about his intentions and Amalia had agreed to help in turn. Beyond relieving the burden on their people’s shoulders by making their survival easier, the dragon knew how important her consent was to Yugo.

He wouldn’t dare say it aloud, for he knew his twin would vehemently deny it and outright clamp up on the subject, but it was plain to see he cared about the doll immensely. Her disapproval would affect him deeply. That much was obvious from the way his shoulders, taut with tension and stress, sagged in relief as he recounted his later conversation with her.

Therefore, besides fully believing in Amalia’s capabilities himself—it was a bit hard to be sceptical after both witnessing and being on the receiving end of her power’s full extent as he had—, he would support her, for Yugo’s sake. Although, deep down, he had to admit that this being Qilby’s idea caused him to have some reservations. While he could admit to seeing where the eldest Eliatrope was coming from, he couldn’t help but feel a little apprehensive. Despite the good he and Shinonomé did for their people, there was something about him that hadn’t been the same ever since they arrived at the World of Twelve and decided to make the planet their new home.

At least he wasn’t anywhere near as distrustful of everything and everyone as Efrim.

It was precisely the latter’s twin sister, Nora, who broke Adamaï out of his thoughts. “It was about time we gave our subjects some good news. I’m sure they will be ecstatic once we inform them of Amalia’s progress.” She called out to her brother slithering over the floor right in front of her, hope tingeing her voice. “Right, Efrim?”

The periwinkle dragon simply grunted with a shrug in response, causing an uneasy knot to tie itself in Nora’s stomach. Around them, their older siblings all braced themselves for what he was sure to say next.

“Perhaps.” The youngest dragon finally said. “Although it wouldn’t be unwise to keep an eye on her, in case we just unwittingly provided her with the perfect method to execute her true orders.”

The moment the words left his mouth, the entirety of the Council of Six visibly tensed up and unconsciously halted in their march, all turning to look at him with varying levels of concern. Some of them soon chose to mask them, even now, knowing there was nothing the youngest dragon hated more than being pitied or regarded like that. He huffed through his snout at his siblings’ reactions, unfortunately far too accustomed to them not taking his warnings seriously or treating him like he was made from glass.

Stealing a glance his sister’s way, he soon averted his gaze once more and scoffed. No matter how much she tried to hide it, his scars were nothing like Nora’s. He still studied his siblings’ expressions from the corner of his eye.

Both Qilby and Shinonomé chose not to say anything or even show any kind of reaction to his words, they just remained where they stood, with their arms crossed inside the folds of their tunics and the dragoness’ tail swaying back and forth. After them, Mina and Phaeris were the most subdued—they simply exchanged remorseful glances, with Mina shaking her head ruefully while Phaeris tucked his wings closer to himself in discomfort.

Chibi and Grougal were less in sync, though their reactions still showed their own unease at their little brother’s mistrusting nature. While Chibi audibly winced, Grougaloragran pinched the bridge of his nose with his claw, not sure what else to do. For his part, Baltazar was about to speak up in defence of the Sadida Doll, but a pointed look and the shaking of his head from Glip dissuaded him from trying, so, with a sigh, he focused back on trying to avoid crashing into anything due to his large girth.

Up ahead, panicking slightly at what Efrim said, Adamaï didn’t waste any time trying to reach out to Yugo, placing a claw over his shoulder to silently urge him to keep a cool head and not do anything rash that he might regret later. Fortunately for him, his attempts seemed to be working, for even though the Eliatrope King couldn’t help but tightly clench his fists and grit his teeth in aggravation, he held himself back from starting yet another argument with Efrim like the one from back when Amalia had just arrived at Oma.

Something told him Mina would not be as willing to break up their argument in a peaceful manner as back then. He could already picture the wakfu spear jabbed into the nearest wall in warning.

Truth be told, Yugo was torn. Torn between speaking up and standing up for the selfless creature that had been sent to them and who only wanted to help, and sticking by his sibling, especially when they all shared his concerns deep down and he wasn’t entirely without reason for thinking like that.

Not for the first time, the Eliatrope found himself with two opposing forces warring within him for dominance. Fairness opposed Loyalty. Past Experiences contradicted New Beginnings. Resentment threatened to overtake Hope.

And it all was up to him to choose who won.

But he mostly contained himself, knowing what he was going through was nothing compared to his little sister. Even if she hid it better because she picked up the rear of their little entourage, the Council of Six didn’t even need to look back to know no one was as affected by her brother’s words as Nora.

The pink-clad Eliatrope could only look on sadly at her twin’s back. The light in her otherwise playful pink eyes dimming the more she stared, his words echoing in her mind like a haunted melody. And yet, she couldn’t keep herself from sympathising with him, from understanding his concerns and even siding with him, no matter how much she wished to be able to confidently say he was wrong.

She just couldn’t. Because, just like Efrim could be wrong, he could be right, and the consequences of ignoring his warnings and brushing them off as mere paranoia wasn’t a price their people could afford to pay. Not after losing so much already.

Still, what really gnawed at Nora, what shattered her heart into a million pieces as if it were made from glass, wasn’t the fear of what could happen. But the knowledge of what did. The knowledge of what their people lost, of what she and Efrim lost.

As much as she tried to convince herself otherwise, the youngest Council member couldn’t help but fear they might never get it back, despite their best efforts.

Was there something worse than staring in the mirror and not recognising yourself?

It didn’t take long for her silence to draw everyone’s attention, their eyes reflecting waves of sympathy over their youngest siblings’ plight, especially Nora’s, who was saddled with dealing with her brother whenever he got into one of his moods. As a matter of fact, even Efrim himself couldn’t bring himself to look over his shoulder and hold his sister’s gaze, the sadness in Nora’s eyes stabbing his heart like a dagger, but he shook it off.

She’d get over it and see things from his point of view. She always did.

Golden eyes darting from one sibling to another, Grougaloragran inwardly winced. How he hated when he was forced to break up the tension. Emotions just weren’t his forte.

And so, clearing his throat awkwardly to get the Council’s attention, he lamely jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, his fanged smile strained despite his best efforts to appear friendly and laid-back. “Um… Should we continue?”

After a beat where the Council of Six blinked in surprise and Shinonomé had to glare at her brother so he wouldn’t comment on the black dragon’s awkwardness, Yugo shook his head, walking past Chibi’s twin and in the direction they were headed in the first place, Adamaï close behind him as everyone else followed his lead.

He sighed. “Yes, let’s. Amalia must be waiting for us.”

The awkward tension hanging heavily over their heads as they made the trek towards their new garden feel nothing short of torturous and endless. Seeing as Efrim still stubbornly refused to retract his previous statement or even speak up, causing a disheartened Nora to further retreat into the crevices of her own mind with each passing second, the rest of the Council decided to remain quiet as well so as to not risk stoking the flames.

Despite his apparent displeasure, Mina had intimidated Efrim into behaving as soon as they reached their destination, so he would refrain from saying anything while in the presence of the Divine Doll. As much as the mere thought of playing nice with her made his skin bristle, that was nothing compared to the way it crawled every time his older sister’s stern glare flashed through his mind.

The Twelvians were truly lucky Mina didn’t share her brothers’ battle-hungry nature—otherwise, she would be a fearsome opponent, utterly ruthless. Same with Phaeris, in fact, who preferred to lead a peaceful existence unless it was absolutely necessary.

After what felt like an eternity, Yugo finally stopped right in front of the large double doors leading to his little doll’s new playground. Despite his best efforts to hide it, the periwinkle dragon’s snout still curled into a quiet snarl before shaking it off, a puff of hot air emanating from his nostrils. Squaring his shoulders up, he readied himself for the very unpleasant times ahead.

“Well, this is it…” Yugo announced unnecessarily. With an encouraging squeeze of his shoulder from Adamaï, their king raised his hand to knock on the smooth surface of the door.

The apprehension gripping at his heart tightly somehow amplified the sound, causing the soft knocks to echo in his ears to the beat of his uneven heartbeat.

After what felt like another eternity, even though it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, the doll’s cheery voice beckoned them from inside.

“Come on in!”

Efrim’s eyes narrowed in disgust when he took notice of the dopey smile that broke into Yugo’s face at the sound of his ‘guest’s’ voice. More so when he caught wind of the others sharing knowing, pleased glances. The only ones who remained unaffected were Qilby, Shinonomé, and, weirdly enough, Nora.

The dragon forced himself not to dwell too much on that. He knew his sister enough to understand her mind was certainly elsewhere—under any other circumstances, she would not have hesitated to tease their king for his reaction with an almost impish glee—and he wasn’t in the mood to try and dissect what troubled her.

“Well, you heard the lady!” Chibi shrugged, reaching out to grab the handles, “Let’s go!”

However, before his hands could so much as grasp the handles, the door opened on its own accord, causing everyone gathered to take a step back in surprise. The clear shock they felt remained etched onto their faces when a pair of vines revealed themselves as the ones responsible for letting them inside, their green stems waving back and forth in a cheerful greeting before gesturing for them to come in.

The surprises didn’t end there either.

The Council of Six couldn’t help the parting of their lips in astonishment with every step they took into the garden, their gazes lifted upwards as they took everything in. In a way, it still wasn’t much, certainly not the veritable jungle they had been expecting, which in itself was incredible enough, as well as ironic.

The first thing they noticed upon entering was the feeling of soft, cosy grass tickling their feet, causing them to look down and let out appreciative sounds. Indeed, where a mere two weeks prior the same room held nothing but dirt—albeit a very fertile one that took Chibi and Grougal quite some time to acquire—now was a green mantle, glistening under the afternoon sun and muffling their footsteps.

As their eyes scanned the area, they soon spotted some patches of dirt, each of them ready to begin cultivation as soon as possible. Some even had young stems peeking out from the ground, showcasing Amalia’s progress. Although, truth be told, the weirdest thing by far had to be the dug-out hole in the ground on the far end of the room; some smooth-looking, grey rocks were tidily piled up next to it.

Other than that, which was admittedly a huge improvement from how it had first been just a mere two weeks prior, there wasn’t much of notice. The only other thing worth pointing out was the fact that the vines Amalia had summoned back in the day to encircle the pillars supporting the room were now in bloom. The doll in question tended lovingly to the small, white flowers sprouting from them.

She was perched on another large vine that served as both her personal elevator and chair as she completed her task. Perking up at their arrival, a beaming grin spread all over her face as she greeted them.

“Yugo! Everyone! You guys are already here!”

Without so much as a snap of her fingers, her makeshift ladder was reabsorbed by the very earth it came from, lowering its mistress to the ground as it disappeared from sight. As soon as her feet touched the grassy floor, Amalia clasped her hands in front of her, her entire being radiating with excitement.

“I’m so glad you could make it.” She said. “I’ve been working on getting everything ready all day.”

“Sorry to have kept you waiting, Lady Amalia.” Mina apologised on behalf of the Council; her tone diplomatic as she got a little closer to the doll. “As I’m sure you’ll understand, we had other pressing business to tend to before we could come here.”

Never losing her smile, though it became a little shy under the older woman’s kind gaze, Amalia waved her off. “It’s perfectly fine, Lady Mina. Yugo already told me you didn’t know when you’d be able to spare me some of your time.”

“To be honest,” Yugo chimed in, coming to stand close to her, “there was no guarantee we’d even be able to come today. We’ve all been quite busy…”

Amalia was about to retort when Glip’s mock-stern tone beat her to it, “As a matter of fact, so will you, m’Lady.”

“Baltazar must agree with his brother.” Now that he’d finally squeezed himself into the room—not without a little help from one of Nora’s portals—, Baltazar was quick to add, “Don’t think that just because you’ve been working on official business, you’re spared from handing in your homework next time you drop by the classroom.”

“No, of course not…” Amalia chuckled sheepishly, fidgeting with her fingers. She made it a point to evade her teachers’ gaze.

Truth be told, with her tending to the garden, she had forgotten all about her pending homework. She had a lot of reading and catching up to do. And a report on Eliatrope theology to hand in. One she hadn’t even started on.

“I must admit,” Qilby spoke up as he stepped deeper into the room, his hazel eyes taking everything in from behind his glasses. “I expected a bit more from you, Lady Amalia. Compared to what we have seen from you, this is simply underwhelming.”

“What do you mean?” She asked, her brow furrowed in concern. Growing protective, Yugo stepped a little closer to her, not before sending his brother a warning glare.

Scoffing petulantly at his king’s antics to himself, Qilby had just opened his mouth to protest when a light tap on his arm from Shinonomé made him close it shut. The red dragoness by-stepped her twin and closed the distance between herself and the doll, taking both of her hands in hers in a motherly gesture.

“What my brother means is that, given your natural talents, we’re a little surprised you haven’t turned this enclosure into your own tropical paradise by now.” She explained far more gently. With a smile that was meant to be reassuring, she patted the doll’s dark hands affectionately. “Of course, what you have already accomplished is still incredible. So, please, don’t be too discouraged by Qilby’s words.”

“Qilby’s got a point.” Chibi agreed, with Grougaloragran nodding along. “After what you did to your chambers, we expected something a bit… more.” They both flinched when Yugo flashed them a scandalised look. Not so much for expressing their opinion as it was about them agreeing with Qilby.

Frowning deeply at his brother’s lack of tact, Yugo was about to come to Amalia’s defence when his twin’s rich voice reverberated around the enclosure, sounding like he was nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Looking up in surprise, they found him flying over the room with his wings outstretched and peering down at them from up above.

Ad wasn’t one to fly for no reason, being perfectly content with walking around. So when he did take flight, it was usually because he wanted to have a more informed look on everything.

“Pay them no mind, Amalia.” He said as he flew from one place to the other, inspecting her handiwork. “You can’t rush these things. And, if you want my opinion, what you have done so far is nothing to scoff at either!”

Yugo smiled at his brother. He could always count on Adamaï to have his back, even when it included supporting a third person.

Amalia surprised everyone present when, instead of growing offended as they expected, she just laughed. Her giggles loud and clear like a bell as they bounced off the walls. Once her laughter had quieted back down, a small smirk spread over her lips and an unreadable glint in her eyes, almost like she knew something they didn’t.

“Oh, trust me,” she started, turning her back on the Council members and stepping closer to the pillar by her side, her hand outstretched as one of its flowers wrapped itself around her wrist. “This is all deliberate. If I wanted to, I could have it all done sooner than you can say ‘leaf’.”

“Then why don’t you?” Phaeris questioned, an eyebrow raised.

This time, it was Yugo who replied, “Because Sadidas prefer to let nature run its course at its own pace. If they can help it, they won't rush anything unless absolutely necessary.”

“Precisely!” Amalia perked up, smiling back at her friend. He actually remembered! Then, she added, “Besides, I already agreed to help you grow whatever you might need, but I can’t do much until you tell me what it is.” She shrugged, extracting her hand from the flower’s hold and placing both on her hips. “So I’ve been mostly buying time and getting everything ready in the meantime.”

Before any of them could question her further, she pointed at the patches of dirt they’d taken notice of before, silently answering their unsaid questions.

“So you have been preparing the ground this whole time?” Grougaloragran asked aloud. When she responded with a nod, he crossed his arms over his humanoid form, satisfied. “Grougaloragran is impressed.”

The doll preened at his praise, “Thank you.”

Efrim, who had forced himself to remain silent lest he risked saying something his siblings would make him regret—and who raised an intrigued eyebrow when he noticed the wordless conversation going on between Qilby and Shinonomé and wondered what that could even be about—almost did a double-take when Nora turned to address the doll.

She remained calm and polite, but that still was a far cry from the exuberance and mischievousness she was well-known for.

“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, Amalia,” she rolled her eyes when she spotted Yugo’s warning look. That was more like the twin sister he knew and loved. “But have you been doing anything else?” She allowed a small, teasing grin to curl at her lips as she stared at the doll meaningfully, slowly but surely growing back into her usual self. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I’ll have to tell Glip and Baltazar you’ve been slacking off if this is all you’ve been up to for two weeks.”

The aforementioned educators chuckled fondly at their sister’s joke, along with the student in question.

“As a matter of fact, I have.” She answered back with a playful wink. Strutting confidently around the garden-in-process, she gestured for the Eliatropes to follow her. “Come take a look.”

Yugo didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as she turned her back on them, he was standing by Amalia’s side, complimenting her on what she had done so far. While Adamaï smiled kindly at his reaction, not unlike Mina and Phaeris, Efrim had to force himself to suppress the growl that threatened to leave his throat at the pathetic display. Just a few months with them, and their king would already follow her to the ends of the world.

What was worse, he seemed to be the only one who took the situation seriously! While Adamaï, Mina, and Phaeris seemed to downright approve of their relationship, carelessly overlooking the disastrous consequences it could have, Chibi and Grougaloragran couldn’t help but snicker at their king’s demeanour, whispering among themselves about how Yugo ‘behaved like a lovesick puppy’, and seeing nothing wrong with it!

The only ones who at least pretended to remain professional were the Ivory and Crimson Dofus set of twins. But even then, Efrim knew better than to get his hopes up. Not that long ago, he and Glip had been of the same mind when it came to the doll, and now she was essentially his star pupil!

It was sickening, how she managed to manipulate them all into accepting her with nothing but a smile and an innocent act.

As for his sister…

He chanced a glance her way, but looked away before she could sense his attempts at connecting with her. He shook his head ruefully. His sister hadn’t been the same in a very long time.

Finally, the Sadida Doll stopped in front of a particular patch of grass, one located right beneath the largest windowpane in the whole enclosure, the sun’s golden rays raining directly down on it. She shook her hands in front of her and shifted her weight from one leg to the other, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, clearly readying herself for whatever she was about to do.

She sent them a look over her shoulder, a wry smirk on her lips. “Watch this.”

Immediately after, she slammed her hands down on the grass, coming to bend down on it, and the entire Council took a cautious step back, their guards up. Chibi, Grougal, and Adamaï in particular huddled close together for comfort. They were intimately familiar by now with the fact that things tended to get out of hand whenever Amalia’s palms were in direct contact with the ground. They did not want a repeat of their previous experiences.

However, after a beat, nothing seemed to happen. At most, the afternoon breeze coming from an open window rustled the blades of grass, momentarily disturbing the silence. In response, the Eliatrope and dragon siblings couldn’t do much else besides send each other confused glances and awkward shrugs, flabbergasted by the apparent lack of (literally) earth-shattering developments.

Chibi, who had closed his eyes shut in apprehension, tentatively opened one when he didn’t register any changes. His entire posture relaxing, he let out an audible sigh, relieved. “Phew! That was close—.”

Grougaloragran smacked his brother in the back of the head when, no sooner had the words left his mouth, a dim energy wavelength emanated from the spot Amalia was touching and expanded all over the patch of grass, followed immediately after by a small tremor that reverberated around the garden.

“You just had to jinx it, didn’t you?” The black dragon glared at his brother, huffing through his nose.

“I’m sorry…” The prophet said meekly, his shoulders slagging.

As the Ebony twins bickered, it was Mina who first took notice of something strange. For some reason, the fact that Amalia was back to her full height and beaming proudly with her hands clasped before her chest did nothing to alleviate her worries.

“Look!” She exclaimed, pointing at the grass in front of them after registering movement from the corner of her eye.

When the remaining members of the Council of Six peered over at where their sister was pointing at, they all let out small gasps of surprise at what they saw. From deep beneath the soil, a small, rag-like being literally popped out of the ground, stretching and even yawning cutely before taking notice of its captivated audience. Once it became aware of its surroundings, a beaming smile stretched over its stitched lips, and it eagerly waved at the Eliatropes and dragons before dashing forward to properly meet them.

The nearest person was Mina, so the little creature stopped right in front of her, motioning with its little, fingerless arms back and forth. The silver-haired Eliatrope could only blink in astonishment, completely dumbfounded by this little mystery’s needs.

Then it clicked.

“Oh! You want me to pick you up, little one?”

The little thing nodded resolutely, reaching out to the woman in front of it. Not like it was of much help, given Mina was over a metre and a half taller than it was. Still, she obliged, crouching down slightly to scoop the tiny thing up in her arms.

Before Yugo could so much as open his mouth to ask Amalia what was going on, the earth around them began to all but spit more rag-like creatures, all of them looking exactly the same as the one Mina had in her arms.

Each and every one of them seemed to be made from a beige, rag-like fabric. They had tiny bodies and stump-like limbs, and a comically larger head. Their eyes were white and pupilless, and a thin line stitched along the edges comprised their mouths. A big, star-shaped verdant leaf enveloped their tiny form—three leaves framed their face, while the other two hugged their midsection—, its stem curling after them like a tail.

They were as cute as they were disturbing, and, before they knew it, the Council of Six found themselves surrounded and heavily outnumbered by them.

Qilby’s hands shot up in front of his body in surrender, a bead of sweat running down his temple. “This has got to be the cutest takeover I have ever seen.” He mused aloud, earning himself a quizzical eyebrow from Glip, who brandished his staff in front of his body like a weapon.

“Really? In all our lifetimes, you can’t think of anything cuter?”

“I actually find myself drawing a blank, for once.” He admitted.

A trap! Efrim thought to himself, alarmed. Oh, he knew they couldn’t trust that forsaken doll, let alone leave her to her own devices! If he didn’t do anything, and soon, they were about to pay the price for their complacency.

Snarling furiously at the creatures, his hate-filled gaze strained on the still smiling doll, the periwinkle dragon crouched down low, the grass tickling his softer underbelly. With his long tail coiled around him like a vicious serpent, ready to strike, he set out to unfold his wings and give himself a vantage point from which to deliver a devastating attack.

However, his actions were halted when Yugo, no doubt sensing his intentions and choosing to get in his way for whatever reason, asked, “Amalia, what are these?”

Amalia, who had her focus momentarily stolen by the intimidating young dragon’s strange behaviour, was shaken out of her thoughts by the question. Blinking rapidly, she turned back to Yugo.

“Huh?” Was her eloquent answer.

“These,” the Eliatrope King asked, gesturing down at the little creatures smiling up at him. “What are they?”

“Oh!” That seemed to do the trick. The triumphant grin back on her face, she gestured with both hands at the small army she had literally grown out of her garden. “These are my Sadida dolls. Aren’t they perfect?”

A heavy sense of bewilderment overtook the entirety of the Council, all of them looking at the Divine Doll as if she had just grown a second head. Even Efrim was too flabbergasted to stand up from his position on the floor.

“Um…forgive me if I’m wrong,” Adamaï broke the silence, coughing awkwardly into his claw, “but aren’t you a Sadida Doll?”

“I’m Sadida’s doll.” She corrected, matter-of-factly.

He nodded, at a loss. “Right, right…”

“And you created them?” Phaeris added, staring with an eyebrow raised as a few dolls climbed up his back and swung from his wings. Growing irritated, he groaned and flapped the appendages rapidly to shake them off.

“That’s right.” She nodded.

“So, you’re their mother…” Qilby muttered, only to receive a shake of her head from Amalia.

“Nope.” She said, popping the ‘p’.

“But you just said you’re Sadida’s doll, and we all know he is your father.” Chibi commented, struggling to follow the conversation.

“Father created me as my own being, therefore, he is my father. Sadidas sew their own dolls and are synchronised with them, but they are not their parents.”

“Synchronised…?” Glip could already feel his head spinning.

“Um, Lady Amalia?” Shinonomé called out to her. “I’m afraid we’re going to need you to explain what’s going on. Whatever it is that… this is, clearly eludes us.”

With a patient smile and a nod, the Divine Doll gestured at the Eliatrope Council to take a seat. The latter exchanged confused glances, assuming she meant they sat down on the ground, but they all collectively yelped when each of them was suddenly scooped up by a series of large flowers, their petals arranged so they’d resemble armrests. The only exception was Baltazar who, due to his sheer size in his dragon form, limited himself to contently laying down on the grass with a shrug.

Amalia herself reclined back in the human-sized rosebud she’d summoned with a flick of her wrist. She was surrounded by several of her dolls as she spoke:

“Sadidas are known for their animated dolls.” She started, playing absentmindedly with one of the rag creatures on her lap. “As you can probably guess, it all started as a way to honour Sadida’s creation of his Divine Dolls.”

“Yeah, but… They don’t look anything like you…” Chibi interrupted, earning himself nods of assent from some of the other council members.

“Are you sure?” Amalia shot back, a playful smirk on her lips.

The black-wearing Eliatrope had a very good inkling that it’d be rude to just gesture at the doll’s general direction to bring attention to her very human-looking body as way of answer. So, he pursed his lips in a thin line and simply nodded. “Mm-hmmm…”

Never losing her wry smile but not saying a word either, the Divine Doll simply raised an eyebrow. Then, she disappeared behind a puff of smoke. When the wisps dissipated, in her place was the same dark rag doll they saw in the throne room back when Master Joris ‘introduced’ himself only to eventually extend them an invitation to Bonta.

Now that she was standing beside the other dolls, she turned out to be barely taller than them, and only because of the tuft of green hair on top of her head giving her a few extra centimetres on them.

While Chibi gaped, it was Grougal by his side who voiced his thoughts, “Grougaloragran forgot she could do that…”

Meanwhile, Mina had brought her hands to her face, while Yugo was pinching the bridge of his nose in second-hand embarrassment. The rest of their siblings were trying to contain their laughter at the Ebony Twins’ expense with varying degrees of success. Except for Efrim, who grumbled quietly to himself and burrowed himself deeper into the flower’s folds.

Giggling at their reaction, another puff of smoke enveloped Amalia, bringing back her mahogany curves, and luscious emerald hair. “If you think we Sadida Dolls don’t look alike, Chibi, you should see my older sisters.”

“Huh?”

“Father got better the more he practised.” She explained simply.

“Anyway,” Yugo cut in, desperate to move the conversation along and not to have his siblings embarrassing themselves in front of their guest further. “You were explaining why you created your own dolls, Amalia.”

“Oh! That’s right.” She got a little more comfortable in her seat. “As I was saying, doll crafting became a crucial part of Sadida culture. In fact, alongside nature itself, dolls are a Sadida’s best weapons.”

“Weapons?” Efrim echoed, alarmed. He narrowed his gaze in suspicion on the ragdoll standing at the end of his tail. Squeaking in fright, it immediately scurried off, the dragon’s intense gaze terrifying it to the core. “So, you’re saying these little dolls can actually cause harm?”

Amalia wasn’t faring much better than the doll. If she could, she would be running away from Efrim’s questioning, too. But she didn’t have that luxury.

Swallowing the scared whimper that threatened to leave her throat with an audible gulp, she stammered, “Y-yeah. Th-that’s a way of putting it, I suppose…”

“Explain.” He leaned closer in his seat, his interest (and suspicion) piqued. In the meantime, a quivering Amalia couldn’t help but wonder who anyone was able to make a single word sound like the most threatening of orders.

“Efrim.” Yugo hissed, a blue warning flashing through his eyes. Even Mina was sending him a stern look to get him to ease up on their guest. But their younger brother just ignored them, his focus strained on the squirming Sadida Doll.

“It’s… Um, it’s as I said.” She tried; her voice tremulous under Efrim’s unforgiving scrutiny. “Thanks to the magic used while crafting them, Sadida Dolls are synchronised with their owners, hence, they obey their every wish and command and reflect their masters’ physical state.”

“And that makes them weapons?” He pressed on, like a Bow Wow with a bone.

“Efrim.” Phaeris groaned. Chibi and Grougal were discreetly shaking their heads for the periwinkle dragon to stop.

“Erm, no. What allows them to serve as weapons is their very nature as animated ragdolls. Since they’re not technically alive, they can take hits meant for their master without suffering any real damage, just like they also serve for a wide variety of purposes.”

“What purposes?” Qilby perked up, glad to finally have something to become invested in amidst Efrim’s thinly disguised questioning of the Sadida demigoddess.

“Qilby!” Shinonomé chided her twin, flashing him an incredulous look. She rolled her eyes until they reached the back of her head when all he could do to defend himself was shrug defensively.

Amalia squirmed in her seat, her mouth dry. She was just about to reply when Yugo leaned over and placed his hand on top of hers, smiling at her softly, reassuringly.

Immediately, she felt like she could finally breathe again.

“You don’t have to answer, Amalia. Qilby,” he glared at the bespectacled Eliatrope over his shoulder, “is just being his overly curious, overly annoying self. Don’t pay him any mind.”

“I resent that…” The overly curious and annoying Eliatrope in question mumbled, crossing his arms childishly.

The sincerity, warmth, and care reflected in Yugo’s dark brown eyes was enough to make Amalia want to melt into a puddle of goo, her heart fluttering in her ribcage at the out he was giving her, knowing his family was making her uncomfortable.

Her eyes fell to the ground.

As easy as it would be, she couldn’t take that out. It wouldn’t be right. It was her who had summoned the Council of Six to her garden in order to show them her progress, especially what she’d accomplished with her dolls. She owed it to them, to Yugo, and to herself to see this through, regardless of how uncomfortable Efrim’s attitude towards her was making her feel.

“It’s okay, Yugo. Thanks.” She told him softly, giving his hand a soft squeeze before letting go. “I was planning on telling you guys about it anyway.”

She had to keep her smile from widening when she noticed Yugo hadn’t returned to his seat but had come to stand protectively beside her. Even if she knew it was out of loyalty to his twin, she still felt grateful when Adamaï took his place on the other side of her.

She cooled her features into a calm, confident expression. “To answer your question, Qilby, Sadida dolls aren’t just great at taking hits meant for others, they can also harmlessly inhale toxic substances, grow in size, cushion falls…”

“Sounds like the Sadida equivalent of a Sram army knife.” Nora noted sarcastically, amused. She had to force herself to ignore the betrayed look her twin was sending her for daring to treat the Divine Doll cordially, as well as the pang of pain that threatened to overwhelm her.

“Wait until I grow the explosive ones!” Amalia laughed, already thinking about all the possibilities laid before her. She was so enthralled in her own thoughts, she didn’t notice the scandalised looks from everyone around her.

“…I’m sorry, what?” Adamaï, who had picked one of the dolls up and had been playing with it, asked, dumbfounded. In his unease, he absentmindedly dropped the doll to the floor. Upon hitting the grass, the offended little creature began to wave its fist frantically in his direction and demand an apology from him.

While Ad raised his claws up in surrender at the irate doll, Amalia went on, undeterred, “As I’m sure you can imagine, their versatility, combined with the fact that they obey their master without question, as I already said, makes them extremely useful assets.”

“That goes without question.” Glip agreed, leaning forward with his clasped hands over his knees. “But the better question is, why did you craft them, my Lady?”

That was the question running through everyone’s minds, even Yugo’s. But especially Efrim’s. It was undeniable that there was something very suspicious about what was essentially the god’s peace offering making her own weapons, ones she had just openly admitted were a force to be reckoned with.

Moreover, ones that, due to their very nature, would obey only her, and hence, served no real purpose to the Eliatrope race.

Amalia’s explanation, how she wanted to remain a little closer to her Sadida roots by following one of their most sacred customs as per Yugo’s suggestion, did nothing to alleviate the young dragon’s worries. Quite the contrary, he could feel the pit in his stomach growing deeper and deeper with every second that passed.

She talked about her divine father and sisters and her time in Inglorium. About how, despite his previous feat at literally creating life all by himself, Sadida himself was extremely reluctant to craft any more dolls, even if they weren’t divine��which had to be about the only thing Efrim could believe, judging from the commotion the Leafy God’s youngest child’s birth had caused since the sister preceding her had been born centuries earlier. And how she remembered her sister Dathura—the aforementioned sister that preceded her—had her own horde of loyal dolls she created herself.

He didn’t need Qilby and Shinonomé’s divine gift to know that had to be the flimsiest excuse he had ever heard. As far as he was concerned, manufacturing weapons wasn’t an appropriate way to deal with homesickness!

(Unless you were a Rogue, as he would learn later on).

The whole thing reeked of ulterior motives, and it was becoming damn near impossible to keep himself from roaring in outrage and lunging himself at the Divine Doll to put an end to her machinations once and for all. He was already losing his grip on his worst impulses, if the furious flicking of his long tail was any indication.

But that was nothing compared to how powerless he felt when his siblings chose to remain blind to the clear signs of something sinister going on beneath the surface. Instead, they insisted on giving the doll chances to redeem herself, even though, not that long ago, they would not have hesitated to put an end to their enemy’s misery if it meant protecting their people by any means necessary.

It was as if they simply refused to see what was right under their noses right until the very moment it bit them in the arse.

Somehow, the fact that it was Qilby and Shinonomé who seemed the most understanding of her after Yugo and Adamaï hurt even more. How could they? What happened to their divine gift, the very same one they never stopped alluding to whenever they had the chance? Did they suddenly not remember all the hardships and horrors their people had gone through during the war?

“My, Lady Amalia. You have quite a way to keep your origins close to your heart.” Qilby chuckled airily, leaning back on his seat and adjusting his glasses over the bridge of his nose.

“Indeed. It’s not every day we hear of people crafting weapons to deal with their homesickness.” The red dragoness added, her tail resting on her lap leisurely.

“That’s because you have yet to meet the Rogues.” Amalia pointed out, taking everyone aback by the casualness of her answer. “The only thing they love more than making bombs and setting up ambushes to rob people blind is their family.”

Yugo leaned closer to his twin. “Ad, remind me to never accept an invitation to a family dinner in a Rogue’s home if I can help it.” He whispered.

“Ditto.”

“So, that’s the only reason you’ve been working on your dolls?” Chibi pressed on, examining a doll that had been playfully tugging at his hood closely. As a fellow master craftsman—even if his interests lay elsewhere—, he had to admit they were extremely good quality. And the fact that they were so full of life and yet decidedly not alive was beyond incredible. He flashed an unreadable look at Amalia from underneath his lashes. “To add a little bit of Sadida to your, as of late, Eliatrope-centric existence?”

Smiling softly to herself, growing bashful all of a sudden, Amalia brought a hand to her heart. A sudden prayer to her father to give her strength and help her steel her resolve as she admitted the other reason her little passion project had almost entirely taken over while she waited for further instructions from the Council.

“Truth be told,” she started, her gaze locking with the Eliatrope King’s warm, brown eyes, her grin widening, unbidden. “I actually wanted to contribute to your kingdom in any way I can.”

“But Lady Amalia, Baltazar doesn’t understand. Isn’t this garden supposed to be of help to us in the first place?” The beige dragon pointed out, perking up from his position on the ground. His diminutive wings likewise flattered, a clear sign of his curiosity. “Why would you need to craft your own Sadida dolls, too?”

“Because just like with this garden,” she gestured around, “this way, I feel like I can take on a more active role as I help you gain the Twelvians’ acceptance.”

“By providing us with weapons?” Phaeris found himself asking, sharing a look with his sister. And baring his sharp canines at the dolls that still tried to climb him like some mere monkey bars.

“In case any nation feels especially disinclined to welcoming you.” She retorted, a shadow passing over her features even as she remained the perfect picture of poise and calmness. “By leading my dolls or ordering them to listen to you and your soldiers, your people would gain a new line of defence; one they most likely would not have been expecting.”

Efrims’s eyes almost bulged out of their sockets when Nora said, “Amalia, you really don’t have to go this far for us…”

As the young dragon could only watch the scene, hopelessness and deep-seated resentment taking root in his heart, that forsaken doll had the nerve to smile warmly and gratefully at her, before glancing up at Yugo, her intentions so clear, they could hardly be called hidden.

“You’ve already done so much for me, Nora. Trust me, this is the least I can do.”

Efrim couldn’t take it anymore. Without another word, he slithered out of his seat and dashed out of the door, ignoring his siblings’ calls and questions. But in his haste, he had missed how Nora’s eyes were trained on him, observing his every move. They had been since they agreed on visiting the garden that same morning, in fact.

The pink light of her irises dimming in sadness and regret, Nora pulled her mask up and averted her gaze, not wanting anyone to notice the stray tear streaming down her cheek.

................................................................................................................

Nighttime used to be her favourite part of the day because of the quiet it brought. Well, her favourite part of the day after morning, when the sound of their native world’s birds singing would rouse her from her sleep and make her jump from her bed to kickstart her duties and encourage the rest of their people to abandon Draconiros’ realm and welcome the new day. And after noon, when everyone would gather around the table and feast on the chefs’ mouthwatering cooking while they recounted their daily misadventures, their bellies full and their hearts even fuller. And after the evening, when the sun’s dying rays would shine down on them, the lazy comfort it brought providing a much-needed respite from their hectic days. And dinner time wasn’t nothing to scoff at either…

Thinking back, she used to love a lot of things.

Now, however?

Now she couldn’t be bothered to find the strength to show genuine interest for anything other than her duties and spending some time with her siblings. And even that could be emotionally and physically taxing after a while. Some days she had to force herself to tease Yugo over his refusal to admit his feelings for Amalia lest she risked they noticed something amiss with her.

She couldn’t decide whether it was all because she was on a different planet and needed time to adjust, or if she was the one who was different. It was even harder to accept she might never be the same.

When she first noticed the changes, the vast expanse of the Krosmoz was her unfailing companion, its stars as endless as the doubts plaguing her mind after the war. Suddenly, her people had to find warmth and comfort in the small things, mainly in each other, instead of turning to their Joybringer for help.

Not like she would have been of much help in the first place.

Seemingly overnight, she went from brimming with life, fluttering around to see how she could be of help with her twin dragon in tow, to quiet and withdrawn. Lifeless. Pretty much like their homeworld after it had been ravaged by the horrors they endured. Her siblings, noticing her abrupt change in demeanour, tried reaching out to her, asking if she was okay or if there was anything they could do to help.

She always replied the same:

“I’m fine.”

But one night, or day, or mid-afternoon snack, or even week—it was hard to tell the time with no dawn or sunset—, after another fitful sleep that left her even more tired than when she first laid down to rest; the truth became impossible to ignore.

She was not fine.

Perhaps the fact that her usual cheerfulness and joie de vivre had been overwhelmed by panic, uncertainty, and the will to survive, tempered with her ability to sense it all sooner—the adrenaline coursing through her veins and fuelling her every waking moment shielding her from the effects of her own mental and physical exhaustion—, but she certainly didn’t remember feeling like this ever before. She could have always asked Qilby if there had been a point in their lives where something similar had happened, but she would essentially be admitting something was wrong with her, after all. The sole possibility scared her more than whatever answer Qilby might have provided.

But as soon as surviving stopped being their driving force?

It was as if she had left her soul back on their home planet.

In a way, she had. They all had.

They had essentially left their lives behind.

After a while, she gave up trying to look for answers to her new emotional state. Most of the time she even gave up trying to get some rest—sleep was always eluding her, anyway. So, she settled for spending her nights in quiet contemplation, her eyes, the colour of the Stasis emanating from their father’s almost ethereal form, fixated on the stellar mantle above her head, her thoughts lost in its infinite abyss. Her bed, untouched. If she was lucky, exhaustion would eventually win the battle, causing her to fall into a restless slumber right where she was, with her arms laying across her lap, her back leaned against her window frame while she was perched on the windowsill with one knee close to herself and her other leg stretched out.

And if she didn’t fall asleep… Well, there were some perks to no longer being able to fulfil your duty as your people’s Joybringer; you got to fall asleep wherever and whenever you wanted.

She only had to be careful not to fall asleep during a Council meeting, lest she risked alerting her siblings of her current state. Now wasn’t the time to worry over something as silly as her insomnia.

Of course, there was one sibling she could never hide anything from. Just like his attempts at keeping her in the dark would always be futile.

She didn’t even need to open her eyes to know he was there. Even without the soft sound of his landing inside her room announcing his presence, she would always be able to tell where he was.

“We need to talk.”

Straight to business as always, huh? She honestly didn’t know if the fact that he had changed too should bring a small consolation to her or make her fall deeper into despair.

“Hello to you too, Efrim.” She deadpanned; her pale eyelids shut. “How are you this fine evening?”

“I’m serious, Nora. We need to talk.”

“When aren’t you serious?” She scoffed. With a sigh, she slid her legs over to the side until they were firmly planted on the cold, polished stone of her floor, and hoisted herself up to properly talk to her twin.

Her ivory skin shining under the moonlight while her robes hid her body from sight, the pink of her eyes seemed to shine brightly in the dark. Her gaze as piercing and hypnotic as a Meow Meow’s as it settled on the dragon.

“So? To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“It’s about the doll.” Efrim cut straight to the chase, paying no mind to his twin’s usual sense of sarcasm.

“Why am I not surprised you’d want to interrupt my beauty sleep over that?” She muttered, moving past her twin and towards a small corner of her room. Close to her window but standing on the opposite side to her door, were two wicker loveseats surrounding a small coffee table. A remnant from Nora’s past self, from when she would welcome anyone into her room just to chat amicably between friends; a fragment of herself she chose to keep even now that the only person who visited her room regularly was Efrim.

And usually just to complain. Right as he was about to do.

Really, it was the same song and dance they’d been doing since Amalia arrived. She’d be a fool not to see where he was trying to get at the moment he slithered into her room.

But ranting was Efrim’s way of escaping his own demons, so she let him rant his little heart out. And after today’s events at the garden, she knew he especially needed it.

“Don’t give me that, Nora.” He called her out on her flimsy excuse. A rare, amused smile graced the Turquoise Twins’ lips at the familiarity of their good-natured teasing. It was a small comfort. “We both know you have the sleeping schedule of an owl.”

“Maybe, but I’m still the prettiest owl you’ll ever meet.” She winked at him over her shoulder.

She turned around before taking a seat in one of the loveseats, gesturing with her hand for Efrim to do the same. Despite the exasperated roll of his eyes, the dragon still obliged her, his tail curling around the small sofa. He looked down sceptically at the table, his head tilted.

“No tea and pastries?” He snarked, flashing his sister an unimpressed look, though his smirk betrayed his true feelings.

She shrugged, “I can’t possibly call Serviette over to bring me some snacks in the middle of the night. Now, can I?”

“Last time I checked, out of the two of us you’re the twin who can create portals to move from one place to another…” He pointed out, lazily resting his head over his claw in amusement.

“And last time I checked,” she shot back, her expression morphing into a mock-pout that barely managed to conceal her mirth. “It’s rude to intrude upon others’ chambers in the middle of the night without warning.”

“As if you need to be told beforehand of when I’ll be dropping by…”

Nora blew a raspberry at him.

Efrim just raised his claws up in surrender. “All I’m saying is you’ve lost your touch, Sister; you used to be a much better hostess—.”

He tried cutting himself off the moment his words registered in his mind, mentally kicking himself at his slip up while praying Nora hadn’t been paying attention to him. His heart sank when he realised she very much had, all traces of mirth gone from her face, having been replaced by the quiet melancholy he had seen etched onto her face countless nights now.

A kind of melancholy he was powerless to get rid of for her.

“What was it that you wanted to discuss, Efrim?” Now she was the one cutting to the chase, bringing her cloak closer to herself for comfort.

Another thing that changed was their relationship. While still close as only an Eliatrope and her dragon twin could be, what once was endless laughter and camaraderie now could only be described as profoundly bittersweet, marked by the kind of bond only tragedy could forge between two people and constant pangs of pain resonating to their very core. It was akin to the feeling of constantly cutting yourself while picking up pieces of broken glass.

Only the broken glass once was themselves.

As much as Efrim wanted to reach out to his twin sister and apologise, to offer some words of comfort, he ultimately decided against it. Whenever Nora was reminded of what she’d lost, even if she would rather eat her own hat rather than admit anything was bothering her, she tended to close herself off and detach herself from the world going on around her.

It was a miracle she seemed willing to hear him out still, instead of teleporting him away outright, but then again, she never really kicked him out, no matter how bad things got. They both needed each other as much as a dying man needed salvation.

So, with a shake of his head, he forced himself to focus back on the reason why he came to his twin’s room in the middle of the night in the first place. The doll.

“I don’t trust her.” He said at last, his voice low and serious.

“What else is new?” Nora couldn’t help but snark at his expense, a hint of bitterness in her voice. She came to instantly regret it when her brother just grew more defensive.

“Would you just stop?!” He hissed, his tail coiling further around the loveseat in aggravation, not unlike how a snake would curl around its prey until it suffocated; its tip shaking like a rattle. “This is serious, Nora!”

Rather than dignify his small outburst with a verbal answer, the pink-clad Eliatrope simply motioned for him to continue. Her pink eyes could only follow his form as he all but jumped out of his chair, his serpent-like appendage acting like a spring and propelling him forward. He began pacing frantically in front of her—if one could even pace around without actual legs, that is.

“She’s up to no good, I just know it!” He started, his arms flailing around dramatically as he tried to rationalise the direction their lives had taken ever since arriving on the World of Twelve. “It just doesn’t make any sense. Why would the twelve gods go out of their way to send us the personification of their blessing to stay in their world, especially when their own followers clearly don’t want us here?

“They’re gods! They’re supposed to look after their followers’ best interests above all else! Instead, they’ve essentially put us before the Twelvians…” He shook his head, gripping at it tightly with his claws as the beginnings of a pounding headache overtook him from trying to make sense of it all. “Mother would have never chosen outsiders over us, her children! She loved us more than anything; she would have never abandoned us!”

At the mention of their mother, both Turquoise Dofus twins momentarily stopped and locked eyes before they couldn’t take it anymore and had to look away. Swallowing thickly, overcome with emotion, Efrim’s voice cracked as he spoke of her. “S-she…she didn’t… she wouldn’t…” He swallowed again, his mouth dry and his eyes watery, “She would have never willingly parted from us… She just wouldn’t!”

Fighting back the tears welling up in his eyes—not helped by Nora’s own misty-eyed expression and the clear sounds of her attempts at stifling her own sobs—he went on. He did his best to remain strong and laser-focused on getting his point across, though it was plain to see he remained anything but stoic.

“And even if they indeed just wanted to help us… Why now? Why didn’t they do anything to stop the Mechasms and prevent the war? Surely the combined might of the Krosmoz’s gods would have been enough to put an end to our suffering. But they’re not our gods, they never were. In their eyes, they had no obligation, moral or otherwise, to care about our survival.

“So why would they suddenly go so far as to create an entirely new Divine Doll just for us—with everyone and their mother on this forsaken planet mentioning how rare and special they are—, with the ‘sole’ purpose of making it easier for their worshippers to welcome us into their home? And why create a Divine Doll, of all things? Surely there must be easier ways to give your blessing other than creating a young woman from scratch only to ship her away immediately after her birth…”

Somewhere along the middle of his rant, the young dragon had forgotten to breathe, too overwhelmed by the many thoughts and questions running through his mind to pay much attention to anything other than getting the words out and out of his system. It didn’t take long for his anxiousness to catch up to him, however, for he now found himself breathing shallowly, his inhaling coming out much more laboured than his exhaling.

A soft, warm hand helped his body slow down, his heaving coming off as less frantic than just a second ago. As his breathing still wasn’t quite back to normal, Nora began to rub gentle circles around his back, her touch a powerful reminder of her presence and her commitment to being there for her twin brother whenever he needed it.

Not once stopping her ministrations, she began to gently guide Efrim through some breathing exercises, her voice barely above a whisper:

“Easy there, Brother. You’re going to accomplish what the Mechasms couldn’t if you keep this up.” She joked lightly to ease up the tension. Furrowing her brow when that didn’t get much of a reaction out of him, she grew more serious. She leaned in closer to him to whisper in his ear. “I’m going to need you to follow my lead, Efrim. Can you do that?”

That earned her a weak nod in response.

“Very good. Now, take a deep breath with me,” she inhaled, deliberately slow, and he copied her actions, “and now, let it all out slowly.” She exhaled, and so did he. “That’s right, you’re doing great. Now, again, take a deep breath,” they repeated the action, “and let it all out…” And again.

Neither of them knew how long they stood there like that, just taking calming breaths and their actions synchronised. In and out, over and over again. Eventually, the dragon’s breathing was back to normal, and he sent his sister a grateful smile.

“Thanks.” He breathed out.

“Don’t mention it.” She smiled back, before her expression sobered up. “You really oughta start being more careful, Brother. Shinonomé warned you about your panic attacks.”

“I know, I know…” He waved her off. “It’s just… How am I supposed to react to this, to her?”

“You could try giving her a chance? Glip was initially just as wary of her and look at him now! He treats her just like any student. Maybe you—" Nora tried, only to be harshly interrupted by her twin swirling around to face her, his dark blue eyes glinting dangerously and causing her to pull her hand away in surprise.

“All he did was give her a chance to worm her way into his defences!” The dragon snapped, weeks of deep-seated resentment over Glip’s perceived weakness coming to the surface with a vengeance. “Don’t you think the events leading up to his change in demeanour are kind of suspicious?”

“What do you mean?” She asked despite herself, the ears of her hat standing in high alert; she brought her hand back into the folds of her robes.

The periwinkle dragon wasted no time in listing off the events taking place that day.

“First, she requests she be allowed to go to his and Baltazar’s class; then she turns out to have been listening and learning about our history and culture long before she even made said request; she effortlessly earned the children’s adoration; and, on her very first day, a little girl has a near fatal accident she just so managed to prevent.” His words were dripping with sarcasm the more he spoke, his snout curling into a sardonic smile before it turned into a vicious sneer. “Don’t you see, Nora? Everything that happened that day was a deliberate attempt to gain his trust!”

Nora actually gasped in horror when he shook his head in disgust and muttered, “I wouldn’t be surprised if she deliberately put Lori’s life in danger just to make herself look like a hero…”

“Efrim!” She hissed, scandalised he would even think such a thing.

After the war, Nora could no longer bring herself to see the best in everyone like she used to, which was why, while she wasn’t above riling Yugo up over his relationship with her and the fact that she was undeniably beautiful—and totally her type—, Nora chose to remain mostly neutral towards Amalia. While she remained cautious, having learned from example, she ultimately understood only time would tell her true intentions.

But for some reason, she just couldn’t picture the beaming doll she’d seen laughing with her brother on her balcony and becoming starry-eyed over every little thing doing something as heinous as knowingly endangering a child to serve her own purposes.

“C-come on, Efrim…” She tried to reach out to her twin, her voice wobbly. “Don’t you think that’s a little too harsh? After all, Yugo is practically glued to her side, and he seems to trust her—” Once again, the pink-eyed Eliatrope was cut off by her dragon twin’s unforgiving rebuttals.

“Yugo is blind, Sister!” He snapped, his voice, sharp and stern, echoing around the walls. Immediately, Nora realised he had to be in a very agitated state, for his crystalline wings involuntarily unfolded around him, glinting in the moonlight. But rather than the beautiful display she was used to, now it only made him look bigger, more intimidating.

It only highlighted the beast he had been forced to become.

She idly wondered if that was the last thing his enemies saw during the war before he put an end to their lives.

Efrim himself was too out of it to notice his own accidental shapeshifting, so he simply spat, though not any less venomously. “You and I both know—Shukrute, we all know! — that, regardless of what he tells himself to sleep at night, he is absolutely smitten with that doll! Our fearless king is reduced to nothing but a lovesick Bow Wow whenever she is around! Her every wish is his command, and we’re all going to pay dearly for his weakness.”

“While it’s true Yugo has grown particularly close to her despite his initial reservations,” Nora reluctantly admitted, knowing her twin had a point—no matter how much Yugo tried to deny it. “He is still our king; we must have faith in him and his decisions. Besides, it’s not like he holds all the power. Don’t forget, Efrim, together, all of us form the Council of Six. If any one of us had anything to say on the matter, Yugo would no doubt listen to us.”

“Except we already told him our concerns and he brushed them off, remember?” He pointedly reminded her, his mind tracing back to those meetings soon after the doll arrived, and she asked to be taught by the Ivory Twins.

“From the very beginning, Glip and I were against the doll staying with us, but Yugo insisted we just couldn’t kick her out because it could offend the gods and lead to us getting into heaps of trouble. And when she requested to become Baltazar and Glip’s student, Glip was vehemently against it, but Yugo essentially strong-armed him into accepting because he just can’t say no to his little flower!”

“And look at how that turned out!” Nora exclaimed, opening a portal to close the distance between herself and her brother, her hand gently cupping the side of his snout, begging him to listen to her; to try and understand. “Glip came to realise he was wrong about her and now treats her like any of his students.”

She had to stifle a frustrated groan when Efrim countered, “She manipulated him into accepting her, you mean. You forget the circumstances revolving that day are far too convenient for her to be a mere coincidence. And all because Yugo allowed for it to happen…” He grumbled, shaking his head in distaste.

“And you forget it wasn’t just Yugo who insisted Glip gave her a chance!” Nora shot back, growing frustrated with her dragon twin. “Baltazar, for starters, was just as willing to welcome Amalia in as Glip was unwilling to, and I don’t see you trying to claim Amalia somehow won him over as well.”

“Because I don’t need to!” He all but screeched, throwing his arms to the sides in exasperation. “That’s the worst part! It’s not that Yugo’s clearly fallen for that doll’s siren song, or even that she’s managed to turn Glip away from his most primal instincts, but the fact that the rest of you refuse to see anything wrong with her!”

“The rest of… us?” She echoed with a small voice, hurt by the fact that Efrim seemed to think she didn’t have his back. But he just went on, not sparing her a second glance.

“Just like earlier; somehow you think it’s a good idea to entrust what’s essentially a Sadida demigoddess, a creature whose power over nature is second only to her divine father, with her own garden. And you don’t even suspect it might come back to bite you.” He scoffed derisively, letting out a sarcastic, mirthless chuckle.

The young dragon was far too out of it to notice, but Nora watched with concerned, pink eyes when his wings began trembling, letting out a buzzing sound not unlike an insect. She flinched, unconsciously taking a step forward to try and offer some comfort—Efrim’s wings only acted like that when he was in a very distressed emotional state.

“She’s literally created nigh-unstoppable weapons only she can control, Nora!” He pressed on, finally taking flight and coming to hover over his twin as he looked her dead in the eye. “And you don’t see anything wrong with it.”

“Amalia says her Sadida Dolls are her way of offering her help in case we’re ever under attack.” Nora pointed out, but her voice sounded distant, distracted, and not entirely convinced herself.

“And you believed her.” Efrim deadpanned. He shook his head with a sneer. “She’s putting a knife to our throats and you’re actually thanking her for it!”

“How can you be so sure Yugo hasn’t taken everything into account, Efrim?” She challenged, refusing to stand down even as her brother was literally looming over her. “Don’t you remember? Yugo said we could use this opportunity to learn more about the Twelvians and stay ahead of the game if they ever declare war against us.” She made a show of shrugging, though her words were purposeful and irrefutable, “Today we’ve learned Sadidas fight using enchanted, animated dolls; wouldn’t you count that as an advantage?”

“We’ll need much more than that if we want to survive whatever that doll and this world’s gods have planned for us, Sister.” He told her ominously, a puff of smoke coming out of his nostrils.

The Turquoise Twins remained like that, locked into a staring contest, for what felt like an eternity. Despite the intensity in their eyes, all each of them wanted was for the other to try and see their point of view. Each passing day, Nora grew increasingly worried over her twin’s transformation, how he went from cautious but kind and welcoming to paranoid and hostile. Efrim, on the other hand, was desperate for his sister to move on from the uncaring funk the loss of their world had awakened within her and open her eyes to the truth.

And the truth was, the Divine Doll just couldn’t be trusted.

Eventually, the fire in the young dragon’s dark blue eyes flickered practically out of existence, being reduced to nothing but a tired spark. His guarded expression morphing into quiet resignation, he finally averted his gaze, letting out a heavy sigh as he rested his head against his claw.

A small gasp leaving her, Nora was about to reach out and try to console her twin brother when his voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

“I love you, Nora, more than anything. And I know you love me too.” The look he sent her was enough to break her heart in two. “I’d just wish you would listen to me for once.”

And with that and one last flap of his wings, he dashed out of her still open window, leaving Nora alone in the darkness. A few seconds ticked by where the Eliatrope just remained where she was, motionless, her expression one of shock. And then, unable to stop herself, she choked out a broken sob, falling to her knees as she cried into her palms.

Not that long ago, she and Efrim rarely argued. Their siblings would admit to being jealous of their close, unbreakable bond. Their days would be spent laying down on the grass and lazily drawing shapes from the clouds above or gathering flowers to make crowns to gift their subjects to. They would laugh, and joke, and sing, and lead dances in the middle of the main square. During festivals, while the religious aspects fell within Mina’s jurisdiction, the youngest Primordial Twins would lead their people into the actual festivities, organising games and banquets, and just doing about everything in their power to make the subjects they loved so much feel as happy, lucky, and content with their lives as they felt.

The war changed all that. Now the Eliatropes’ Joybringers couldn’t find it in themselves to feel any joy, let alone share it with everybody else. And their dependence on each other had become as much of a comfort as it was a wound they kept reopening whenever they interacted.

Yes, even since the war, things had changed. For everyone, herself included. In fact, maybe she was the first to change. But nothing had changed quite like Efrim did.

....................................................................................................................

He could still vividly remember the curious smiles plastered on their children’s faces at the arrival of their new neighbours. To be honest, he’d be lying if he said it was only the children that were ecstatic by the fact that they finally had someone to share their world with. It was as if their mother had finally answered her children’s pleas.

Make no mistake, under the Eliatrope Goddess’ care, her followers never wanted for anything. Food and water were plentiful; under the Council of Six’s guidance, their civilisation thrived; they lived in perfect harmony with nature; and the Eliatropes never knew famine, corruption, pestilence, or war…

The one thing their mother failed to provide them with were companions they could learn from and share their ways with, however. The Eliatropes were the only sapient beings on their home planet, and though that wasn’t without its perks, over the course of the centuries, they found themselves wishing for more, their curiosity for the many wonders beyond the frontiers of their world growing more powerful by the day. Harder to ignore.

Needless to say, there was much rejoicing when the Mechasms arrived, looking for a place to call home. Naturally, they were welcomed with open arms, for the Eliatropes had never known ‘stranger danger’.

That was a lesson that was bound to be etched onto the very fabric of their race’s history.

Against all odds, at first, everything was even better than it had been when the portal-making race still lived by itself. It didn’t take long for Eliatropes and Mechasms to form an almost symbiotic bond. The latter used their vast powers to improve the Eliatropes’ already almost idyllic lives, while the former didn’t just offer the Mechasms a place to stay, but they showed them the secrets of their own magic.

For years, it was a match made in Inglorium. If asked, any Eliatrope would immediately sing the Mechasms’ praises, for that deep was their respect and admiration for their new (and not-so-new) neighbours. Whereas the Mechasms, mysterious as they could be, were nothing but gentle and supportive when it came to the wakfu-wielding people.

One race was the other’s fervent supporter, while the other was the other’s staunchest defender.

Which made their betrayal all the more devastating.

The day the Mechasms betrayed them completely out of nowhere wasn’t just the day the Mechasm War started; it was also the day the Eliatropes had their hearts broken for the very first time in their millennia-long history.

Soon, horrified screams replaced giddy laughter. The images of terrified children crying their little eyes out as they desperately called for their parents—who might not even be alive anymore—were burned into his brain. The happy memories where those same children’s favourite game was climbing up the Mechasms’ huge, but ultimately harmless, forms reduced to cinders by that same fire.

But the one memory that was fundamentally changed was that of their attackers; gone was the warm, grateful feeling that used to spread all over his chest concerning the foreign race, now all that was left was seething hatred whenever he thought back to their lifeless, uncaring eyes as they massacred his people. Sometimes, he still couldn’t believe the vile monster ravaging their land with his armies was the same kind and caring Prince Orgonax who used to be so beloved by everyone. Now he could only reminisce on the bitter hatred and bloodlust reflected in his glowing eyes whenever he thought back to him, a shiver going down his spine at the memories.

Their skies turned red from the wanton destruction going on underneath, while rivers of blood streamed down the desolate land. Everywhere he looked, all he could see were flashes of blue and red clashing against each other, until one of the two colours all but vanished. He remembered cheering to himself whenever it was the red flash that died out, and his eyes stinging as he fought to suppress broken sobs from tearing from his throat when it was the blue light that flickered out first.

And yet, nothing was more heartbreaking than the silence, even amidst the chaos and bloodshed. For the first time ever since the Crimson Twins could remember, the loving, nurturing echo at the back of his head he had been hearing since birth was silent. Their Mother’s voice was gone, his connection to Her all but lost.

He had never felt so hopeless in his life. And if he couldn’t hope, then did his people have a future at all?

In a desperate attempt to quiet the unforgiving doubts, he spent those days doing everything in his power to fend off attacks and protect the innocent, ensuring everyone was safe as he led them away to whatever safe zone Qilby and Shinonomé had set up to treat their injuries and offer their subjects something to drink and eat. A place to stay until the nightmare was finally over.

And in between fighting, narrowly avoiding deathly attacks, rescuing civilians, and holding onto the very last threads of his sanity to not shut down completely, there was one thought in his mind:

He kept praying with all his might Nora was fine.

When he finally did reunite with his sister, the dam finally broke. Weeks of pent-up emotion tore painful, relieved sobs from his throat as he embraced his twin tightly against his chest, feeling a certain wetness against his scales where her own face was buried. It was a miracle neither her or their siblings had died, although the same couldn’t be said for many of their subjects—warriors and civilians alike had lost everything in the blink of an eye.

Could they ever rebuild their lives at all?

The Mechasms were once their greatest friends and yet, they turned their backs on the Eliatropes without hesitation, let alone an explanation. And now that forsaken doll claimed they had the twelve gods’ blessing and she was meant to be proof enough of that.

“Don’t make me laugh.” He derisively thought aloud as he used his forearm to furiously wipe away the insistent tears pooling in his eyes.

His majestic wings stretching to their full length as he glided under the night sky, he didn’t know where he was going, just that he needed to distance himself as far away from the palace, his siblings, Nora, and the doll as possible.

So that glorified ragdoll wanted to earn their trust? Well, fat chance. Because if there was anything he’d learned from the Mechasm War, that was that he’d much rather die than make the same mistake that cost their people so much. Even if he became the Eliatropes’ last line of defence against that green-haired schemer, so be it. He would never let them get away with whatever it was they were planning. Even if it was the last thing he did.

...................................................................................................................

“Is it selfish of me to be looking forward to being able to really explore beyond the confines of the island the most?” Yugo wondered aloud with a heavy sigh, his body sprawling all over his desk as he—thankfully—finished with today’s batch of paperwork.

Watching his brother’s antics in amusement, Adamaï chuckled, “I know what you mean.” His wings kept him aloft as he scanned over his brother’s small collection of memorabilia. To the naked eye, a shelf filled to the brim with trinkets would be nothing but ‘small’, but the twins still vividly remembered what their room used to look like back in their home planet. Or rather, it would be more accurate to say they didn’t remember what it looked like, having been overrun by the countless souvenirs they brought home from their many travels over the years.

Really, they had so much stuff there was no sight of their walls.

That was one of the reasons why they no longer shared a room after arriving on the World of Twelve—their siblings had strictly forbidden it. They dared to hope it would take the Emerald Dofus twins slightly longer to turn their living spaces into the world’s most disorganised museum exhibit if they both had to start from scratch.

Now, normally, such an attempt would have been futile, as Yugo and Adamaï would have already elevated their rooms to the dubious honour of being storage closets with beds; but the rising tensions with the Twelvians and the Eliatropes’ subsequent isolation on Oma Island made moving towards that goal feel like crawling at a snail’s pace.

Still, Yugo had found a way not to let something as silly as ‘self-imposed isolation’ deter him, hence his small, but still growing, collection.

Draconic eyes scanning the shelves, Adamaï perked up at the sight of something very interesting. Picking up the torn remnants of the Gobbowl match tickets from their visit to Bonta placed beside a bowl of some sort, he mused aloud, “Amalia seemed very excited with her new garden.”

“Yeah, and here I thought she couldn’t possibly be more excited than when I first showed it to her.” Yugo said, throwing his hands above his head and stretching until he heard a loud pop! “Can’t say I blame her, though. It’s only been two weeks and she’s already doing incredible things.”

“As expected of a Divine Doll.” Adamaï concurred. He glanced at his brother over his shoulder. In the privacy of his room, he had taken his cloak off and hung it on his chair. “You told me at first she was very apprehensive of being given her own garden, right?”

Leaning back on his chair with his arms crossed and his eyes closed, Yugo hummed at the memory. “That’s right. She felt she was imposing herself on us. Luckily, I got her to see how ridiculous that was. She’s not imposing herself on us; if anything, we’re the ones who’re always relying on her help!”

Now it was the dragon’s turn to hum noncommittally. “That’s true, I suppose.” With one last glance over, he put the tickets back in their place. His wings still outstretched and flapping in mid-air, he turned to face his twin. “Then again, isn’t that what she’s here for? To help us?”

This time, he was met with silence. Yugo’s attention was trained on the markings running up and down his ceiling, weak pulses of wakfu making them light up every so often. He was clearly lost in thought. Adamaï sighed good-naturedly, for he was very used to his kind of scene happening and his brother had already explained everything to him when he went to look for him in the library right after parting ways with Amalia that day, anyway. He already had everything he needed.

Although his mind couldn't help going back to what happened today in the garden. The weak undercurrents of wakfu running through his veins and flashing in his mind told him Yugo, too, was bothered by it. The white-and-blue dragon had a very good inkling that was actually what Yugo had summoned him to his room for in the first place.

Joined by an endlessly adventurous thrive, the Emerald Twins weren’t ones to stay cooped up in their rooms for long, mostly just to sleep and, especially in Yugo’s case, tend to the kingly duties he had been neglecting during the day.

And considering how often the latter occurrence took place… Well, let’s just say it was no wonder the Eliatrope King wasn’t the most enthused to be in his room. Which at the same time meant that whenever he summoned you there, it was usually something serious.

Letting himself fall to the floor as he willed his wings out of existence, Adamaï leaned back against the wall, his claws on his hips and his tail thumping the floor as he patiently waited for Yugo to speak up his mind any minute from now. He knew it wouldn’t take long for him to cut to the chase and get straight to the point.

“Did you know what she was really mesmerised by at first was the ground used for the room?”

…maybe it would take some prodding.

“The ground? How so?” Adamaï immediately smacked himself for playing along despite himself.

“Because, since it was volcanic rock, it was fertile. Meaning she can grow things more easily.” He explained casually. “Apparently, Sadidas need fertile, workable soil to use many of their powers.”

“I’m guessing you just informed Chibi and Grougal of that fact?” Adamaï guessed, his head tilting to the side in surprise when his brother just shook his head instead.

“I didn’t even know about that until Amalia told me, when she saw the garden.” He admitted, tearing himself from his desk and spinning his chair around to give his dragon twin his full attention. “That was all Chibi and Grougal.”

“Ever the observant ones, I see.”

“Well, they are our people’s greatest inventors. That’s gotta mean something besides them just being good at tinkering and acting like a pair of interior design snobs.”

“And did you know about her plans for the garden?” Adamaï pressed on, his voice wasn’t accusatory—at neither Amalia or Yugo—, but genuinely curious.

It took the king a second to get what his twin was trying to say. His form was slightly hunched over, with his forearms resting on his knees and his clasped hands in the space in between. After a beat of silence, understanding dawned on him and he shook his head again.

“I knew she wanted to prepare it for when we started telling her what we need her to grow, but I had no idea she intended to grow her own animated dolls, if that’s what you mean, Ad.”

Again, Adamaï just nodded. “I was just curious, that’s all. Though I can’t deny I was a little alarmed when Amalia mentioned the explosive ones.”

Both brothers couldn’t help but laugh at the memory. It wasn’t easy catching the white-and-blue dragon off-guard, so when something managed to surprise even him… Well, then you knew it was a pretty big deal. And, truth be told, the face he pulled when Amalia mentioned the possibility of making her dolls explode just as he was playing with one was simply priceless.

“I think we were all quite taken aback that something so small and cute could be such a powerhouse.” Yugo pointed out, wiping a tear off his face, his laughter slowly dying down.

Adamaï closed the distance between the two and placed a claw over his shoulder, smiling down at his twin with a knowing look, “Yeah, well, then it shouldn’t be all that surprising that Amalia was the one to accomplish that.” He winked. “It’s in her blood, after all!”

Wait, did Divine Dolls even have blood…?

He was broken out of his musings by the almost painfully lovesick sigh that escaped his twin’s lips, “Yeah, you’re right. If anyone knows how to be both cute and powerful, that’s Amalia…”

As soon as the words registered in his mind, Yugo’s eyes widened and he clamped his mouth shut. He chanced a cautious look up at Adamaï, and promptly buried his increasingly hot face into his hands at the smug smirk curling at his twin’s thick, blue lips with a loud groan.

“Shut up.” He grumbled, though it sounded a little muffled.

“I didn’t say anything.” Adamaï tried to sound as neutral as possible, but he couldn’t keep his voice from cracking in amusement at his twin’s predicament. If his vehement denial of the obvious wasn’t so frustrating, he’d be doubled over with laughter by now.

“You didn’t have to.” The flustered king countered, stubbornly refusing to look the dragon in the eye. “Ever since you hit your first growth spurt, you don’t know how to school your expression into something friendly. Either you look all serious and menacing, or you look absolutely deranged. There is just no in-between.”

“Excuse you!” Adamaï gasped, offended, a claw to his chest. He huffed in outrage. “I’ll have you know I can look perfectly normal if I feel like it! Not once have I scared Amailia off, now, have I?”

Now that Yugo was standing to his full height, he was practically in Adamaï’s face as the two of them grumbled at each other. “Exactly! Your problem is that you can’t play it cool to save your life! The moment you have to plaster a smile on your face instead of letting it happen naturally, you get this psycho grimace instead.”

“I do not!”

“Yes, you do!”

“Do not!”

“Do too!”

“Do not!”

“Do too!”

“Do not—!”

“Uh… Is this a bad time?”

At the unexpected sound of the new voice, the two of them whirled their heads around so fast it was a miracle they didn’t give themselves whiplash. There, standing before them and staring at them with the kind of long-suffering resignation only a little sister could possess was Nora, who had just stepped out of one of her diamond-shaped portals.

“Nora!” Yugo exclaimed, annoyance tingeing his voice. “You can’t just come in like that! Use the door!”

“We’re Eliatropes.” She deadpanned, an eyebrow raised. “Making portals is literally what sets us apart from the other races in the Krosmoz. Why do we even need doors in the first place? We can just go pretty much wherever we like!”

“She’s got a point there.” Adamaï muttered.

“Well, it’s still common courtesy to at least respect other people’s privacy by not barging into their rooms unannounced.” Yugo couldn’t believe he had to even explain that. Exasperated, he pinched the bridge of his nose as he added through gritted teeth, “Especially now that we actually have a non-Eliatrope guest living with us.”

“Alright, alright.” She rolled her eyes, hoping to get it over with. “I promise not to teleport myself into Amalia’s room unannounced.” She smirked at the way Yugo was scowling at her—she had very deliberately not said anything about not going into his room unannounced.

A smirk stretching over her lips, she cocked an eyebrow while her hands came to rest on her hips and she shifted her weight to one leg, striking a cheeky pose, “What’s the matter, Brother? Afraid I might see something I shouldn’t?”

Face burning even hotter, Yugo just made a strangled sound while his hands mimicked wringing her pretty, little neck in aggravation.

Chuckling at the display, only to pretend to have a dry throat when his twin flashed him a death glare, Adamaï said, “So, what brings you here?”

The way she seemed to shrink into herself, all semblance of mirth and sass completely gone, immediately got their attention.

“It’s about Amalia…” She paused, swallowing thickly. “And Efrim.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, the Emerald Twins tensed up and exchanged worried glances. They had a very good hunch as to what their conversation might be about.

For a moment, a heavy silence hung over all three of them, as neither dared to say a word; they didn’t even know how to begin the conversation. So they just stood there, in the middle of Yugo’s room, bathed by the light blue hue coming from the artificial stone torches perched over the walls.

In the end, it was their king who spoke up first, letting out a heavy sigh. “Come on. It’s uncomfortable talking while standing up like this.” He beckoned them deeper into his room. “Why don’t you lie down on the bed, Nora? You look like you could use some rest.”

As much as she hated to admit it, Yugo had a point. After her argument with Efrim the previous night, she hadn’t been able to sleep a wink, and her eyes were bloodshot and puffy as a result of both her sleep deprivation and night-long cries. Not even by following her siblings around like usual did Nora grow tired enough to drift off to sleep. The fact that no one had seen Efrim since he left Amalia’s garden only added to her worries.

When she finally flopped herself down onto her brother’s bed, soft and comfortable, she had to summon every ounce of will power she possessed not to go out like a light. Which was ironic, given all day she wanted nothing more than to find a place she could rest. But nothing about her life was fair anymore, so she would just have to suck it up and pretend things were fine.

Nothing new, really.

“Had a rough night?” Yugo guessed, offering her a sympathetic smile as he sat down opposite her, at the foot of his bed. Meanwhile, Adamaï opted to remain upright, although leaning against the sculpted frame of his poster bed.

“You could say that, yes.” She smiled sadly in return. For a moment, neither said a word, until, “I’m worried about him, guys.”

“He’s clearly not taking Amalia’s stay well.” Adamaï observed.

Nora snorted, “That’s putting it mildly…”

“He was clearly out to get her yesterday. All those questions about her dolls being weapons, and the way he crouched down on the floor, as if ready to pounce…” Yugo trailed off, shaking his head in frustration. “Clearly, Efrim is still convinced Amalia is a threat, and it shows.”

“Yeah, and Amalia is aware of it, too.” The girl pointed out, her eyes falling to her fidgeting fingers on her lap.

“She is?” Adamaï asked, surprised.

“It’s hard not to notice the way Amalia basically shrinks whenever the two are in close proximity.” The casualness of her tone did not take away from the truth of her statement. “She knows Efrim doesn’t like her and it makes her want to stay as far away from him as possible.” She then added with a resigned shrug, “Though, again, it’s not like he does a great job at hiding how he feels.”

“This is such a mess!” Yugo exclaimed tiredly, his hands running through his dirty blond locks and yanking slightly at them in frustration. His wakfu wings—always in sync to his mood swings— went from flickering brightly due to his troubled emotions to lowering slightly, as despondent as he felt. “If we really want the Twelvians to trust us, we can’t afford to have one of our own distrust of Amalia so much! That would only complicate matters, or cause some diplomatic incident, or make them even more suspicious of us, or-or… or I don’t know!”

“Not to mention, Efrim is a member of the Council of Six like us, the rulers of the Eliatrope race.” Adamaï was quick to point out, wincing slightly when he realised he was only adding to his twin’s stress. Though not before saying, “If word gets out that one of us thinks so little of Amalia, the Twelvians could use the excuse of trying to protect one of their gods’ children to attack us or kick us out.”

“Thank you for that summation, Ad.” Yugo deadpanned, his hand holding his head as he sent a look his twin’s way.

“Right, sorry. Not helping.” He said meekly.

Groaning loudly, their king jumped to his feet and paced around the room, the motion not unlike that of a caged animal. Stopping abruptly, he threw his head back, his hands having once again found their way to his hair while his wings remained firmly pressed to his head.

“I just don’t understand the source of Efrim’s animosity!” He complained, throwing his arms to his side. Under his siblings’ curious gaze, he resumed his pacing. “Yes, it’s true Amalia’s arrival was very abrupt and unexpected. I think we can all agree I was the one the most taken aback by it. But Amalia’s presence contributed greatly to the most significant progress we’ve been making in being welcomed by the Twelvians!”

“Nobody denies that, Yugo.” Adamaï said placatingly, sliding off the bed frame and walking towards his twin to rest a pair of comforting claws on his shoulders. “All our subjects know it’s all thanks to Amalia that we were even invited to Bonta. And, from what you told me, she was rather well-liked when you two visited the village.”

“You visited the village together?” Nora questioned, surprised. She had no idea. Then she realised they most likely went without even Adamaï around to act as their chaperone and she found herself feeling personally slighted over having missed such a perfect chance to annoy her brother over his date with his crush like any good little sister would.

Yugo, sensing her intentions, addressed her over his dragon twin’s shoulder, “Yes, to visit Qilby and Shinonomé, nothing more!” Growing more serious and ignoring her mutterings of how ‘she’d have to ask Qilby and Shinonomé later’, he focused back on Adamaï, “And exactly! I simply don’t understand how Efrim could be so judgemental of someone he barely even knows.”

“Can’t you?”

Nora’s quiet yet piercing question immediately drew her brothers’ attention, with Adamaï turning around to look at her while Yugo leaned over his twin’s shoulder to face her better. They exchanged a confused glance before the king muttered, “Um… no? It’s exactly as we’ve been saying, Nora; Amalia’s been a huge help practically since she arrived, and Efrim’s hostility towards her could be taken as an insult by Twelvians and gods alike.”

“True, but that didn’t stop you from keeping your distance from her or suspecting her of having ulterior motives when she arrived.” Hoisting herself up from the bed as well, she pointed an accusatory finger in Yugo’s direction, the action and her words feeling like a suckerpunch.

While he tried to recover from the blow, she went on, “Because you said so yourself; you were just as suspicious of her true intentions when we first met her. And although for a while you kept good on your promise of keeping her company, you also avoided her for weeks! Shouldn’t you understand Efrim’s feelings better than anyone?”

For a while, Yugo just stood there, his eyes wide and his mouth gaping as he struggled to come up with an appropriate response to her question, even if it was clearly rhetorical. Because, the truth was, Nora was right. He was the first one to distrust Amalia as soon as he heard of her presence on Oma Island. And he did spend weeks keeping her at arms’ length or outright avoiding her altogether after he feared they’d got too close during their visit to the beach, precisely because he felt he couldn’t afford to let his guard down.

But the worst part was that, deep down, he still had doubts. They would creep up on him when he least expected it, like some thieving Srams lurking in the shadows as they waited for their prey to make their presence known to rob them blind. One moment, he would be happily conversing with Amalia, laughing and joking over everything and anything under the sun, and the next, something she said would send him spiralling down paranoia. Suddenly, he would internally question her true reasons for saying what she said, analysing it from every angle as the ever present fear of betrayal lingered heavy on his mind.

In the blink of an eye, Amalia would transform from an innocent flower who could never hurt anyone, to a scheming seductress with horns and a tail pointer than an Osamodas’ right in front of him.

And then, as soon as those fears came, they would be gone when her sweet, melodious voice called out to him, sounding genuinely concerned.

A part of him was beginning to understand the doll’s aversion to Eliatrope portals. He himself was beginning to feel like he kept jumping in and out of one whenever they interacted and those doubts assaulted him, the neverending exercise leaving him quite dizzy.

He didn’t know where he found the strength to say, “But I am spending time with her, and learning more things about her every day, Nora.” His voice growing more confident with every word he spoke, he pointed his glowing palm to the floor underneath him and materialised a portal that led him right beside his sister, who regarded him with a raised eyebrow, listening intently.

He leaned forward slightly to be at the same eye-level as her and placed his hands on her pink-clad shoulders reassuringly, not unlike what Adamaï had done to him mere moments before. “And each day she’s giving me more reasons to trust her.”

Instead of fighting him, the pink-eyed Eliatrope just hung her head in defeat, her snow-white bangs following her movements. “And that’s Efrim's greatest fear. That no matter how much time we spend together with her or how much we claim to know her, we still won’t know anything at all and she’ll turn her back on us.”

Like the Mechasms.

None of them needed to voice their thoughts to know the others were thinking the same thing as them. It wasn’t necessary, not after the war with their former allies had left a permanent scar on Eliatrope history and on each and every one of them—some were just more visible than others.

It was one of the reasons settling down on the World of Twelve had been such a difficult and risky choice. They were driven off their own world by those who once were their closest allies. Could they really risk suffering the same fate at the hands of countless races that were so different from them?

In the end, desperation and necessity won out over cautiousness, and the rest was history.

“That’s what weighs heavily on Efrim’s mind, guys.” Nora continued, her voice tremulous as tears welled up in her eyes, her concern for her twin apparent. “He’s not the same he once was, and I fear he’ll never be. He… He just… he doesn’t seem like he can move on from what happened!”

“And he’s terrified that what happened with the Mechasms will repeat itself with Amalia. That we’ll open our hearts and our home to an outsider only for her to stab us in the back like a treacherous Sram.” Adamaï concluded, his voice distant as he watched the tears streaming down his sister’s face. He clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly, feeling powerless to stop her tears and offer her some comfort while Yugo gently wiped them off and tried to reassure her.

“I understand, Nora.” Her older brother said softly, lifting her chin with one finger to get her to look at him. “Believe me, I do. But trusting Amalia is a risk we must take if we want to be able to call this world our home one day. It really is our best shot.”

“He’s right.” Adamaï agreed, finally willing his feet to move and to stand beside his brother, supporting him. “But I’m afraid Efrim’s attitude towards Amalia will only complicate matters.”

Wiping the remaining tears off, she sighed. “I know, and I’ve tried getting him to at least dial it down, but he refuses to back down. He sees himself as our last line of defence against her, or something. And I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Why don’t you try talking to Amalia instead?” Yugo offered.

She perked up at that. “What?”

“Yeah, if one side is too stubborn to listen, then maybe you’ll have better luck with the other.” Yugo explained. Then, the all-too-familiar dopey grin they’d come to associate with whenever he was thinking of the Divine Doll came back with a vengeance. “I’m sure if you tell Amalia not to take Efrim’s attitude too personally or you explain to her why he acts like that in the first place, she’ll understand.”

Nora considered it, bringing a finger to her chin pensively. She supposed that could work. She’d just have to be careful not to break Efrim’s trust by revealing anything too personal.

She gave a satisfied nod and a smile. “Very well, I’ll try talking to Amalia about it.”

“That’s great!” Yugo grinned back.

“Now, Brother…” He did not like the sound of her voice one bit. It was innocent, too innocent. “Why don’t you tell me all about your date with Amalia at the village?”

Yugo just teleported himself out of his room.

....................................................................................................................

“And that’s all for today, class. Don’t forget, starting next week, we’ll be meeting up at the training grounds back at the village to formally begin your training on Wakfung.” Glip called after his students as they filed out of the classroom, chattering excitedly amongst themselves.

Amalia picked up the rear end of the throngs of Eliatrope children walking out of the room, sighing in relief, glad that the day was finally over. Since she had been working tirelessly on her garden and her dolls, she had neglected her studies a bit, more specifically, her homework. Meaning she had had a lot of catching up to do the night before to be able to hand in her reports and essays on time.

She would have also had to give an oral presentation on her findings on her assigned topic regarding Eliatrope worshipping practices if it hadn’t been for class mercifully ending just as it was about to be her turn.

She might have prepared a presentation on Eliatrope worship, but she was going to spend all night thanking Sadida for that save.

The doll was about to cross the threshold leading to the palace halls and back to her room when she felt the curled end of Glip’s staff grabbing hold of her shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. She almost let out a resigned whimper, already lamenting the fact that she hadn't been so lucky after all and her teachers were about to make her share her findings with them.

“Lady Amalia, do you have a moment?” Baltazar’s kind voice said, his grandfatherly tone revealing nothing.

“Yeah, sure. Of course…” She all but squeaked pitifully, turning her body fully so she was facing her teachers. She took a deep breath and began to recite the speech she had prepared for the occasion, “Every year, during the month that best corresponds to the Twelvian Descendre, the Eliatrope people gather to celebrate their goddess’ greatest feats: the creation of the Krosmoz, the birth of the Primordial Eliatropes and their dragons, and the creation of—.”

“My Lady, what are you blabbering about?” Glip cut her off, confused.

“Um, I’m explaining what I’ve found out about my assigned topic on Eliatrope worship?” Amalia replied, unsure, her eyes darting this and that way. “Isn’t that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

Dragon and Eliatrope shook their heads. “Not at all.” Baltazar said.

“Huh.” Now Amalia was the one who was confused. “Then what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Well, you see,” Glip started. With a sigh, he walked further into the room and hooked his staff with one of the rings hanging from the ceilings that the kids used to practise their moves. Hoisting himself up, he somersaulted in the air until he came to rest atop his twin’s head, peering down at the gaping doll with an unreadable expression (and feeling very smug about his physical feat). “As you know, next week—.”

“Did you really have to do all that just to make it to Baltazar’s head?” The dragon questioned, doing his best to send his brother an accusatory glare even though doing so was considerably difficult when your target was out of your line of vision. “Couldn’t you have just opened a portal? Glip, you’re the Eliatrope!”

The Wakfung master’s expression morphed into a resigned grimace. He went on all fours to lean over the dragon’s head and look his twin in the eye. “Mastering the art of Wakfung requires both physical fortitude and agility, not just proficiency at manipulating wakfu. You’d know this if you didn’t spend all your time with your snout stuck in a book.”

An annoyed puff of smoke abandoning his nostrils and almost causing Glip to choke, the beige dragon was quick to shoot back, “And if you didn’t spend so much time jumping around like a monkey, you would recognise there is no point in mastering Wakfung if you do not know the legacy you’re trying to protect!”

Amalia could only blink as the two people she’d come to see as wise and esteemed masters bickered with each other like children. In a way, she supposed she should be more than used to the sight by now. In the few months she’d been living on Oma Island, she’d come to witness firsthand and on more than one occasion that the Primordial Eliatropes and their dragons had a very interesting relationship. One minute, they were the very picture of leadership, diplomacy, and refinement, and the next they would have the most childish spats over the silliest things.

She didn’t know if she should find it funny or embarrassing that, more often than not, Yugo always found himself squabbling with his siblings.

She shifted in place uncomfortably, digging her big toe into the floor, unsure of what to do. On the one hand, she really didn’t want to interrupt, but on the other hand, they had yet to tell her what they wanted from her in the first place and she was growing rather impatient. She still had a garden to tend to! And who knew the kind of trouble her dolls would get into if she wasn’t there to watch over them until she had them fully under her command?

At last, she had enough. To be honest, she would have summoned forth a set of tendrils to wrap around the twins’ forms to pull them apart, but seeing as, technically speaking, they were still her teachers and, thus, her superiors in a way, the doll limited herself to clearing her throat loudly to gain their attention.

It was almost comical the way they abruptly stopped their bickering to turn their heads to her.

“Sorry to interrupt, Master Glip, Master Baltazar, but could you please tell me what you wanted to talk to me about in the first place?”

The Ivory Twins shared a sheepish glance before hastily collecting themselves as if nothing had happened. Adjusting his tunic and tightening his grip on his cane, Glip resumed what he was saying, “As I was saying, before we were rudely interrupted,” he yelped when Baltazar used one of his tiny, yet perfectly functional, wings to smack him on the back of his head. “As you know, next week we’ll be starting the children’s formal training on Wakfung.” He finally said, nursing the back of his head while flashing his brother a glare.

Amalia nodded. “That’s right. You reminded us about it right before dismissing class.” She tilted her head, confused. “But what does that have got to do with me?”

Glip grew sheepish at that, wincing slightly. “Well, as I already mentioned when you first started attending our lessons,” his wince intensified as he remembered the less than stellar way he had treated the Divine Doll back then, “since you’re not an Eliatrope, your magic doesn’t work like ours.”

“Uh-huh.” She mumbled, nodding along to his explanation.

“So, the thing is… Erm…” He trailed off. He peered down at his brother. “Lend me a claw?”

“What Glip is trying to say, my Lady, is that he simply cannot teach you the art of Wakfung, as your magic is not compatible with it.” Baltazar finished for him, looking the doll straight in the eye.

“Oh. I…I see.” Was all Amalia could say in response. Truth be told, she already suspected she wouldn’t be able to learn like the rest of the children, as Glip had made that very clear on her first day. But she supposed a small, naïve part of her had hoped the Wakfung master would change his mind upon seeing how diligent she was as a student.

Still, hearing them say she just wouldn’t be able to practise with them hurt more than she cared to admit.

“Then, what am I supposed to do starting next week?” She chose to ask instead of voicing her hurt feelings. Not like it would have been necessary—the pitiful glances her masters sent her way made it plenty clear she was doing a lousy job at masking her disappointment in the first place.

She must have looked like a kicked Bow Wow at the moment.

Glip’s voice was uncharacteristically soft and reassuring as he suggested, “You can do whatever you want, really. From working on your garden to watching the children and I train at the village.”

“You could always spend that time at the library with Baltazar.” The beige dragon offered kindly, and Amalia couldn’t help but smile. She knew him well enough by now to know he meant it. “We could always spend that time to help you catch up some more on your studies.”

The doll felt her cheeks grow hot at their next suggestion, innocent as it might have sounded. “Or you could always go look for Yugo and spend time together if he’s not too busy.”

“Oh! Uh… I-I don’t know. I mean, sure! I-if he’s not too busy…” Clearing her throat, she scrambled to change the topic. “I guess I’ll take some time to figure out what I’d like to do first and I'll let you know as soon as I’ve decided?”

Both masters nodded. “Of course.” Glip said, at the same time as Baltazar added, “You let us know whatever it is that you decide to do.”

“Right. Well, if there’s nothing else you would like to talk to me about…” she trailed off purposely, giving them a chance to speak up. When instead they just shook their heads and smiled at her, she returned their smile with one of her own—one she knew didn’t quite reach her eyes— and proceeded to make her way towards the door as she waved goodbye over her shoulder. “Okay, then! Thanks for today’s lesson! See you soon!”

As soon as she was out of the threshold, she closed the door behind herself, knowing the educators liked taking some time to clean up after each lesson before they too had to leave. She let out a sigh and leaned back against the door, feeling thoroughly drained all of a sudden.

“Sweet Sadida, what a day…”

“Amalia.”

Startled by the unexpected voice, she let out a loud, high-pitched squeak as she jumped away from the door. Immediately, the sight before her let her know the day was far from over.

“Nora?”

For a moment, as if under a spell, Amalia just blinked, taken aback. To say she was surprised to see the youngest Eliatrope would be an understatement. Not because she wasn’t used to seeing Nora around, quite the contrary, as she was one of the faces she saw the most; but because, for once, she was alone. Normally, whenever Amalia and Nora were in the same room, the latter was accompanying at least one of her siblings for one reason or another. It got to the point where the doll wondered if perhaps she just disliked being on her own.

She always waved that idea off, however, as, even though Nora was always around, Amalia simply didn’t know her enough to feel confident in her assessment of her. But one thing was for certain: Nora had never approached her like this before, all by herself and with her pink eyes denoting a graveness that felt foreign to the otherwise impish woman.

To be completely honest, Amalia couldn’t help but squirm under her penetrating gaze, subconsciously bringing her arms around her body for comfort, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the white fabric of her wristbands. She had the feeling whatever the reason was that Nora came seeking her out, it had to be important.

“Do you have a moment? I’d like to speak with you.” The Eliatrope girl said bluntly.

Just as the doll had opened her mouth to reply, the doors to Glip and Baltazar’s classroom creaked open, the two masters in question peeking through and glancing around in worry, no doubt because they had heard Amalia’s embarrassingly loud squeak from earlier. When Baltazar’s eyes set on the young doll, he offered her a kind smile. He was about to speak to her when he finally registered his little sister’s presence, his beady eyes going as wide as Amalia’s must have been just a few seconds ago.

It was Glip who spoke at last, though his voice betrayed his own surprise. “Nora! We weren’t expecting you. Is there anything we can do for you?”

“Perhaps you have come to return to Baltazar the book he lent you?” The beige dragon smiled weakly, a clear attempt to diffuse the mounting tension. But Nora just shook her head, her expression kind yet unreadable.

“Sorry, Baltazar. I still haven’t got around to finishing it. I promise I’ll be done with it soon, though.”

“It is quite alright. Take your time.”

Amalia had to suppress the urge to flinch when Nora’s magenta eyes settled on her yet again. “I actually wanted to talk to Amalia. I imagined she’d be done with her classes by now and came to see if she’d be up to some girl time.” She tilted her head to the side invitingly, her snowy bangs following her movements.

Immediately after, the doll could feel her teachers’ worried gaze on her, silently asking her if she was really okay with this. Wordlessly offering to give her an out. Her own dark brown eyes darting discreetly from Nora to them, she ultimately nodded along, plastering a small smile on her face.

She was still hugging herself when she said, “Sure, Nora. We can talk, if you’d like.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Amalia. Come, there’s much I’d like to tell you.” And with that, she turned around and beckoned for the doll to follow her. With a quiet yelp, the Divine Doll scrambled to catch up to the white-haired Eliatrope, coming to stand by her side as they made it through the palace corridors in silence.

As they kept walking, Amalia couldn’t keep her mind from wandering to Glip and Baltazar’s genuine concern for her. Touched, she couldn’t stop the warmth from spreading all over her being even if she wanted to. Not that long ago, the Wakfung master hadn’t exactly been enthused to have her as a student, but now he seemed to care for her about as much as any of the children.

But then, the rustling sound Nora’s magenta cloak made as she moved reminded her of the reason they had been worried for her in the first place. Not for the first time, she found herself just as concerned. Sneaking a furtive glance her companion’s way, she knew that, deep down, her unease had nothing to do with Nora, but with her brother.

The core of Efrim’s attitude remained a mystery, even after all this time. All Amalia knew for certain was that the periwinkle dragon didn’t like her. Not one bit. It wasn’t difficult to reach that conclusion; after all, how would one describe the constant glares he shot her way, the warning snarls and growls with bared teeth, and his brusque manner of addressing her?

What, his love language was supposed to be ‘barely restrained aggression’?

No, of course not. The mere thought was ridiculous. Amalia may have been young by virtue of how she was conceived, but she wasn’t a fool. She could tell when something was wrong with almost as much accuracy as she could tell the state of the plants around her. And even they advised her to be careful around Efrim.

What was more, for a while now she had had the feeling it wasn’t just the plants that grew worried over the tense relationship between her and the young dragon—and that was being generous. Yugo in particular always seemed to keep his eyes peeled whenever the two of them were in close proximity and he was there to see it. And today, Glip and Baltazar’s reactions were only further proof of what she already knew, with what transpired the other day at her garden only serving to cement her beliefs.

Efrim was out to get her. And she could only speculate the reason why.

Despite her usual nervousness whenever Nora’s twin was around, for once Amalia had been able to ignore the pit that usually formed in her stomach around him almost effortlessly. She had been far too excited about showing the Council of Six what she had been up to to really pay Efrim much mind.

How could she not have been ecstatic, right? Not only had she already prepared the soil for when the Council members told her what their people needed her to grow, but she had finally been able to craft her own Sadida Dolls! She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t been a little envious of Dathura when she made use of what little time they had together to show her baby sister all her dolls.

As with everything back then, her natural instincts kicked into gear at the sight of the blue and green ragdolls, the Sadida within her urging her to heed their call and honour her father the best way their people knew. By replicating his greatest feat.

Which was, ironically, her and her sisters’ own creation.

So when Yugo gave her the go-ahead to cut loose with her powers, she didn’t hesitate to bring that dream of hers to life, especially when she knew her dolls could contribute greatly to the development and defence of the Eliatropes. They would carry out any task asked of them without complaint, and their versatility and resilience turned them into the perfect tools to have at hand when under attack.

There was a reason why young Sadida learned to craft dolls almost as soon as they had their motor skills under control! What could be better than a vegetable doll?

However, what she wasn’t counting on was that the attack would come from within the kingdom and directed straight at her.

While Amalia was already expecting she would have to explain Sadida customs to the Council, she certainly hadn’t accounted for the sheer venom that would be dripping from Efrim’s every word as he questioned her on her decision to create weapons, of all things. As his predatory eyes bore into her and his every exhale tore into her skin with unspoken accusations, the underlying message was clear: he suspected her of intending to turn her dolls against them in the future.

The Divine Doll still felt a shiver running down her spine at the memory, her heart squeezing almost to the point of pain at the silent suspicion Efrim’s cobalt blue eyes screamed as they were trained in on her. When she first met the young dragon, Amalia had been mesmerised by those eyes, shining like sapphires, but now, the more she was forced to lock her gaze to his, the darker they seemed each time. Like obsidians.

And at that moment when Efrim had struck that pose, ready to pounce on her, the obsidians had melted into tar, sticky and inescapable as it trapped her, surrounding her very being and threatening to plunge her to the dark depths of the abyss, never to see the light of—.

She frantically shook her head, willing those thoughts to leave her mind lest she risked drowning in them again. Loath as she was to think about it, even after Efrim abruptly dashed out of the door, it had taken her longer than she cared to admit for her heartbeat to go back to normal. Thank Sadida for Yugo, who remained by her side through it all, offering her wordless but much needed comfort through his mere presence or even some fleeting, yet lingering touches.

Regardless of what Efrim made her feel, one thing was for certain: for reasons beyond her, the young dragon didn’t trust her, and she would not be able to feel truly welcomed until he did.

But that still didn’t explain why Nora would want to talk to her in private.

Unlike with Efrim, who practically radiated hostility, Amalia didn’t sense any real malice coming from the pink-eyed Eliatrope. On the contrary, whenever they interacted or, at least, both were present, Nora seemed to be rather approving of her.

(Yugo would go as far as to grumble about how she was, perhaps, a little too approving of her, but whatever he meant by that always flew right over the doll’s head).

Still, that didn’t change one undeniable fact: Nora and Efrim were twins, and if there was one thing she had learned about the Primordial Eliatropes and their dragons, that was that no bond was stronger than the one each set of twins shared with each other. So, regardless of her own feelings towards Amalia, chances were Nora would always put her brother first.

“I’m sorry about Efrim’s behaviour towards you, Amalia.”

…then again, what did Amalia know? She was just a Sadida Doll.

Upon registering her apology, the doll stopped dead in her tracks as she tried to process what the white-haired Eliatrope had just said. Turning her head to face her, Amalia found herself staring at the back of Nora’s dark pink hood, for she had stopped walking as well and was now standing with her back to the doll, facing the landscape spreading before them.

They had halted their movements just as they ventured into the outdoors bridge that connected the South and North wings of the palace. Soon they were enveloped by Oma’s natural beauty and the sound of the local wildlife around them.

As Amalia made up her mind whether she should join her companion or not, the latter continued, “I know my apology isn’t exactly worth much.” She let out a mirthless chuckle. “After all, it should be Efrim apologising to you but…” She trailed off, a moment of silent understanding where words weren’t needed to express what she was trying to convey passing between them. “You still deserve an apology. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Her head hanging slightly as she contemplated Nora’s words, Amalia tentatively slid over to where she was standing. Giving her a sidelong glance, she copied her movements and her hands came to grip at the marble railing of the bridge as the two of them oversaw the scenery.

“Thank you, Nora.” She told her quietly, almost afraid to break the silence. The light afternoon breeze rocked her bangs, causing her to tuck the rebellious strands away from her face. “You really didn’t have to.”

But Nora just shook her head. Amalia was only noticing it now, but she hadn’t pulled up her mask to cover her lower face. The doll didn’t know why, but that made her feel more at ease. Like Nora was allowing herself to be open and vulnerable for once even in her presence.

“It’s the least I could do. Efrim was way out of line the other way.” She sent the green-haired woman by her side an apologetic glance. “I can’t imagine how he might’ve made you feel.”

“Can't say being questioned like that was the nicest feeling…” Amalia admitted timidly, rubbing her upper arm up and down for comfort and pulling her wristbands down by accident. She tugged at the garments lightly to put them back in their place. “I just don't understand why your brother seems to be out to get me! What have I ever done?”

“It’s not because of anything you’ve done, Amalia. At least, not really.” The words were out of Nora’s mouth before she even had the time to think them over. Startled by her own admission—and embarrassed, not like she’d ever admit to that—, she clamped her mouth shut, doing everything in her power to avoid looking the Divine Doll in the eye.

She didn’t have much luck, unfortunately. Because after a few seconds ticked by, she eventually caved and chanced a furtive look the doll’s way, only to immediately avert her gaze when it turned out her bright, brown orbs were staring almost owlishly back at her.

After much consideration, the youngest Eliatrope heaved a heavy sigh, giving up. Still, she weighed what she could say next, careful not to break her twin’s trust, “Efrim has… trust issues with outsiders. Especially now that we're the outsiders. He’s just worried letting anyone else in will have dire consequences.”

Even though she was still reeling by the Council member’s admission, Amalia’s mind locked in on one fact and refused to let it go. “Wait, ‘anyone else’?” She repeated, her eyebrows shooting to the ceiling when Nora flinched. “Nora, have you guys ever had trouble with someone before?”

But Nora refused to speak, refused to even look her in the eye. Instead, she was stubbornly averting her pink gaze, giving Amalia nothing but a view of her hood and her snowy hair waving in the breeze. She silently thanked the Great Goddess her cloak managed to conceal her hands, because her grip on the railing was so tight, her already pale skin turned even whiter around her knuckles.

Seeing how the other girl closed herself off, Amalia considered letting her be by dropping the subject altogether. Whatever it was that had happened was clearly something she didn’t want to discuss, and the last thing she wanted was to put Nora through an unpleasant experience. Perhaps she could try asking Yugo about it?

But just as she was about to let the matter go, memories of Efrim’s barbed comments and venomous looks flashed through her mind, igniting a new burst of determination to surge through her veins. She was sent by the gods to help Eliatropes and Twelvians alike, but she would be unable to offer much assistance if she didn’t know what happened and instead kept running away from it every time she faced an obstacle. It was about time she let go of her fear of the dragon and got some actual answers, instead of throwaway comments that only served to have the doll question even more things.

Taking a deep breath to steady her mounting nerves, Amalia leaned closer to Nora, determined to ask the question that had been plaguing her mind since their visit to Bonta.

“Nora, why do the Twelvians consider your people outsiders?”

Her reply was quiet but blunt, “Because we’re not from this world.”

That… actually took Amalia aback. Though maybe it shouldn’t have, as she had been learning the origins of the Eliatrope race from her classes. Not to mention, it was plain to see Yugo and his people didn’t worship any of the twelve gods native to the World of Twelve, like her father, Cra, Ecaflip… Both their appearance and knack for opening portals was proof enough of that. Instead, their patron and source of their powers was the Great Goddess Eliatrope, the source of all wakfu in the universe, as well as one of the Krosmoz’s creators alongside the Great Dragon.

And yet, for some unfathomable reason, the possibility that the Eliatropes didn’t resemble any of the Twelvian gods and were considered outsiders precisely because they weren’t native to the World of Twelve had never crossed her mind.

Much to her chagrin, she felt her cheeks grow hot, embarrassed by her own ignorance.

Still, sensing how Nora was about to close herself off yet again, she pushed through. She needed to know the truth.

“Then how come you came all the way here to settle down?” When the Eliatrope refused to answer, Amalia placed a hand on her shoulder, hoping to convey how she could tell her anything, as well as the fact that she would not budge on the matter. “Please, Nora, I just want to understand.”

Understand…

Nora perked up at that, at odds with herself. On the one hand, she feared she had already said too much. The last thing she wanted was to breach Efrim’s trust by revealing anything too personal. That, and deep down she couldn’t help but try to heed her twin’s warning—it would be very unwise to provide Amalia with information she could exploit in the future if it turned out Efrim’s suspicions were right and she couldn’t be trusted.

And on the other hand, Amalia just wanted to understand. Wasn’t that why she reached out to her instead of her brother in the first place? Because Yugo had assured her that, out of the two, Amalia would be more willing to listen to her and to try to understand what Efrim was going through?

With that in mind, it would be very unfair of Nora to disrupt the doll’s day with all the heaviness she brought with her only to then deny her closure when it was no longer convenient for her.

She slammed her head against the railing, the sudden action causing the green-haired beauty to flinch, and groaned pitifully. What was she supposed to do?

For her part, Amalia was beginning to regret ever bringing the Eliatropes’ past up. The last thing she expected was that the youngest Council member would react… Well, like that. She suppressed the urge to sigh in disappointment. Perhaps it just wasn’t the time for her to know the truth. Tentatively, she reached her hand out to gently place it on Nora’s back when—.

“You’re right. You have a right to know what happened.” Nora said completely out of the blue, straightening herself up and turning towards the doll, her pink eyes piercing through her skin until they reached her very soul. She extended an arm to the side, her palm glowing turquoise, “Come with me.”

Following the direction the Eliatrope’s arm was pointed at, Amalia’s eyebrows shot up and her mouth hung open a little as a burst of the ever-familiar bright blue energy flickered to life. Before she knew it, Nora’s magic had summoned a portal in the middle of the bridge. The doll couldn’t help but tilt her head to the side at the sight of it, intrigued. Now that she thought about it, that had to be the first time she ever saw the youngest Eliatrope make use of her magic—or, at least, really pay attention to it—; that in itself was noteworthy, given she had been living under the same roof as her for weeks. However, it was nothing compared to her surprise as she realised Nora’s wakfu manifested very differently from Yugo’s.

Even though she’d much rather be caught dead than go through another one of the king’s portals, Amalia had seen enough of them from his daily training sessions to believe herself to be quite well acquainted with them. And Nora’s were nothing like his.

It didn’t get to the point where, while Yugo, who usually wore blue clothing, created blue portals, Nora, unmistakable with her use of magenta garments, emanated stasis-like pink energy instead. Of course not; that would be ridiculous. But even Amalia, whose way of channelling her wakfu was completely different from any other inhabitant of Oma Island, could sense whose portals were whose from both appearance and a feeling resonating from deep in her gut, almost like how Yugo’s wakfu vision worked.

Because while the Eliatrope King’s magic manifested in perfectly circular portals, Nora’s had four sides that converged in sharp edges. It took the Sadida Doll longer than she cared to admit—and a little bit of blinking, stupefied—to realise that her portal was actually a square, though its vertical position made it look more like a diamond.

“Erm… What’s this”? She asked meekly, her finger pointing weakly at the portal in front of her as she finally tore her gaze from it to stare questioningly at Nora.

Oh, dear Doll Master above, please don’t let her greatest fears come true…

The Eliatrope just looked at her like she had grown a second head, her brow furrowed, especially when the doll kept watching the portal with as much cold disdain as if it had personally offended her. “That’s one of my portals…” She couldn’t help but state the obvious, gesturing between it and Amalia and not understanding the reason behind her apparent apprehension. “You already know that’s what we, Eliatropes, use as means of transportation… right?” She raised an eyebrow.

Amalia just waved her off, although her posture remained stiff and the smile curling at her lips was strained. “Yeah, yeah, of course. Yugo’s always opening portals around me, and Glip and Baltazar help the children with their own powers practically every day!”

“Then what seems to be the problem?” Nora ventured.

The doll got straight to the point. “Do you want me to go through it?”

There was a beat of silence where all Nora could do was blink, flabbergasted.

“Yes, that is the reason why I summoned a portal in the first place. To take us somewhere else quicker than we would arrive on foot.” The Eliatrope explained, although a part of her kept questioning why she even had to explain something so obvious in the first place. Especially to Amalia, who had been living there with them for weeks! Surely she would know what her people used portals for by now, right?

“Oh, I see.” Amalia said, trying to sound casual and unaffected, but she remained as tense as before. “Um, isn’t there… I don’t know, another way we can go wherever you want to take me to instead?” She asked, her voice suspiciously high-pitched. “I’ll gladly let you kidnap me, if that’s what you want!” She joked, and the white-haired girl in front of her thought to herself that the doll was clearly unaware of her attractiveness for her to say something like that so nonchalantly.

She distinctly remembered herself saying she would gladly take Amalia if Yugo didn’t want her.

Unaware of the thoughts running through Nora’s mind, the green-haired girl just went on, desperate to avoid going through another portal for as long as she lived. “But, I mean, can’t we just walk there…?”

Nora blinked once, twice, thrice as she struggled to come to grips with what the doll had just told her. She tried to find sense to her request, only to come up empty-handed. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yes, it’s just, you see…” The wild beauty stammered, growing increasingly uncomfortable under the other girl’s scrutinising pink gaze. Although that was nothing compared to the building pressure that was having that thing practically right next to her. “The thing is, I don’t go through portals.” A beat. “Ever.”

“What?!” Nora couldn’t believe her ears, her eyes going as wide as the very portal she had created. “Hasn’t Yugo ever invited you to pass through one of his portals before? I could’ve sworn he did…” She muttered that last part to herself.

“Oh, he has.” She couldn’t help but flinch when Amalia’s voice took on a darker quality, a shadow passing over her features. “That’s why I categorically refuse to go through another!” She exclaimed, crossing her arms over her torso and sticking her nose up in the air almost petulantly with a huff. “No offence, Nora, but those things always do a number on my stomach, and I’m not looking forward to getting reacquainted with my lunch this afternoon. Thank you very much.”

Nora just stood there, her shoulders shagged and her posture hunched over from disbelief, gaping like a fish at the Divine Doll. She couldn't believe it… Straightening herself and bringing a hand to massage her temple as she gathered her thoughts, she had to ask, a hint of exasperation in her voice, “Wait, that’s it? You don’t like going through portals because you get dizzy?”

A stubborn nod was all the answer she got.

She exhaled deeply through her nose, mustering up every ounce of patience she possessed. “Amalia, I’m sure whatever happened last time to make you sick was just a fluke.” She tried to reason, to no avail.

“Oh, trust me,” the doll laughed sarcastically, “it was not a fluke.”

How many times would she have to have this conversation before it finally sank in? Her vomiting after going through a portal was as much of an elemental law as water boiling at 100º!

Seeing as the Sadida Doll would not budge in her decision, with a sigh, Nora tried a different approach—appealing to her common sense.

“Amalia, I understand you might not like going through portals, after all, it’s not the kind of magic you’re used to. The Great Goddess knows nothing takes us quite as aback as when you make use of your powers.” She giggled, thinking back to all the times they’d been startled by vines growing in places where they shouldn’t. Then, she grew a little more serious. “But if you want to understand the reason our people are outsiders, moreover, to learn the reason we came to this world in the first place, then I really need you to come with me. And I’m afraid the fastest way is through one of my portals.”

She extended her pink-clad hand towards the doll, who peered down at it suspiciously, and smiled at her before the two locked eyes, brown meeting pink.

“What do you say? Do you trust me?”

Eyes darting back and forth between her extended hand and back at Nora, Amalia couldn’t help but comment drily to herself how the Council of Six seemed to always be asking for her trust when they didn’t seem all that willing to extend the same courtesy to her. But, ultimately, her desire to know far outweighed her reservations. After all, if Nora was willing to share her people’s past with her, that must have meant she trusted her, right?

With a soft exhale, Amalia finally gave up, her arms falling to her sides in defeat before flashing Nora a small smile and reaching out to grasp her hand in hers.

Before they could so much as move a step closer towards the portal, she jabbed a finger in her face, though. “I’m warning you, whatever happens when we go through the other end won’t be pretty.”

Nora couldn’t help but agree with her in private, though not for the same reasons Amalia was referring to. She really had no idea of what awaited her on the other side. Still, it seemed the two of them had made up their minds and neither would back down.

“I’ll take my chances.”

And with that, she pulled Amalia closer towards her and motioned for her to jump into the portal, disappearing from sight as it closed behind them. And yet, weirdly enough, all Amalia could think of as she went through the portal, the familiar currents of wakfu turning her stomach upside down, was that it felt nothing like Yugo’s. She found herself missing the strange sense of comfort he seemed to imbue to his own magic as it traversed her body…

.......................................................................................................................

As Amalia had predicted, watching her heave loudly as she stood on all fours on the floor wasn’t a pretty sight. Nora couldn’t help but grimace as another loud gasp escaped the doll’s throat, feeling guilty for not taking her warning more seriously.

Not sure what to do with herself, she mostly stood there, watching as the doll’s heaving seemed to gradually subside. With a wince, she tried reaching out a hand towards her, even though the distance between them meant she wouldn’t actually make contact with her skin. “Are… are you okay?” She asked sheepishly.

“Well, at least now I only dry-heave.” Amalia said drily, trying to imbue her voice with an optimism she most definitely didn’t feel and her efforts falling flat. “Not that long ago, I would have thrown up all over the place…”

Oh, those poor bushes… They had seen so much horror.

“Hey, look on the bright side.” Nora offered, her tone light yet cautious. “Before you know it, you’ll be able to go through portals no problem!”

Amalia’s answer was concise and to the point.

“Over my dead body.”

Neither needed to point out the fact that Divine Dolls were virtually immortal for the message to be crystal clear.

“Okay…” Nora said, tapping her hands against her thighs awkwardly while Amalia got over the remainder of her affliction. When she finally found the strength to stand on two legs, though her stance was a little wobbly at first, the Eliatrope ventured, “Are you feeling better?”

Amalia wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and looked at it disdainfully before answering, “Not yet, but I’ll be.”

Now that she was back on her feet, she spun over herself, eyes darting in every direction as she took in the scenery around her. They seemed to be in some sort of cavernous system, the only source of light coming from the numerous bulbshrooms spread all over the walls. Large stalactites and stalagmites served as columns, and blocks of white sandstone had engravings on them that forced the doll to squint her eyes at them to get a better look at what they portrayed, to no avail.

One thing was for certain, she had no idea where they were supposed to be.

“So, what was it that you wanted to show me?”

“This.” Nora said simply in return, and instead of elaborating on the matter, she just turned around, her pink gaze staring intently at what she had in front of her.

One sceptical eyebrow raised at her reaction, Amalia followed suit, turning her head to the direction the young Eliatrope was transfixed by… And promptly gaped at the sight, a gasp leaving her throat and her brown eyes going wide as she scanned every single detail displayed before her.

Covering every single inch of the sandstone wall standing right in front of them was the biggest mural Amalia had ever seen in her admittedly short life. It burst with colour over its white canvas, splotches of blue, pink, black, red, white and so much more interweaving into each other through intricate strokes until it converged into one huge, unified picture. And while the technical aspects of the mural were nothing to scoff at and were definitely deserving of a good amount of the awe currently rendering her speechless, that wasn’t what Amalia’s mind had fixated on.

The reason her eyes were glued to the mural before her was the scene it represented.

Sprawled all over the white stone, the splotches of colour took the unmistakable forms of the Council of Six; seeing the Primordial Eliatropes and their dragons painted so distinctively, she could only assume the remaining purple, yellow, and even blue patches were meant to represent the rest of their race. Despite the mural’s minimalist style, it was easy to perceive the dynamism behind the scene, clearly trying to portray movement and convey constant action.

Indeed, nothing in the painting suggested a domestic scene taken from the day-to-day chores of the Eliatropes and their leaders. On the contrary, the image before her was something that caused a primal feeling in Amalia, a kind of fear born from the deepest, most inexplicable form of empathy, to resurface. Beyond all else, she hoped that kind of thing would never become a daily occurrence.

Staring right back at her was a battle.

Even with the Council’s simplistic design, the Sadida Doll had no trouble making out scenes such as Glip and Baltazar shielding small children from danger—which she was able to deduce thanks to the fact that the spots she believed represented the children were significantly smaller. In another, Qilby and Shinonomé appeared to be treating the injured, a pit forming in the doll’s stomach when she realised the heavy use of red in that corner wasn’t just because of the dragoness’ ruby-like scales; many had got hurt and needed treatment. The black splotches she associated with Chibi and Grougal were isolated from the rest, hunched over a table as they seemed to be working tirelessly in order to find a solution to their problem. The turquoise figures that represented Mina and Phaeris knelt on the floor in front of what she could only assume was a statue of the Goddess Eliatrope, praying for a miracle or begging for mercy, maybe both. Unlike their siblings, who remained by their twins’ side, Nora and Efrim stood at opposite sides of the mural, seemingly running themselves ragged as they struggled to help their people to the best of their abilities.

But the scene that truly made Amalia’s heart sink was the one displayed at the very centre of the mural. She was so lost in her thoughts, her mind didn’t register when she brought her hands over her chest or she took a step closer. Right then all she cared about, despite her better judgement, was getting a better look; so with a swift flick of her wrist, she summoned a verdant tendril to lift her up until she was face-to-face with the image currently depriving her of breath.

She gingerly placed a hand on the stone, her fingers delicately tracing Yugo’s figure as he rode on Adamaï, a wakfu sword in one hand and a shield in the other, and the two charged headfirst against their opponent—a monstrous mechanical contraption painted in black as dark as coal and lines redder than blood.

A shuddering breath escaped her at the sight, causing her to snatch her hand away and tuck it closely to her chest as she wordlessly ordered her vine to put her back on the floor.

“Nora,” her voice was barely above a whisper, and she was genuinely surprised she was actually able to utter a single word. “What is this?”

Her answer came immediately afterwards, resigned acceptance mixed with something unreadable tinged the Eliatrope’s voice, almost as she had already been expecting that reaction from the doll and had been bracing herself to answer.

“This is the reason why we came to the World of Twelve, Amalia.” She said calmly as she walked over to the startled doll, her own gaze fixed on the mural. Had Amalia been looking in her direction, she would have noticed the unmistakable glimmer of sadness and pain glinting in her pink irises. “This is why we’re considered outsiders by this world’s inhabitants. Because we lost our own world.”

“Do the... Do the Twelvians know about it?”

A scoff.

“Even if they did, I highly doubt it would change anything.”

Amalia was almost too afraid to ask. “What… what happened?”

Though she heaved a mirthless chuckle, Nora’s tone was solemn.

“To this day, we still don’t know.”

The doll’s previous suspicions were only proven right the more Nora spoke, and the more Nora spoke, the more her heart broke for the Eliatropes.

According to Nora, their people had lived in perfect peace and harmony for millennia thanks both to their mother, the Great Goddess Eliatrope, for giving her children a safe place they could call home, and the Council of Six, who dedicated their lives, throughout countless lifetimes, to ensuring their subjects never wanted for anything. As they had never known true misery and corruption, the Eliatropes weren’t like the Twelvians, whose distrusting and prejudiced nature was apparent, but they desired to reach out to other races and expand their little world a bit nonetheless.

Naturally, the Mechasms’ arrival felt like a blessing, and for many years, it was. The otherworldly species that seemed to operate on rules of their own soon formed a quasi-symbiotic relationship with the Eliatropes. Before they knew it, their homeworld was as much of the Mechasms’ as it was theirs. Nothing could break their bond.

Or so they thought.

Amalia was so engrossed in Nora’s story she failed to even realise the loud gasp she heard echoing around the palace’s walls—as Nora had explained to her they were actually in the palace’s underground levels, which were still under construction and heavy revision from Chibi and Grougal—was actually her own. But Nora paid her no mind, her eyes distant as she revisited the past, seemingly staring right through the doll and into a reality that was only kept alive in her mind.

One day, without warning, the Mechasms, led by their young prince Orgonax, stabbed them in the back and declared war on the Eliatropes. At first, they were naïve enough to believe all could be easily resolved if Mina and Phaeris just led a diplomatic meeting to get to the bottom of the matter and assuage their beloved neighbours. But for the first time in history, the Ochre Dofus twins failed to diffuse the situation, their pleas falling on deaf ears; the Eliatropes and Mechasms would go to war with each other.

The Council of Six immediately took charge, mobilising soldiers and civilians alike in hopes of assuring either victory, or, at the very least, their well-being. The battles spammed over the course of weeks, depleting them of their resources at an alarming rate; and their once lush and prosperous world soon descended into mayhem and madness, blood seeping deep into the very ground.

Yugo and Adamaï, as their people’s greatest warriors, fought valiantly and with everything they had, but after a while it became apparent they were only postponing the inevitable. If they didn’t find a solution, and soon, the entirety of the Eliatrope race would fall.

In light of those odds, everything seemed bleak, and their subjects’ morale took a heavy blow; it truly seemed that it would be the end. And yet, right as they were about to succumb to the darkness around them and within, Qilby and Shinonomé offered what seemed to be their only possible saving grace.

They were to leave their world and travel the Krosmoz in search of another place to call home.

“And that’s what we did.” Nora continued. Amalia couldn’t help but flinch in surprise when she turned to look her in the eye; truth be told, she came to believe the other girl had forgotten all about her, lost in her memories. “We hopped on the Zenit and travelled the Krosmoz, in search of our new home. After decades where we came up empty-handed, we were about to throw in the towel—.”

“When you found the World of Twelve.” Amalia finished for her, having heard enough to connect the dots on her own. “So that’s why you need help with earning the Twelvians’ trust, because, much like the Mechasms, to them you’re outsiders who might wish them harm?”

“I won’t deny it hurts to be on the receiving end,” Nora admitted. “But given what we went through, I’d be lying if I said I don’t understand where they’re coming from either.” She glanced back at the mural. “Maybe if we’d been half as wary of the Mechasms as the Twelvians are of us, the war wouldn't have happened and we wouldn’t be here in the first place.”

Even though Amalia understood—now more than ever—Nora was speaking from a place of pain, she still couldn’t help the painful thud that resonated in her ribcage at her words. If the Eliatropes had never arrived at the World of Twelve, then she would have never met them. She would have never met Yugo…

Wait, if the Eliatropes had never settled on their world, then the gods would have had no reason to give them their blessing and try to ensure they maintained a positive relationship with their followers. Without the Eliatropes, she would have never existed…

The realisation hit her like a lightning strike, causing her pulse to spike up while, paradoxical as it was, the flow of the blood in her veins slowed down dramatically. In that state where she toed the line between anxious and numb, Amalia’s jumbled thoughts drowned out Nora’s voice, whatever she was saying then amounting to nothing but white noise.

The doll buried her hands in her emerald locks, her brown eyes frantic as a million thoughts ran through her mind. She had never given it much thought until now, but suddenly, the very idea of not having been born at all terrified her to her core.

Could it be that she served no purpose without—?

“My, my, my. What do we have here?” A chillingly cold voice rumbled. “Is it not enough that you have seduced our king, that now you must dig into our past as well?”

The sound of that voice broke Amalia out of her stupor, while the sheer venom dripping from it froze her to her core. She didn’t even need to turn around to know whom it belonged to.

“Efrim!” Nora gasped, as taken aback as the petrified doll.

Slowly, no doubt afraid of what she might encounter, Amalia turned around, flinching when she locked eyes with the dragon, a cold fury making those pools of dark blue come alive as they narrowed in on her. The sapphires turned into ice shards.

Nora soon came to her rescue, coming to stand between the two with her palms raised up in a placating manner. “It’s not what it looks like, Efrim. Amalia didn’t go digging for anything, I took her here on my own volition; she didn’t even know what I’d be showing her!”

“You needn’t come to her defence, Sister.” Efrim told her gravelly. Even though he was talking to his twin, his eyes looked past her and straight at the doll. “There is no doubt in my mind she manipulated you into telling her exactly what she wanted to hear.”

“That’s not true!” Amalia found herself exclaiming. Once she was past the initial surprise she felt for having stood up to the dragon, she steeled her resolve and pushed through. “Efrim, I understand what happened with the Mechasms probably left a deep scar but—.”

“You know nothing!” Efrim bellowed, his voice booming around the caverns of the palace. Aggravation, fury, and hatred took hold of his body; his shackles raised, his tail thumped against the floor almost rhythmically, and his crystalline wings unfolded over his form.

Amalia barely had time to marvel at their beauty as they glinted under the bulbshroom light when he snarled, his fangs bared. “You do not know what it is like to be betrayed by someone you trusted with your life! You do not know what it is like to see your loved ones get hurt and feel powerless to stop their suffering! You do not know what it is like to lose everything you have ever known and loved!”

With every word he spouted, he slithered closer and closer to the doll, who, much to her chagrin, couldn’t do much besides stick closer to Nora, who still stood between the two, acting like a wall as she tried to protect Amalia. Deep down, she knew she could use her powers to protect herself, but the fact that it would only confirm Efrim’s suspicions if she attacked him, even if it was in self-defence, kept her from simply ensnaring him with one of her vines.

And even if she didn’t care about proving Efrim right, she found she couldn’t move at all. A deep, primal fear taking hold of her whole body as the dragon advanced menacingly.

Nora’s startled gasp was all the warning she got. Before she knew it, Efrim had lunged himself towards her, his claws outstretched. She could only watch as Nora opened a portal right in the middle of her twin’s trajectory, only for the dragon to manoeuvre around it at the last possible second and collide right into the Divine Doll, sending both of them tumbling to the ground. Her heart clamouring in her ears, she tried to squirm out of Efrim’s grasp, but it was all for naught; he had her pinned against the floor with his tail, while he immobilised her hands by grabbing her by her wrists and over her head.

Her brown gaze widened in terror at the close proximity of his fangs, glinting dangerously as he smirked down at her. “Some demigoddess you are.” He sneered disdainfully. “For all your flashy moves and fancy dolls, you can’t even use your powers to protect yourself. Yugo won’t always be there to protect you, you know?”

“Efrim, stop!” Nora pleaded, horrified by the lengths her twin was willing to go. But he just ignored her.

“And to think you have the gall to say you understand.” He scoffed, his dark blue eyes narrowing as he leaned closer to her to whisper in her ear. “You’ll never understand what it's like to suffer, Little Doll. And I’ll make sure you don’t get to hurt anybody else!”

Amalia gasped, letting out a strangled sound as tears ran down her cheeks when Efrim loosened her grip on her to raise one claw high in the air, ready to strike her down. Paralysed by more than just Efrim’s grip on her, she could only brace herself for the worst. She closed her eyes shut, praying to Sadida that it would at least be over soon, begging him not to punish Yugo and his people for the mistakes of one single Council member.

When after what felt like an eternity nothing happened, she tentatively opened one eye, the scene unfolding right in front of her tearing another gasp from her throat.

Efrim had indeed brought his claw down, but instead of tearing right through her as she feared, it was stuck in the ground, in the space right beside her head. Even when all she could hear was her frantic heartbeat in her ears, she could still distinctly feel the way her heart sputtered and constricted in her ribcage, fear and relief clashing against each other in a frenetic dance.

Her breath hitched when Efrim carefully lifted his arm back up and he leaned closer to her once more, his voice, raspy and unforgiving, barely above a whisper. “The only reason I don’t finish this right here and now is because, as of now, your demise would do more harm than good to my people. And only because of that. Don’t you ever forget it.”

Just as the dragon leaned back to look down at the terrified doll scornfully, a blue wakfu tendril shot forward and gripped his wrist tightly, holding Efrim’s claw back, while another wrapped itself around his torso and pulled him away from the Sadida Doll, eliciting a surprised yelp from the dragon. As Amalia scrambled to straighten herself and crawled as further away from him as possible, she took notice of Nora using her magic to hold her brother back.

“Efrim, that’s enough!” She screeched, grunting as she used every ounce of her strength to pull her twin back and away from Amalia.

Her eyes widened when, rather than resist, Efrim just replied calmly, “Fear not, Sister. As long as she is of use to our people, no harm will befall the doll.” He flashed Amalia a side-glance that froze her to the core, the unspoken threat hanging heavily between them. “You have my word.”

Having said his piece, the young dragon wasted no time in wriggling out of his sister’s constraints, breaking the wakfu binds with as much ease as if they had been made out of mere paper. Before either of them could so much as call out to him and tell him to wait, Efrim had already spread out his crystalline wings and taken flight, a cloud of dust picking up after him. And just like that, he was gone, his silhouette shrinking more and more with each flap of his wings.

Nora remained unresponsive for a spell, her pink eyes fixed on her twin’s retreating form, before everything that happened finally caught up to her and she hurried to help Amalia up, frantically looking her all over to make sure she was alright. But even as Nora apologised profusely on her twin’s behalf and assured her she would take care of it, and begged her to, please, don’t say anything to Yugo because things had been tense between Efrim and their older brother and she didn’t want to make things worse, Amalia was only half-listening. In fact, not unlike Nora a few seconds ago, she, too, had yet to tear her brown gaze away from the direction the young dragon had left.

Her heart still echoing in her ears as she stared at the space Efrim occupied just a mere minutes before, her mind was elsewhere. Her run-in with him and his harsh words and even harsher truths replaying in her mind over and over.

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geekgirles · 5 months

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The Doll and the Dragon

Chapter 5: Brown Eyes, Blue Eyes, Green Eyes

Word Count: 29,752

Read on AO3

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Chapter Summary: "Tensions rise when an emissary from Bonta invites the Eliatrope King, his siblings, and especially the Divine Doll living with them to an official event in Bonta, and the fact that Yugo and Amalia's relationship hasn't been quite the same since they came back from their little adventure certainly doesn't help. But things only get more complicated when the appearance of a new rival makes Yugo's blood run cold."

He was mesmerised the moment she stepped into the room. It was as if she alone reflected all the light shining down on them, drawing it to her body and leaving everything else in total darkness.

She was indeed a beacon of light and hope amidst the miserable hole that had become of his existence in the last few centuries. And all because he’d learned too late you couldn’t rely on anyone but yourself.

Oh, but when his eyes first landed on her, he knew he had finally found the one person who truly deserved to be by his side. Just one wayward look from her brown eyes had been enough to melt his frozen heart, breathing new life into an old carcass whose only single-minded focus had been his people’s protection and well-being. How much they would be able to benefit, having her ruling by his side. Just one look at her was all he needed to know she was the key to solving every single misfortune ailing his people.

She was simply exquisite. His fingers itched to reach out to her and be able to run his hands up and down her body, marvelling at the unparalleled softness of her mahogany skin; kneading her supple flesh until every inch of her skin was covered with his fingertips. He couldn’t help but bite his own lip at the sight of hers, pouty and plump, beckoning him to bite down on them and taste her. How did he burn to weave his fingers through her forest-green locks, the idea of inhaling her soft fragrance almost enough to bring him over the edge.

She was simply divine. A true gift from the gods. Her tantalising, childbearing hips swayed back and forth in a most alluring dance, drawing all eyes to her scrumptious figure even as it was hidden from view with those rags he made her wear.

His gaze turned dark as he left his beloved’s sight to settle on him. So aloof, so distant, so indifferent. So unworthy of her. He didn’t know the true extent of the challenges one must face for his people. He couldn’t treat such a vision of loveliness like she deserved to be treated. He didn’t deserve her.

And there was nothing he wouldn’t do to make her his.

.....................................................................................................................

Yugo had had no way of knowing the chain of events that day would unravel. In fact, not even Chibi would have been able to predict the turn things were about to take that day.

The Eliatrope King and his siblings were gathered at the council room, having their first non-Amalia-related meeting practically since she arrived, when he was overtaken by a strong sense of déjà vu. Right as Shinonomé was in the midst of giving her and Qilby’s report on their latest findings on a medicinal herb they’d been growing, the doors burst open, a very disgruntled-looking member of their elite guard panting as he struggled to catch his breath.

His eyes were wide with shock.

Before Phaeris could even finish demanding an explanation for why he would interrupt a Council meeting, the guard managed to blurt out an answer that chilled them to their very core:

“An… an emissary from…from Bonta is here… He… He wishes to…to see you, Your Majesty.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Yugo had already teleported out of the room, his pace brisk and alert at this unexpected development. The pit in his stomach only grew worse when the guard informed him of the emissary’s extraordinary abilities—he only demanded an audience with their king after beating most of the elite guards single-handedly.

In the midst of such worrisome news, Yugo couldn’t help but be impressed. If he really was that good, then how come he hadn’t been sent alongside the rest of this world’s heroes to face him last time? The thrill-seeking part of him couldn’t help but muse about how that might have actually made things more interesting back then.

When he finally made it in front of the gates guarding the throne room, the Eliatrope made the split-second decision of not entering through them. That was what their ‘guest’ would have been expecting, after all, and he wasn’t in the mood to entertain any intruders. So, with a snap of his fingers, a portal materialised right underneath his feet and transported him right above his throne, allowing him to land on top of his seat with practised ease.

Much like what happened the last time they had company, Yugo certainly hadn’t been expecting what stood right in the middle of the room.

Bonta’s emissary was a remarkably small man, even shorter than Glip. He wore a patched-up grey romper and slippers, with a leather belt adorned by a rather large metal buckle. Beige fingerless gloves covered his hands, and a short-sleeved dark blue coat with a fur collar was draped over his form. He seemed to carry some sort of wooden backpack on his back.

But the strangest thing of all was his skin. It was dark, remarkably dark. But it wasn’t like Amalia’s mahogany skin. No. Bonta’s ambassador was black as coal from head-to-toe, the only exception was his pointy, grey nose. Even his eyes were black! Truth be told, it took Yugo a minute to realise that, no, his coat’s hood—which was adorned by two woolly antennae—didn’t obscure his face; his face was pitch black, too!

Not for the first time since their arrival, the Eliatrope King quietly wondered to himself just where on the Krozmos his people ended up. The World of Twelve could not be considered normal. First, living dolls sent by the gods, and now this.

Unbelievable. Simply unbelievable.

As Yugo and Bonta’s emissary entered a staring contest, both of them willing the other to break the silence first, several flashes of light followed by the sound of someone landing on the floor was all Yugo needed to know his siblings had arrived. The king didn’t even have to break eye contact with their uninvited guest to know Adamaï was hovering beside him.

Finally, Yugo had had enough.

“I sure hope you have a good explanation for your intrusion, Mister…?”

“I’m known amongst the Twelvians as Master Joris, Your Majesty.” The emissary, Joris, responded immediately, lowering his body as a sign of respect. “And with all due respect, I believe you should find my explanation more than satisfactory.”

“That I have a hard time imagining.” Yugo commented with a raised eyebrow, before his expression turned dark. “After all, you seem to have attacked some of my guards and trespassed on our property.”

Joris’ voice remained eerily calm even as he explained himself, “I apologise if any harm has befallen your people, King Yugo, but I was tasked with a mission and fulfilling it is my highest priority.”

“Oh.” It was Adamaï who spoke, sarcasm dripping from his voice as he regarded the ambassador cautiously. “And pray tell, Master Joris, whatever could it be?”

He remained as stone-faced as ever. When he slung his log-backpack out of his shoulders, the Council tensed up immediately, each and every one of them taking on defensive and offensive positions in case the little man tried anything. However, the aggression in their eyes was replaced by pure shock when Master Joris simply placed his backpack on the floor next to him as he lowered himself on one knee as a sign of respect.

And even that was nothing compared to their astonishment at his next words:

“Queen Astra of Bonta has sent me here to inquire about the Sadida woman living on the island with you.”

At that revelation, Yugo almost choked on his own spit. All around him, his siblings shared worried, perplexed glances at the accusation, even if they tried to hide their surprise around their ‘guest’. A Sadida woman? What? They hadn’t had any contact with the outside world since the Twelvians sent their warriors after him! Where in the Great Goddess’ name did they get that idea from—?

And then the truth dawned on him.

Amalia.

While it was true Amalia looked indiscernible from a human, she most certainly was not. Her presenting herself in her doll form the very first time they met more than confirmed that. But that still didn’t explain why Bonta’s queen was so certain they harboured a Sadida woman with them. More importantly, it didn’t explain how they’d come to be privy to that piece of information.

If he wanted answers, he would have to be very careful with his wording.

“I’m afraid I’m obligated to inform you that no Sadida woman lives here, Master Joris.” Technically, that wasn’t a lie.

Master Joris narrowed his eyes almost imperceptibly. He understood what was going on here. You didn’t become one of the queen of Bonta’s most trusted envoys without learning a thing or two about high politics, after all. If he wanted answers, he would have to provide some of his own until he managed to gather enough intel.

“With all due respect, my King,” He started, his head bowed in order to appear non-threatening. Although he had to admit it might be too late for that after his treatment of their guards. “We were informed of her presence by some Cra soldiers that were flying over the area. I do not know how deep your knowledge is on the races populating our world, Your Majesty, but a Cra’s sight is second to none, and their sense of honour is unparalleled.” Joris finally raised his head to look deep into the Eliatrope’s eye, his words laced with the utmost seriousness and sincerity. “They would never lie about something like this.”

Yugo’s eyes widened like saucers at his words as they finally provided him with the missing piece to complete the puzzle, and he could sense his siblings had the same reaction. The Cra sentinels from a few weeks ago! But when could they have seen—? But of course! Phaeris informed him of their ‘visit’ the very same day he and Adamaï took Amalia out of the palace. They must have caught sight of her then!

As he gathered his thoughts, Efrim snarled at the emissary, and for once his king was grateful for his distrusting nature, “And what exactly were those Cra doing around our territory in the first place? Does their strong sense of honour not apply to spying on others?”

However, Joris remained unperturbed, meeting the dragon’s accusatory glare with a stony glance of his own. “Rest assured, this has nothing to do with your people being spied on.” He wisely chose not to comment on how, technically speaking, Oma Island wasn’t their territory; they just claimed it for themselves and no one had been willing to take it back yet. “Cra are often sent on reconnaissance all around the World of Twelve. Their stumbling across your people was not their intention.”

Their suspicion hung heavily in the air. While Nora kept her brother from acting rashly, the rest of the Council members all tried to convey the same thing to Yugo through their eyes: “We cannot risk causing further trouble with the Twelvians, find out what he wants and send him away.”

Which was much easier said than done after what Master Joris said next, “It was during one of those missions when, trying to use their eyesight to better locate themselves, they saw a young Sadida woman by your side, Your Majesty.”

His hands clutching at the armrest of his throne for support, Yugo forced himself to remain as composed as possible, knowing how showing too much emotion could have terrible consequences.

“I understand, Master Joris. However, I maintain we do not have a Sadida woman with us. Those Cra soldiers were mistaken.”

Once again, Master Joris’ whole demeanour remained unchanged. He had seen far too much in his long life to let himself be swayed so easily. “Your Majesty, I beg you to listen to what I have to say: a Cra’s eyes are never mistaken. The other kingdoms are already aware of the situation and on high alert, especially the Sadida Kingdom. They fear you might have taken one of their own.”

Or a betrayal, it’s what went unsaid, but everyone heard it loud and clear nonetheless.

“If you do not return her to her people or, at the very least, explain why she is here with you, this could result in war.” Joris sentenced, his eyes severe as he implored the Eliatropes to see reason. And yet, despite himself, the dark-skinned Bontarian couldn’t help the feeling of apprehension taking hold of his heart and squeezing it tight.

Given the outcome of sending their greatest warriors to battle King Yugo, he sincerely feared the Twelvians would fail despite the overwhelming odds in their favour.

The chance of living in peace with the Twelvians slipping from his fingers right under his nose, Yugo was left with no choice but to make a rash decision. His siblings, especially Adamaï, could chew him out for it later.

Praying to the Great Goddess that this wouldn’t come back to bite him, he finally said, “We don’t have a Sadida woman living with us.”

Joris barely suppressed the urge to sigh and shake his head ruefully. So that was it, huh? They’d rather face war than come clean. Queen Astra would not like this, and Prince Armand would most likely throw a fit at their insolence, and while King Oakheart would try to remain level-headed and composed, even he would not be able to let this offence go. They were going to war.

“Thank you for your time, Your Majesty.” Master Joris bowed his head one last time before raising to his feet. However, just as he was about to grab hold of his backpack and be on his way, his fingers froze at the king’s next words just as he was about to reach for the handle:

“She is a Divine Doll sent by the gods themselves as a sign of good will. We have not caused the Sadida nation any harm.”

For the first time in as long as he could remember, Joris allowed himself to lose his composure. Whirling back around to face the Eliatrope monarch—and noting the discreet, astounded looks the blue-and-white dragon by his side sent him—, he couldn’t keep the disbelief out of his voice.

“What did you just say, Your Majesty?”

For once, it was Yugo who remained unperturbed. “The young woman the Cra saw isn’t a Sadida.” He paused, weighing his next words carefully. “Well, not exactly. She is a Divine Doll that was sent to us by the gods about two months ago. She’s been living with us ever since.”

Joris could not believe his own ears. A Divine Doll, sent to the World of Twelve? After all this time? He had to be sure the Eliatrope King knew what he was talking about. He simply could not know the significance those dolls held to their world.

“A Divine Doll, you say? And pray tell, which one of Sadida’s ten dolls lives on Oma alongside you, my King?”

Yugo braced himself for what was sure to come next. “His eleventh doll, Amalia.”

Bonta’s emissary almost had to do a double take. Then, he blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. He implored the gods to give him some kind of sign he had heard him wrong. He had to have heard him wrong. There was simply no way he actually said there was an eleventh doll. Had Prince Armand been there, he would have already attacked the Eliatrope with a giant carnivorous plant for daring to disgrace his culture so brazenly.

“Your Majesty, I’m afraid that is impossible. Sadida only made ten dolls back in the Primitive Era.” He forced his voice to remain as even as possible, choosing his words very carefully. It looked like they indeed had taken a Sadida prisoner and were either mocking their beliefs or she had lied about her identity. For what purpose, he could only wonder.

“Perhaps that is so.” The new voice forced Joris to turn around in surprise. It belonged to an older-looking Eliatrope with a white tunic and glasses. “Indeed, from what I’ve gathered, Sadida created ten dolls in the Primitive Era, but I believe my king never said anything about this doll being from then.”

The Bontarian furrowed his brow, intrigued. “What are you implying, Master…?”

“Qilby.” He supplied simply, his tone far too affable for the kind of bombshells he was dropping. “And I’m simply speaking the truth, Master Joris. Our dear doll was not created in the Primitive Era, but she was made especially for our king.”

Qilby’s claim feeling like a suckerpunch, he only vaguely registered what the bespectacled Eliatrope said next, “Yugo hasn’t lied once during this entire conversation, Master Joris. The woman the Cra soldiers saw is not a Sadida, yet she is indeed Sadida’s eleventh doll.”

If what they were saying was true… That, that changed everything. He had to make sure. He had to see her with his own two eyes before he risked causing a commotion amongst the Twelvians. If Sadida had truly created a new Divine Doll after all this time… It would shake the very foundations of their civilisation.

His resolution unshakable, he turned once again to face the King of the Eliatropes, “Your Majesty, I request an audience with this Divine Doll.”

Yugo could feel himself bristle at the request, his death grip on his throne turning his knuckles white. His whole body went taut at the mere notion of introducing Amalia to the Twelvians. For a moment, he seriously considered declining, but then he looked around him, his dark brown eyes registering everyone staring expectantly back at him. He looked at the few guards remaining, the sight reminding him of the fact that Master Joris had only attacked his subjects because he and his people still didn’t consider the Eliatropes as one of their own.

And then he thought of Amalia, how her presence was supposed to be a sign of good will, a bridge between the Eliatropes and the races native to the World of Twelve. He almost let out a mirthless chuckle at the reminder. The gods sent Sadida’s most precious flower yet they didn’t do anything to ease their worshippers into accepting them. And then, as if his mother Herself were looking out for him, he remembered Qilby’s words from back when Amalia first entered their lives:

“Not even them would be able to reject our presence for much longer if they learned we have their gods’ blessings.”

Yugo couldn’t help but let out a small gasp at the memory. Loath as he was to admit it sometimes, Qilby’s prodigious memory and his matter-of-factly nature had saved him more than once. They reminded him once again of the place Amalia occupied in their lives:

She was their key to earning the Twelvians’ acceptance.

Ignoring the strange pang in his chest at his thought process, telling him for some reason that wasn’t quite it, the king eventually allowed a pleased smile to tug at the corner of his lip. With a gracious nod towards Master Joris, he turned to the guard that had warned them of the Bontarian’s visit. “Please, Elias, escort Lady Amalia to the throne room.”

“Yes, my King.” With a deep bow, his arm to his chest, Elias did as he was told. As soon as the portal flickered into existence, he was gone.

Catching Master Joris standing tall—or, well, as tall as someone so short could stand—and alert as he waited for Amalia to arrive, Yugo couldn’t help but feel a little sheepish. With a clear of his throat to gain his attention, as soon as the emissary’s black eyes flickered over to him, he explained, “My apologies, Master Joris, but I would suggest you get comfortable.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty, but if Lady Amalia truly is a Divine Doll, then it is imperative I greet her with the respect she is due. Introducing myself to her while sitting down seems hardly appropriate.”

“Oh, and I respect your commitment to protocol, Master Joris. It’s just that it might take them a little while to arrive.”

“I was under the impression that your portals served to transport you from one place to another almost immediately?”

The emissary didn’t miss the way the king and the dragon by his side exchanged meaningful glances. “That is true. However, Amalia will not be coming through a portal.”

Joris quirked an eyebrow at that.

.......................................................................................................................

Saying Amalia fell off her bed in surprise when one of the palace’s elite guards stepped out of a portal and into her room wouldn’t have been right. So the two of them had agreed not to speak a word of the incident. However, that was nothing compared to how taken aback she’d been upon being informed Yugo requested her presence at the throne room.

As Amalia kindly rejected the guard’s—Elias, he introduced himself as—offer to go through one of his portals and allowed herself to be escorted to the throne room, the doll couldn’t help but let her mind wander. The current state of her relationship with the Eliatrope King at the forefront of her mind.

The distance he drew between the two of them hadn’t lessened any in the past few weeks. If anything, it only grew a little bit wider each passing day. It was so frustrating, to know the cordiality you were treated with was nothing compared to the warmth you’d once been subjected to. The kindness and care Yugo used to treat her with could put the sun’s rays to shame, whereas now that stiff politeness of him could put out any fire.

They had yet to have any more meaningful conversations since they returned from the beach, their current interactions amounted to little more than pointless small talk and awkward greetings. The longest the two of them had held a conversation as of late had been when she begged him to talk to Glip and Baltazar about attending their classes.

Ever since then she shared longer, more meaningful conversations with her classmates, some of whom still had trouble remembering irregular verbs, mind you; than the one person on Oma she thought she could call her friend.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t frustrated. And mad. Oh, she was so mad at him for daring to give her the cold shoulder without so much of an explanation! One second they were out and about on their first adventure and having a great time, and the next he acted like having her around was physically painful! And now he summoned her to the throne room like nothing happened? Now he wanted to talk to her?

What gives?!

And why the throne room, of all places!? Couldn’t he have just knocked on her door to talk to her like a normal person? Or, seeing as he was anything but ‘normal’, was it really so hard to visit her balcony and ask for a moment of her time? Apparently it was, for he just had to summon her to the freakin’ throne room like a gobball to the slaughterhouse.

Stealing a quick glance at Elias’ back, the Divine Doll went to discreetly and quickly rub the side of her face with the back of her hands, trying to keep the tears at bay. More than anything she felt hurt. So terribly, incredibly hurt. Her heart would give an uncomfortable squeeze whenever she dwelled too much on her own loneliness. And yet, she couldn’t help but wrack her brain every night as she went to sleep in a desperate attempt to make sense of it all. But no matter how much she tossed and turned and tortured herself, she always came up empty-handed. She just couldn’t understand.

All she knew was Yugo was pushing her away and she didn’t even know what she’d done wrong.

Just as the stinging in her eyes was beginning to become too much to bear and Amalia could feel her throat beginning to constrict into watery sobs, Elias halted abruptly. Looking up in surprise, she saw they had finally made it to the throne room. They’d finally made it to Yugo.

Placing a hand against the gates, the guard asked her, “Are you ready, Lady Amalia?”

Scrambling to blink her tears away and to smooth out her clothes and touch up her hair, all in an attempt to present herself as put-together as possible despite her turbulent thoughts, Amalia gave him a resolute nod.

“Yes, I’m ready. Thank you, Elias.”

With a nod of his own, the young guard opened the gates and welcomed her inside. Entering that room for the first time since she first arrived, Amalia let her gaze wander and reacquaintance itself with what lay inside.

Supporting the weight of the massive oval dome acting as their roof stood eight malachite columns forming an arch, causing the light filtered through the windows to bathe everything in a greenish blue hue. Each of them were separated by what at first glance looked like large stained glass windows but that, upon closer inspection, one could see were actually portals connecting to the different areas around the island to grant their subjects easier access—something she learned from asking Glip about their own portals located around their classroom.

Standing on the other side of the room, meant to be the first thing you saw upon opening the doors, was a long staircase connected to the throne. Amalia hadn’t seen many in the relatively short time she’d been alive, but she had to admit the sight was as impressive now as it had been when she first arrived. Sculpted in stone, the back of the throne branched into two large and imposing dragon wings; an actual green-coloured stained glass window depicting the Eliatropes’ emblem—a spiral formed by an Eliatrope baby and a dragon cub—could be seen right between the two wings.

Now that she looked more closely, Amalia could make out six hollowed spaces located at specific spots on the wings, but before she could try and discern what they truly were, she was brought back to the present by her heart skipping a beat when she accidentally locked eyes with Yugo.

Heat coming to her cheeks at their brief interaction, she bashfully turned her head away, reprimanding herself on seemingly forgetting she was supposed to be mad at him. Just as she did that, however, her gaze ended up on a mysterious little man instead, the sight causing her to blink in surprise. This time, she had to bring a hand to her chest at the powerful thud resounding in her ribcage at the sight of him.

She didn’t know how or why, but this man held a lot of power. She could just feel it.

Yugo’s voice cut through the fog in her mind, and she had to bite down her bottom lip to prevent herself from sighing. She hated how much she missed the sound of his voice.

“Amalia, allow me to introduce you to Master Joris.” He gestured at the man from his throne. “He’s been sent here on behalf of the queen of Bonta.”

Amalia blinked, shocked. Oh, that… That was new. Shaking her head slightly to gather herself up, she curtsied to their guest. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Master Joris.”

For his part, Joris had to admit that for the first time in a very long time he was left quite stumped. The young lady before him was a true vision of loveliness, with her soft and delicate features, her silky green hair, her doe-like eyes, and her elegant figure. He had a feeling she had to be the most beautiful Sadida he had ever laid his eyes on. The only one he believed could eclipse her beauty was the late Queen Sheran Sharm, whose hand had been the most coveted amongst the nations until she eventually chose to marry King Oakheart.

Truth be told, the resemblance was uncanny.

However, perfect as Lady Amalia looked, she was still just a Sadida. Her complete lack of doll-like attributes like stitches or the leafy headband Divine Dolls were known for were proof enough of her utter lack of divinity.

“The pleasure is all mine, Lady Amalia.” He greeted back, his manners impeccable even as he feared he was being duped. “Forgive me for being so brazen, my Lady, but His Majesty has informed me of your heritage?”

“My heritage…?” She echoed, not sure where this was going.

“Indeed. I was told you are Sadida’s eleventh doll.” He explained. “And that you were sent here by the gods?”

Oh, so that was what he meant. Amalia let a small smile grace her features. “That is correct, Master Joris. Father created me to be Yugo’s’ bride.” She stated proudly, completely unaware of the way her declaration had Yugo panicking inside. Okay, he did not mean for that piece of information to slip out. And judging by the way Master Joris’ eyes widened in surprise, there was no way he hadn’t heard her.

Ignoring the way the Council of Six collectively lost their minds as they tried to figure out how to do damage control of the situation without screaming their lungs out hysterically, Amalia went on, “He says I am his masterpiece.”

Even in the midst of his internal screaming, Yugo couldn’t help but agree with the Leafy God. Amalia was truly a marvel of nature. Regardless of how her sisters had turned out, it was clear the nature god had outdone himself. Which, more often than not, only made his already difficult life harder.

“I am sure Sadida Himself is very proud of the outcome, Your Grace… if what you say it’s true.”

That made her frown, uncertain. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I beg your pardon, Lady Amalia, but I was sent here to inquire about the sighting of a Sadida woman living on Oma Island alongside the Eliatropes. You see, such a thing could have rather… unfortunate consequences we ought to avoid. Which is why I am here, to make sure there is nothing to worry about.”

“But there isn’t any Sadida woman living on Oma Island…” Amalia muttered, squinting her eyes, uncomprehending.

“That is what King Yugo said as well, yes.” Joris nodded, before his dark gaze met Amalia’s brown eyes, a small shiver running down her spine at the intensity of his stare. “He explained you’re actually a Divine Doll, but I’m afraid that is something I must verify myself.” Then, raising his palm up, he gestured towards her, “If you don’t mind…”

Despite the rocky state their relationship was in, Amalia found herself staring back at Yugo for guidance. “I don’t understand…”

His heart squeezing in pity at the sight of the doll’s discomfort, Yugo offered, “I believe Master Joris is trying to ask you for some proof that you are indeed a Divine Doll, Amalia.” His voice was so soft and reassuring he surprised even himself.

He tried to ignore the way his siblings exchanged knowing glances as they gestured at him with their heads.

Again, Amalia blinked, only this time she was more surprised at the simplicity of the answer. “Oh, really?” She asked, turning back to the emissary for confirmation.

“If it’s not too much trouble, my Lady…”

While Master Joris remained as stoic and alert as always, his hands behind his back as he awaited for Amalia to prove her identity, the Eliatropes and their dragons braced themselves. Adamaï in particular snapped his mouth tightly shut. They were already used to the doll’s demonstrations of divine power and were half expecting some kind of mystical wind to pick up at any given time and scoop Amalia up while leaving a mess of leaves or flower petals in its wake.

In fact, they were so ready for some kind of chaos to ensue they couldn’t decide whether to be disappointed or relieved when Amalia disappeared behind a harmless puff of smoke instead. Both the Council of Six and Master Joris could only look on, perplexed, as a small brown and green rag doll emerged from the puff of smoke and walked over to Bonta’s emissary.

As soon as they were just a few inches apart, Amalia smiled up at a speechless Master Joris before bowing down deeply. “As I said, my name is Amalia, Master Joris. I am Sadida’s eleventh Divine Doll. I hope this is enough to prove my identity.”

For his part, Joris just… stared, almost unblinkingly. Okay, even he had to admit this was new. On the bright side, it also proved that Lady Amalia was definitely one of Sadida’s dolls.

Snapping out of his trance, he cleared his throat a little awkwardly. He returned Amalia’s bow with a small one of his own. “It is more than enough, my Lady. My apologies for doubting you.”

“I trust this is enough to assuage your queen and the other nations’ concerns?” Yugo stated, his demeanour outwardly calm despite the undercurrent of powerful emotions running below his skin. He didn’t even have to look to know his siblings shared the same fears: the last thing their people needed was another war for their right to exist.

Which is why a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders when Master Joris nodded in response. “Rest assured, Your Majesty. This should be enough to put our rulers at ease.” But just as Yugo and his siblings were about to release a sigh of relief, the emissary’s next words caused them to stiffen up again, “However, I hope you will understand I must inform them of Lady Amalia’s true nature. This kind of development, Sire, is… It’s truly astounding for our people, you see.”

“I understand.” The Eliatrope barely suppressed the urge to groan and rub his face in aggravation. Still, there was something he had to ask. “But do tell me, Master Joris, will this affect my people and our relationship with your leaders in any way?”

“All I can say for certain, King Yugo, is that they will surely grow interested. As I said, Lady Amalia’s presence is a very serious matter.”

“Do you mean my presence might cause problems?” Amalia inquired with a worried hand to her chest, her doll-like appearance only showcasing the vulnerability she was displaying at that moment. She had mostly remained silent during the two men’s exchange, but her worries had spiked up at the thought of causing trouble for the Eliatropes.

Distantly, Yugo couldn’t help but notice it was kind of adorable… Before realising what he was thinking and forcing himself to focus on the conversation at hand with a shake of his head.

Master Joris was quick to raise his hands in a placating manner. “Oh, no, my Lady. It’s not that. Trust me, no Twelvian would be foolish enough to try anything against one of Sadida’s dolls.” From the corner of his eye, Yugo could see Nora releasing a sigh of relief at that. He honestly felt the same way, as it meant their people should be safe as long as Amalia was with them. His eyes flickered back to the ambassador when the Bontarian added, “Although I should probably warn you your presence will warrant their interest in you. Expect more news from Bonta in the near future.” He told that last part to Yugo, turning to meet him directly in the eye.

“We will, Master Joris. Thank you for your visit.” It’s what he said, but deep down Yugo was far too occupied begging Eliatrope to let this be a one-time thing.

And thus, with one last polite bow to both the king and his bride, Master Joris picked his backpack up and, under everyone’s astounded gaze, disappeared in the blink of an eye, a gust of wind the only indication he had ever been there.

“Okay, I think it’s high time I said what’s on everyone’s minds”, Chibi spoke up for the first time since they met their unexpected guest, gesturing wildly at the space he had just occupied, “What in the Great Goddess’ name was that guy?!”

While his siblings shared their theories on the mysterious little man that had just turned their world upside down, Yugo’s eyes fleetingly met Amalia’s, before the two of them averted their gazes as quickly as if they’d been burned, a flush on their cheeks that didn’t go unnoticed by Adamaï.

.........................................................................................................................

Sure enough, just as Master Joris had promised, barely a week after his surprise visit, a Cra-crafted magic arrow drove itself into a wall, startling them all. To say Glip almost had a heart attack as he saw it pass right under his nose, literally, would be an understatement. With class cancelled that day due to the sudden fright, the Council of Six met up once again for an urgent meeting, apprehension behind their every move as they all gathered around their king to discover the contents of the letter.

Unsurprisingly, it was a letter from Master Joris informing them of Queen Astra and the other rulers’ reaction upon discovering they harboured Sadida’s youngest daughter. Surprisingly—and by that they meant shockingly, astonishingly, heart-attack-worthily—, the World of Twelve’s different nations had convened amongst themselves and reached the decision to extend the Eliatropes an invitation to Bonta, where they would all meet up in a banquet meant to celebrate such wondrous occasion.

All they asked of the Eliatropes in return was that both King Yugo and Lady Amalia were present. Beyond that, any other member of their ruling class was welcomed to attend as well.

Once they got over their initial shock and excitement over what that could mean to their people, the most cautious members of the Council—namely, Mina, Phaeris, Chibi, and Grougaloragran—warned them they had to be careful. As great an opportunity as it was, they could not let their guards down, therefore, it would be wise if some members stayed behind to oversee and protect their kingdom in case of an attack or an emergency.

They all agreed wholeheartedly with that. Not surprisingly, Efrim was the first to volunteer to stay behind, and Yugo couldn’t help but feel grateful for that. His youngest brother’s hostile and distrustful nature, especially around Amalia, would not do them any favours with improving their relationship with the Twelvians. And seeing as Glip, Baltazar, and Shinonomé would remain as well and they weren’t exactly battle-oriented, then having the more combat-ready Efrim around was actually the wisest choice.

As they all discussed how they would proceed and how they would behave at the festivities, Yugo couldn’t help the strangled yelp that escaped his lips when Nora roughly grabbed him by the hood and yanked him down to her eye-level. Her pink eyes glimmered with the utmost seriousness, the kind that she usually reserved solely for battle.

Struggling out of her grip, he scowled at her. “Nora, what are you doing?!”

But she remained unbothered, her hands on her hips and her face as expressive as a rock. Rather than acknowledge his rightful outburst, she just stated flatly. “You have to summon the Royal tailor. Now.”

The king’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Are you sure? I mean, it’s true it’s been a while since we last donned more formal clothing, but—.”

“It’s not that!” Nora snapped. Giving her brother’s words some thought, though, her hand to her chin, she then admitted. “Alright, that too. After all, we can’t exactly present ourselves to what’s supposed to be a civilised party wearing our battlesuits; we must showcase our people’s own rich heritage and history to the other rulers. But that’s not what I meant!”

“Then what did you mean?”

Nora actually rubbed her face in frustration, groaning exasperatedly as she went. Each passing day the reason why Yugo never got married was less of a mystery and more of a foregone conclusion.

“Amalia, Yugo. I mean Amalia! The Twelvians think she’s your bride, meaning she will be our queen!” She hissed, causing her brother to flinch at her outburst. “If we want to show them we are serious about coexisting peacefully, we must show them Amalia is one of us so they'll have no chance to try and drive us away!”

Just as she finished her little spiel, she brought a hand behind her back and opened a portal. Sticking her hand inside, she flicked Efrim in the back as a warning to keep his mouth shut. Knowing him, no doubt he was about to protest and insist the Sadida Doll was definitely not one of them.

“Nora is right.” Shinonomé agreed, coming to stand by her sister as she stared directly into her king’s eyes. “As impressive as Amalia’s shapeshifting can be, I highly doubt she’ll be able to replicate our traditional ceremonial clothing. She needs a professional’s help.”

“Grougaloragran would appreciate a new ceremonial tunic as well.” The black dragon piped up, though he shrank a little into himself at the unimpressed glances his siblings were sending him. Feeling a little bashful, he rushed out to say, “That and we should show the Twelvians we are taking this invitation seriously. We must look the part.”

Yugo could only look back and forth between his siblings in disbelief, his mouth agape. Groaning quietly to himself, a hand to his temple to soothe his rapidly impending headache, he couldn’t take it anymore. Sometimes his siblings were impossible.

“Whoah, whoah, whoah!” He exclaimed loud enough for them to hear. After a short while of him gesturing wildly at them, their heads finally snapped to look back at their king, expectantly. “Have you all forgotten already?! Despite what Master Joris and the Twelvians seem to believe, Amalia is not my bride! I’ll have to clear up any misunderstandings at the celebration before they can cause any trouble!”

“Well, duh.” Phaeris chimed in, shrugging. Yugo could feel himself staring owlishly at the turquoise dragon; that had to be the least dignified reaction he’d seen of him in the several centuries they’d been alive during their current reincarnation.

Unperturbed by his king’s stare, the dragon went on, as if what he was about to say were common sense, “It is important we explain the situation with Lady Amalia, it’s true. Otherwise, they might accuse us of lying to serve our own purposes.”

Some of the tension left Yugo’s body. “Yes, that’s right. Thank you, Phaeris.”

But Phaeris wasn’t done. “But, as Nora pointed out, it is also imperative we make it clear that Lady Amalia is with us, lest we risk being deemed as undeserving by the other nations and they try to take her away.”

“Which would then rob us of any immunity Lady Amalia’s presence might grant us by virtue of her being a Divine Doll.” Mina finished for him, sharing a meaningful nod with her twin.

“In other words, you’d better summon the Royal tailor as soon as possible, Yugo. We’re going shopping!” Nora announced, throwing one hand in the air in celebration. Truth be told, the tone of her voice sounded more like she was just looking forward to getting some new clothing, rather than preparing for an extremely important diplomatic mission.

As the rest of the Council murmured in agreement all around him, Mina and Chibi discussing things like the overall design of the outfits they would commission, Yugo eventually gave up with a sigh and a helpless shrug. He arched an eyebrow when Adamaï landed softly by his side, an encouraging grin on his maw.

“Look on the bright side, Brother. You’ve been thinking about summoning the Royal tailor on Amalia’s behalf for a while now. Now’s your chance.” He winked playfully at him.

Yugo snorted at his brother’s antics. “Oh, Ad. You always know just what to say.” He rolled his eyes, only half-joking.

......................................................................................................................

Lately, the best way Amalia had to describe her life would be by saying each day felt like a tornado passed by and turned it all upside down, swooping her up as it went. One day Yugo summoned her to the throne room where she had to prove her identity to a mysterious little man overflowing with power beyond mortal comprehension, and the next there was a knock on her door she barely had a few seconds to even respond to before a bearded, older-looking Eliatrope came rushing in and started taking her measurements and talking about fabrics, and complementary colours and ball gown shapes and who knew what else.

Amalia was convinced not even her father had pricked her with a needle as many times as this man—the Royal tailor, apparently—had when he was sewing her up. And she was a doll Sadida made from scratch!

Now, despite her limited time on the World of Twelve, Amalia had to admit she had grown to be quite coquettish. It didn’t take long for her to develop a healthy kind of appreciation for quality clothing and looking one’s best. And when the tailor told her she had been summoned to Bonta alongside the Council of Six, she was more than willing to go along with it and look the part.

What she wasn’t so appreciative about, however, was spending countless hours still as a statue as she had her measurements taken and her skin pricked by needles. And finding out about said invitation through the tailor and his assistants when it should have been from Yugo was just the last nail on the coffin. Especially when, apparently, the Twelvians expected her to go as Yugo’s plus-one.

That little son of a weed was starting to really get on her nerves. In fact, Amalia remembered she couldn’t keep her temper from flaring at such revelation, to the point she ended up startling the poor tailor half to death when she stomped on the floor in frustration and her bed shot up to the ceiling in response, the action causing a small tremor to echo around the palace.

One thing was to avoid her—which was a very hurtful thing to do to a friend in the first place—, but to send literally anyone else to tell her important news, especially when they concerned the two of them? She was starting to get really sick and tired of whatever game Yugo was playing.

A scoff escaped her lips, which earned her the curious glances of the guards escorting her. But she paid them no mind. She was far too busy wallowing in her own bitterness. She was so angry she had to bite down on her bottom lip to keep herself from groaning in aggravation.

So he wanted to play, huh? Fine, she would play along. She would go to the banquet in Bonta as his partner, play the part, but she was done being the only one always making an effort to get close to each other. So his definition of friendship was to be distant and aloof? Fine. That was exactly how she was gonna be.

The Sadida Doll had just made up her mind when she was finally led to the palace entrance, where she’d meet up with Yugo and the rest of the attending members of the Council before they all left for Bonta. Despite the large gates leading outside being closed, the doll could still make out the excited chatter coming from the other side. The Royal tailor had been so kind as to inform her they would address their people first before parting for Bonta, hence the location where they would meet up at.

Fine by her. She had yet to truly meet any non-Primordial Eliatropes beyond the palace staff and the children.

As she waited for the Council to appear, Amalia took some time to admire her new clothes. In the end, she had to admit she liked her new dress a lot more than she had been expecting she would.

More importantly, she had been pleasantly surprised to find out she quite enjoyed the simple elegance it conveyed. She wore a modest cream silk dress that reached down to her feet and left her shoulders and arms exposed. Apparently, that colour had been chosen precisely so it would create a nice contrast with her dark skin. The tailor had described it as having a semi-sweetheart neckline and a mermaid skirt, although he insisted it would not impede her mobility and the skirt was specifically designed to flare with her movements. And Amalia had to admit she liked the way it fluttered around her as she walked.

While primarily white, the dress wasn’t without a touch of colour. A forest green sash was tied around her waist, with the ends hanging from the centre and going all the way down to just above her shins. A golden belt buckle showcasing the Eliatropes’ emblem helped fasten it. And draped around her shoulders was a large, sheer equally green shawl. The fabric was big enough to act almost like a cape. Much like the belt buckle, it was fastened around her neck with a matching golden brooch with their emblem engraved on it.

As for her hair, for once Amalia wore it almost entirely loose, allowing it to stretch down to its actual length—just below her upper back. A simple high bun held together by a modest headband completed the hairdo.

Despite how peeved she was feeling at the moment, Amalia had to admit both the Royal tailor and his assistants had done a splendid job. She would have to thank them later.

Her good mood instantly soured as soon as she registered the familiar flash of blue light from the corner of her eyes. The soft thud! coming from beside her as well as the fact that she could feel someone towering over her was all she needed to know Yugo and his siblings had arrived.

“Good afternoon, Amalia.”

Wait, that was it? That was all he had to say after so long without even speaking a word to each other? Just a simple greeting? No apology due to how he’d been acting? No further explanation as to what they’d be up against? Didn't he have anything to say about how she looked?!

The Divine Doll grit her teeth and clenched her fist so hard she almost drew blood, trying to restrain herself. She had already decided she wouldn’t let him affect her anymore. Forcing herself to take a calming breath through her nose, she turned to look back at Yugo…and was left frozen on the spot, although she could feel her cheeks grow hot at the sight.

Much like herself, Yugo had dressed himself up for the occasion. And much to her chagrin, her eyes immediately travelled up and down his body in admiration as her brain struggled to process what was going on.

While he still wore a blue hooded cloak, this one had more golden details than his usual one, with gold lining up the seams beyond just the hood. Even in her speechless state, a part of Amalia couldn’t help but find it odd that he insisted on covering his head despite going on official business with the other monarchs, although she was oddly relieved and endeared to see it wasn't enough to hide the fact that he’d braided the bangs framing his face. She hated how adorable it looked. Instead of his usual bodysuit, he wore white harem pants and sandals, and while his dark blue fingerless gloves remained, the same couldn’t be said about his sleeves, as he wore an equally blue, sleeveless, high neck top with more golden lining highlighting his pectorals and sides. A silk sash the same colour as his cloak tied to the side of his waist completed the ensemble, joining both halves of his outfit seamlessly.

However, what really caught her eye about the ensemble was how the lack of sleeves brought attention to the weird markings on his arms. They were like spirals going up and down his arms, snaking around his forearms and curling it on themselves on his shoulders and wrists. It was definitely strange, and yet, the weirdest thing of all had to be how those markings looked more like scars, for the skin they covered was of a darker tone as the rest of him.

She must have been staring a little too hard, for after letting out what sounded like an awkward cough, Yugo eventually explained. “These are ceremonial Wakfung tattoos.” He gestured at them. “It’s not customary for Eliatropes to get them—if you look closely, you’ll see none of my siblings have them—, but I find they help to better project and manipulate wakfu. Ad has them too, though only in his true dragon form.”

Blinking slowly in surprise—partly at the information and partly because that was the longest he’d spoken to her in a while—, Amalia finally turned her focus back at the remaining members of the Council of Six. Sure enough, not only did they not have the same markings as Yugo on their skin, but they also wore similar clothes to him, even if they shared the same colour palette as their regular outfits or had little details that helped them to stand out. For example, Nora wore a bandana around her neck, no doubt meant to act like her usual mask; and Chibi had pieces of gold scattered all over his clothes; Mina was the only one beside herself to wear a dress, and her hat was more elaborate than usual, with even more details embroidered onto it; and Qilby… Well, he looked marginally less haggard than normal.

Adamaï, Grougaloragran, and Phaeris, however, looked the same except for Grougal’s tunic looking a little more regal. Amalia supposed it made sense; as dragons they didn’t have much use for clothing in the first place.

She was so engrossed in her own thoughts, she couldn’t stifle the gasp that let her mouth when Yugo interlocked their arms, the crook of her arm coming to rest against his. She was so startled by the action she almost forgot to be angry at him. But she recovered just in time to discreetly puff out her cheeks in annoyance.

“Are you ready, Amalia?” He asked, and for a moment she hated how genuinely concerned he sounded. But she was not going to fall for his fake pleasantries again.

Her tone was flat when she answered, “Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose.”

Before Yugo had time to dwell on the apparent lack of her usual excitement, Chibi turned to address the guards standing by the door. “Open the gates.”

“Yes, sir!” With their customary greeting, they pulled the rope that served to open the large doors, giving way to the excited crowd outside as they cheered and celebrated their leaders.

“Long live the Council of Six! Long live King Yugo!”

“May the Great Goddess be with you!”

“All hail our leaders!”

After a few more minutes of cheering and applause, Yugo raised his hand as a silent request for his subjects to quiet down. Seeing the gesture, little by little, the noise around them died down, the Eliatropes present waiting for their king to speak.

Yugo allowed a reassuring smile to tug at the corner of his lips. “My beloved people, as you all know, we have been granted a once-in-a-lifetime chance to prove our intentions are pure to the natives of this world. It is our duty, as your leaders, not to let you down.”

“Today we will be travelling to Bonta,” Chibi continued, his tone measured and collected. Amalia was sure that had to be the most serious she ever heard him. “From what we’ve gathered, the city is one of the most prosperous and powerful nations in all of the World of Twelve. And such, it is imperative we leave a lasting impression on them, for this could be the first step into receiving their blessing to live alongside the Twelvians.”

“We promise to both gather information regarding our neighbours and to prove our own worth as a kingdom.” Qilby added, adjusting his glasses with one finger.

“Hopefully, by the time this is over, we will have earned their respect and will be one step closer to finally earning their trust.” Nora went on, her pink gaze betraying her hopes for what the night might entail.

As the members of the Council kept on talking and assuring their people they would do everything in their power to bridge the gap between Twelvians and Eliatropes—something Amalia still didn’t fully understand but no one bothered to tell her about—, the Divine Doll felt a hand tugging at the skirt of her dress. Blinking in surprise, she looked down and found herself face-to-face with a beaming little girl.

She remembered her from class, her name was Camilla and she was very shy but very sweet once you got to know her. Which was why it was such a shock that she seemed to have overcome her shyness to hand a flower to her, a small blush on her cheeks.

Oh. That explained the little prick of pain she felt earlier.

Allowing her first genuine smile of the day to grace her features, Amalia leaned down and gracefully took the flower from the girl’s hands and placed it at the base of her bun. And with that, little Camilla beamed up at the Sadida Doll once more before going back to her parents.

It was at that moment that Amalia realised things had got oddly quiet. Looking back at the crowd, she almost flinched upon realising they were all staring back at her. Her second mistake was subconsciously glancing at Yugo for answers, the sight causing her chest to constrict almost painfully.

The way the Eliatrope King was looking at her—his eyes glimmering with fondness and an unfairly adorable grin on his lips—was as soft as butter. Despite the way her heart skipped a beat, a part of Amalia wished he wouldn’t look at her like that, not when he had spent weeks avoiding her like the plague. It was simply unfair.

What he said next almost brought her to tears.

“I would like to thank Amalia especially for making all of this possible.” He said, and the doll couldn’t decide between swooning at his words or smack him on the back of his head with a vine. “Without her, who knows how long it would have taken the other nations to express an interest in getting to know us.”

“Long live Lady Amalia!” The Eliatropes gathered exclaimed almost in perfect unison.

In spite of her turbulent emotions, the green-haired beauty had to admit it felt rather nice to have your name chanted like that.

Just then, Qilby stepped forward, holding several glass bottles in his hands. He took one and raised it high above for all to see. “These potions were sent to us by the ambassador of Bonta himself. Apparently, they will transport us directly to the palace, where the banquet will take place.” After he said that, he distributed each and every one of them amongst his siblings and the doll.

As she took hers and stared back at it, Amalia thanked Sadida for their existence. She could not promise her new dress would arrive intact at Bonta had she had to travel through one of Yugo’s portals again.

Yugo himself spoke next, taking the cap off and raising his own potion up, an action they all soon mimicked. “For our future!” And he gulped down the magic beverage.

“For our future!” The Council repeated, following suit and drinking their own, with Amalia scrambling to do the same.

And in a literal flash, they were gone.

.................................................................................................................

When her eyes finally adjusted to the change in lighting filtering through her eyelids after drinking the potion, she finally opened her big brown eyes to take it all in. What she saw caused her to let out a gasp of surprise.

They had been transported into a moderately-sized hexagonal room with white marble walls, royal blue tapestries hanging from some of them while the others held portraits of what she could only assume were relevant figures in Bontarian history. She was inclined to believe they were previous rulers, as they all wore some sort of golden crown with wings. Beyond that, there were potted plants adorning the corners—they were healthy, she could tell, but they would definitely benefit from some actual soil and sunlight.

“Looks like they’re waiting for us.” Nora piped up, drawing Amalia’s attention with her.

Her eyes landing where the pink-eyed Eliatrope was staring at, the doll finally took notice of the large royal blue with golden hinged doors right in front of them, the cacophony of voices coming from behind. Amalia couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. It felt like all she did lately was wait in front of doors.

“So, how long do we have to wait for?” Chibi asked no one in particular. “Do we just go in or…?”

“Phaeris believes it is customary to wait until one is formally introduced by an announcer. Perhaps that is the case here as well.” The turquoise dragon pointed out.

“For once we agree, Phaeris.” Qilby murmured, rolling his eyes alongside his dragon sibling upon making eye-contact with each other. With a low scoff, he adjusted his glasses over his nose. “I suggest we wait until we are formally introduced.”

“And what if no one is supposed to introduce us?” Adamaï questioned, an eyebrow raised.

“Then we wait for Bonta's little errand boy to come find us.” The eldest Eliatrope said dismissively.

As the others were discussing how and when they should step through the doors to meet the other leaders waiting for them, Amalia was momentarily startled by Yugo placing his hand over the one resting on the crook of his forearm. Even though she knew it was meant to be a polite way to ask for her attention, given his recent behaviour towards her, to the doll it felt more like a loud demand.

“Amalia, remember how you introduced yourself to Master Joris?” He asked, momentarily taking her aback. Then again, what else was new with this man?

“You mean the first or the second time?” She shot back, trying to keep her voice cool and unaffected.

“Uh… The second one. When you transformed to prove your identity.”

“Oh. Yes, I remember.” She nodded. “Why do you ask?”

“Do you remember you told him you’re supposed to be my bride?”

Her eyes widened as realisation finally hit her. Oh. That. She had been so caught up trying to assure Master Joris she truly was a Divine Doll and talking about how her father had created her, she totally forgot about that little detail. More specifically, the fact that she had been told that wouldn’t be happening almost as soon as she stepped foot in Oma.

She averted her eyes as she shyly pushed her fringe away, embarrassed. “I’m sorry about that, Yugo. I really wasn’t thinking about that back then.”

“It’s okay, Amalia.” He told her reassuringly, and at that moment she wanted nothing more than for him to stop being so good to her if he was only going to go back to ignoring her once this was over. “Don’t worry, I’ll clear up the misunderstanding. But I need you to do something for me. Is that okay?”

“What is it?”

“My people, they… We need this. We need to leave a good impression on this world’s rulers, and you’re our key to achieving that.” He swallowed, as if to give himself some time to gather his thoughts and find the right words to say. His hold on her hand tightened a little. “My siblings and I believe the Twelvians will be more welcoming of our people if they see you’ve become one of us. So even if you’re not my bride, we… I need you to show them that your home is Oma Island, that your presence among us is indeed the gods giving us their blessing to live on their world. Do you think… Do you think you can do that?”

Even though he was in no position to ask any favours of her right now, not after the way he’d treated her lately, or the fact that the way he phrased it made it sound like he himself didn’t believe her being sent to them was meant as a sign of good will from the gods—from her father—, Amalia had to bite down the retort forming on the tip of her tongue. Despite everything, he was right. She still didn’t know what the situation was like between the Eliatropes and the Twelvians, but the more time passed, the more she felt it couldn’t be good.

Even if no one told her upfront, it was clear to see if you paid close attention. Like the way Yugo insisted she wouldn’t be able to leave the island even when she was allowed to explore with him by her side. Or the children’s wistful sighs and longing looks at the thought of playing outside of Oma’s confines. Or the way the entire Council and palace staff seemed on edge as soon as Master Joris arrived.

Whatever the reason, this was important to all of them. And she couldn’t risk jeopardising it just because she was mad at Yugo.

So with a sigh and a heavy heart, yet feeling determined by her choice, Amalia gently squeezed his hand back. “Rest assured, Yugo. You and your people have welcomed me to your kingdom, and now I shall honour our agreement. You can count on me.”

If the king noticed the way she was back to talking in an overly formal manner with him after so long, he didn’t show. Instead, he just smiled down at the doll. “Thank you, Amalia. Really, it means a lot.”

Not trusting her own voice, the Sadida Doll limited herself to nodding.

Finally, it looked as if Phaeris’ prediction had been right, because they were all brought back to the present by the sound of trumpets being played coming from the other side of the doors. Then, as they all took positions to present themselves as composed and regally as possible, a nasally voice announced, “Presenting King Yugo of the Eliatropes and Lady Amalia, accompanied by the distinguished members of the Council of Six Adamaï, Chibi, Grougaloragran, Mina, Phaeris, Nora, and Qilby.”

“Why do I gotta go last? I’m the eldest!” She heard Qilby grumble to himself, before he let out a little, outraged huff.

No sooner was the announcer done speaking, did the gates open up, bathing the waiting room in the bright lights coming from the incredibly vast ballroom, a cacophony of voices echoing around the walls as they all took their visitors in.

As they made their way inside, his hold on Amalia tight but not too much as to not risk hurting her, for he feared the Twelvians would try to separate her from him—from them!—, Yugo wasted no time scanning the room. Many of the people present he recognised from their botched attempt at introducing themselves, when they accidentally crashed a meeting between the world’s leaders, but many others he did not remember. While most of the guests appeared to be Bontarians, many others had more defined races, which suggested they belonged to their respective ruler’s entourage.

Or maybe Bonta was that much of a cosmopolitan and multiethnic area. That, he didn’t know.

For her part, Amalia was enraptured at the prospect of finally meeting the gods’ followers. As her eyes travelled around the space in search of her father’s people—in search of her people—, she could finally see for herself how, indeed, a god’s worshippers inherited some key aspects from their deity.

Eniripsa’s followers shared their patron goddess’ delicate features and fairy-like wings, all of them traits that underlaid their unparalleled skill at tending to the ill and wounded without even batting an eyelash. She had trouble understanding why Fecas had blue hair while their goddess was a dark brunette, but the golden, horned armour some of them wore was unmistakable. Cra had inherited their goddess’ golden hair, pointy ears, and poise, even if Amalia had to admit the older woman who seemed to act as their leader hadn’t exactly inherited the same astonishing beauty as her father’s dear friend.

While, oddly enough, female Sram were pretty much regular, masked women, it was plain to see their god’s skull-like features through his male followers. All Ecaflips present seemed to replicate their god’s feline grace, and the way she could spot several of them playing card games around the room made their connection to the feline deity of chance all the clearer.

As their group slowly made their way to the centre of the room, where a portly woman with golden skin, short platinum blond hair and covered by a blue mink cape stood alongside a much taller, dark-skinned woman with much narrower features—the familiar crowns on their heads hinting at their true position as Bonta’s rulers—, the sight of Master Joris by their side brought a relieved smile to Amalia’s features.

To be honest, she was glad to see a familiar face. Especially after catching sight of what she could only assume was the Osamodas royal family. Besides their blue skin and moorg-like ears and horns, the reason she could easily pinpoint their loyalty to the beast god was the fact that she got the exact same feeling she experienced when she had been first introduced to their patron god. And it wasn’t a pleasant one.

Although she had to admit her eyes lingered for a moment longer on what appeared to be the eldest daughter, as her clothing was closer to something she herself would wear—although a lot tackier—compared to the feathered robes the members of her family donned. But even that did nothing to soothe her nerves as her cold, calculating red eyes seemed to scrutinise her.

She sent a quick prayer to her father so they wouldn’t have to interact.

Almost as if Sadida himself had heard his youngest daughter’s plea and sought to offer some comfort, Amalia’s whole face lit up in excitement when she finally took notice of the small entourage standing close to the Bonta rulers. The strong sense of kinship that enveloped her let her know she’d just found exactly what she’d been looking for: the Sadida royal family.

It seemed to be composed of a father and son duo, the few remaining men by their side appeared to be on high alert, which implied they were actually some high ranking officials rather than royals. Through them, the Divine Doll could see some key aspects that immediately reminded her of her father. Beyond standing taller than most other races, their skin was also considerably darker—unless you counted Twelvians whose gods had blue skin, like Osamodas and Sram, of course—, not unlike tree bark. Their clothing, heavily inspired by the vegetation they surely surrounded themselves with, was also a clear indicator of where their faith laid. However, the biggest indicator was their head and hair. Even though they didn’t wear masks like Sadida, the men’s faces were entirely covered by their green manes, regardless of how they were styled, clearly acting as a nod to her father’s aversion to showing his true face.

As they finally arrived right in front of Bonta’s queen—or was it queens?—, Amalia couldn’t wipe the grin off her face at having finally found her people. After weeks of being the only non-Eliatrope or non-dragon on Oma, it was extremely pleasant to find more people like her.

Her gaze flickered back up to the women standing before them when one of them cleared her throat. It was the shortest one.

“Greetings, King Yugo of the Eliatropes and honourable members of the Council of Six. We are immensely honoured by your presence.” Amalia almost flinched when her golden eyes landed on her. “And especially you, Lady Amalia. Your arrival truly is a blessing.”

Not sure what else to do, Amalia simply offered a polite bow of her head. “It is I who is blessed to be here, um…” She trailed off, mortified to realise she had no idea whom she was even addressing.

Luckily for her, the woman simply let out a thunderous cackle. “Wherever are my manners? I have yet to introduce myself.” With a low chuckle, she stood a little bit taller, her head held up high as she spread her arms wide in a welcoming gesture. “I am Queen Astra of Bonta, and by my side is my wife, Queen Selene.” She gestured at the dark-skinned woman.

The woman, Selene, offered a small nod and a smile of her own, “Pleasure to meet you.”

This time, it was Yugo’s turn to speak, “I believe I speak on behalf of not only my siblings, but the entirety of our people when I say we are truly honoured to be welcomed into your land, Your Majesties.” He made a show of looking around. “And to be given the opportunity to officially meet the World of Twelve’s royal families, too.”

“Trust me, King Yugo. No Twelvian in their right mind would ever want to miss such a momentous occasion. As far as I’m concerned, the only ones who aren’t here are the Brakmarians.”

Even though her tone was meant to be affable and kind, there was something under the surface that caused the Eliatropes to tense up. They knew they wouldn’t suddenly be welcomed with open arms just because the other nations now knew about Amalia, so they knew better than to lower their guards in the face of a possible sneak attack. The fact that Brakmar chose not to attend the banquet was a bad sign. Maybe there were Twelvians foolish enough to disrespect one of Sadida’s dolls.

Sensing the rising tension, Queen Selene rushed out to clarify. “Please, don’t misunderstand. The only reason they’re not here is because of Bonta and Brakmar’s ongoing rivalry.” She let out an amused chuckle, though it was hard to tell how much of it was real and how much of it was rehearsed. “Truth be told, had the banquet taken place in Brakmar, Astra and I would have most likely sent Master Joris in our stead.”

Their eyebrows raising slightly at that revelation, both Yugo and Amalia flashed questioning glances Master Joris’ way, who limited himself to confirming his queen’s explanation with a silent nod.

Queen Astra’s imposing voice drew their attention back to her. “But enough of all this pointless chatter, there will be time for that throughout the night. Right now, I’d highly recommend you enjoy yourselves and mingle with the other guests as we wait for dinner to be served. After all, that’s what we’re all gathered here today for.”

“Everyone here is especially interested in hearing more from you, Lady Amalia.” Queen Selene added, a wry smile on her lips. She motioned for them to go. “Let’s not keep them waiting for much longer.”

Thanking and bowing to them one last time, the Eliatrope entourage turned around to make their way to a less crowded area where they could begin strategising on how to best benefit from the night. As they went, everyone gathered went back to their own conversations, almost as if they hadn’t been carefully studying their every move as soon as they stepped into the room.

Eventually, they stopped near a table overflowing with refreshments and appetisers that stood close to the windows leading to the balcony and a little ways off to the centre of the room, where distinguished gentlemen were beginning to take lovely ladies out for a dance after politely asking. As the music coming from the small orchestra began to play, filling the air with uplifting melodies, couples would move to the beat of the music, their coordinated steps creating a magical choreography that left Amalia breathless even as she remained rooted to the spot.

The scene brought forth a strong sense of nostalgia with it. Memories of her father and sisters dancing under the moonlight flooding her senses.

A small voice in the back of her head urged her to ask Yugo to take her dancing, but she quickly dismissed it as a lost cause. He hadn’t even complimented her on how she looked today, there was no way he would ever be willing to dance with her.

At least she could always watch and dream, she sighed wistfully.

Her focus was momentarily broken from the dancefloor by the sight of a wineglass appearing right in front of her. Her eyes followed the arm holding the glass until she was staring back at Yugo.

“It’s only fruit punch.” He assured her, twirling the contents of her glass experimentally. “I figured it’d be wiser since we do not know your alcohol tolerance and it wouldn’t be wise to find out at an event like this one.”

The doll had to suppress the urge to sulk and roll her eyes. Of course, he wasn’t looking out for her, but for his people. He couldn’t afford to have her embarrass him on such an important night. A nod was all the acknowledgement he got before she took the beverage from his hand and took a sip. Well, at least it was sweet enough to taste good.

Yugo couldn’t help the small pit of worry that formed in his stomach at her reaction. Amalia had been acting strange all day. He had honestly expected her to be ecstatic at the idea of leaving the island to attend a party so far away, and yet, her face remained the perfect image of stoicism and indifference throughout. She only allowed for a smile to grace her lips when that little girl handed her the daisy she still wore at the base of her bun.

Truth be told, such little detail went wonderfully with the rest of her outfit. The little flower combined with her traditional Eliatrope clothing made her stand out among him and his siblings—even if she always did just that on her own.

She was a beautiful flower amongst Eliatrope’s children.

But that still didn’t explain her behaviour. He was about to open up his mouth to ask her about it when—

“It is a great pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Lady Amalia.” A refined yet smarmy-sounding voice came from in front of them. Yugo didn’t know why, but it made his insides churn. “I must say, you are vastly more beautiful than rumours had me believe.”

Finally, sidestepping other astonished guests who kept murmuring amongst themselves, the origin of the voice revealed itself, causing Yugo to narrow his eyes as he stood a little closer to an unsuspecting Amalia, who could only look on, taken aback. The person who spoke seemed to be a man, and while that would have been the logical conclusion judging solely from his voice, the presence of his broad shoulders and narrow waist confirmed the king’s suspicions.

The feeling of dread that overtook his whole being only intensified the longer he stared at the man. Truth was, whoever this person was, he was peculiar, to say the least. For starters, he was unnecessarily overdressed; with his cyan and light blue jumpsuit, white gloves, and brown snow boots. Draped over his shoulders was a white-furred cape that reached down to his lower back. Judging by his brooch and belt buckle and their obvious relation to time, he had to be a Xelor. And yet, none of that explained the fact that he was wearing winter clothing at a place as warm as Bonta during this time of year. And it certainly didn’t explain why his whole face was encased in ice, two bright, blue round eyes the only thing discernible behind it.

And the way he addressed Amalia… His hold on his own glass tightened. One thing was for certain: he did not like this man one bit.

But before the king could so much as send him packing, Amalia finally found her voice. “Oh, um, the pleasure is all mine, Mister…?”

The masked figure chuckled light-heartedly, bringing a hand to his chest. “Of course, how rude of me. Forgive me, my Lady. I am Count Harebourg, ruler of Frigost.”

Wait, count? Frigost? That didn’t sound like any of the territories where the World of Twelve’s leaders resided, let alone the Xelor royal family—whom, with a quick glance to the side, Yugo found standing all the other way from them and away from Harebourg. Then what was he doing here?

Thankfully, before his twin could do anything rash, it was Adamaï who spoke up. In all honesty, he had almost forgotten he was even there in the first place. “And what brings you all the way here, Your Grace?”

If the dragon’s question bothered him, it was impossible to tell with his mask. And yet, Yugo could hear the smirk in his voice as he answered clear as day, making his skin bristle. “Why, to meet the famed Eliatrope Council everyone has been talking so much about, of course.”

Finally, he leaned forward slightly in a bow, a hand to his chest. But for some reason, the action, polite as it might’ve been, did nothing to endear the guy to Yugo. Things only got worse when he turned his focus back on Amalia, a protective instinct taking over the king as he felt her flinch under the count’s scrutiny. He had to keep himself from scowling.

“Although I would be lying if I said your presence had no sway over my decision, my Lady. After all, it’s not everyday one gets to meet a Divine Doll such as yourself.” Just as Harebourg reached out his hand to grab Amalia’s, he was stopped in his tracks by the Eliatrope King’s voice, a warning laced with his tone.

“I believe we would all feel more at ease if you showed your face, Your Grace. I’m afraid your mask is frightening Amalia.”

“Yugo!” The doll hissed, flustered.

Harebourg himself only let out a low chuckle, his true feelings well-hidden behind his mask. And yet, Yugo could easily make out the tinge of irony in his words. “Says the king who refuses to take his hood off even inside someone else’s home.”

The only thing stopping the Eliatrope from walking right into the Xelor's personal space and pointing a wakfu sword right at his throat, a snarl on his lips, was Adamaï’s steady claw on his shoulders. That, and Amalia's frantic attempts at defusing the situation.

“You…You really don’t have to take off your mask, Count Harebourg. Yugo… um, he didn’t mean to… It’s just…erm…”

However, even as she sputtered on, she flashed the king a brief, warning glare that took him slightly aback and took his words away. She hadn’t looked at him like that since the portal fiasco where she ended up throwing up on a nearby bush. And now she was glaring at him over this guy? Really?

Just, what had got into her?

Unbeknownst to the two of them, the count’s skin prickled at the familiarity in the doll’s voice as she addressed the king. Luckily, he managed to mask his feelings well. Instead, he brought his hands behind his back and puffed his chest out.

“On the contrary, Lady Amalia.” He told her, making her look up at him in surprise. And for a moment, Yugo and Adamaï could only blink in surprise as well, until the Xelor’s next words soured the Eliatrope’s mood further. “While His Majesty could have indeed phrased it better, he is not wrong in pointing out my appearance might be displeasing for you. Please, allow me to rectify that.”

“You really don’t have to do that, Your—.” She trailed off, the words dying in her throat.

No sooner was Count Harebourg done talking than the ice encasing his head was melted by a series of copper valves all around his neck letting out steam. Under the block of ice, the count’s face was hidden by a metal mask with bright, blue glass eyes that, with a mechanical sound, opened up and stored itself away, revealing the count’s true face.

While Amalia’s face grew hot and Adamaï’s jaw dropped, Yugo’s blood ran cold. The feeling only got worse when he heard Nora, of all people, let out an appreciative whistle before saying, “Oh, my…”

“Indeed.” Mina concurred, her tone appreciative. All around them, people whispered, with the women’s input being very much positive.

Much to Yugo’s chagrin, even he had to understand the ladies’ reaction upon the count revealing his true face. The man before them was objectively handsome, with not even the fact that a rather nasty scar on his left eye covered only by a large blue lens taking away from his attractiveness. With his fair skin, squared jaw, icy blue eye and well-trimmed, snow-white hair, he looked every bit the aristocrat he was supposed to be.

The Eliatrope’s heart throbbed painfully at the awestruck look on Amalia’s face as she stared back at Count Harebourg. The cold dread in his veins was only melted off when Frigost’s ruler was faster than him and took the doll’s hand in his and brought it to his lips. Whatever cold he felt before was quickly being replaced by the burning anger encompassing his entire being at the action.

He hadn’t even noticed his clenched hands, tight to the point of turning his knuckles white, were crackling with wakfu until Adamaï made him look at him, his eyes shining with worry. Not finding the strength to answer the question in his brother’s gaze, Yugo simply shoved his claw off his shoulder and focused back on the exchange taking place right in front of him.

“I certainly do hope my true appearance isn’t quite as displeasing as my mask, my Lady.” The count chuckled, his tone light. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if it was.”

She didn’t know why, but she actually giggled at his joke, her nose wrinkling adorably as she did so. And it felt like a knife to Yugo’s heart. “Rest assured, Your Grace. I’d be lying if I didn’t say your face isn’t nice to look at.” Just as the words left her mouth, her eyes widened, a furious flush overtaking her features as she registered what she’d just said aloud.

Yugo couldn’t do much but flicker his eyes back and forth between the two of them, his mouth agape. Were they… were they actually flirting? And right in front of him?!

He started at that train of thought, all his other functions shutting down momentarily. What was it to him? Amalia was his friend and his guest and her presence was key in his people’s future, so it was only natural if he grew protective of her, but she was her own person. If she wanted to flirt with some mask-wearing, one-eyed, aristocratic weirdo, it was her choice! And he had to respect it.

That still didn’t mean he didn’t have a right to feel his skin bristle at the hungry look Harebourg was regarding her with. Okay, so it was still her choice, but she was also far too innocent and inexperienced to be truly left to her own devices. He’d better keep an eye out.

Which was another reason why he could hardly contain the smirk from tugging at his lips when Grougaloragran (finally!) intervened.

“One of the queen’s little attendants has just told Grougaloragran dinner will be served shortly and we should start heading to the banquet hall to be directed at our respective seats.” It was then that the black dragon realised he had actually walked in on something. Tilting his head to the side, he furrowed his brow in confusion. “Uh… Is Grougaloragran interrupting anything?”

Before Amalia got a chance to say anything, Yugo beat her to it, his tone far too chipper for it to be genuine. “Nope! In fact, I’d say you’re just in time, Grougal. I’m starving!” He made a show of rubbing his belly to emphasise his point. Not wasting any time, he interlocked arms with the Divine Doll once more and began to all but drag her away in the direction everybody else seemed to be heading towards.

He threw a dismissive wave over his shoulder and the count’s way. “Lovely talking to you, Count Harebourg. See you after dinner.”

That snapped Amalia, who until then had been staring at Yugo as if he’d sprouted a second head, out of her disbelief-induced stupor. She quickly turned to look at the Xelor over her shoulder and sent him her own wave. “It was great meeting you, Your Grace. Hopefully we’ll get to talk some more tonight.”

“I’ll be counting down the minutes, my Lady! Hopefully you’ll even save me a dance.” He called out to her, before disappearing amidst the throngs of guests making their way towards the banquet hall.

“Keep dreaming, loverboy.” The Eliatrope king couldn’t help but think spitefully to himself.

By his side, Amalia blinked in surprise at the count’s sudden departure, before her brow hardened into a scowl as she side-eyed her ‘friend’. Just, what was that about? First he told her about how important this night was to him and his people, only to then act like he was just itching to bite the count’s head off like some rabid Bow Wow?

And why? Just because Count Harebourg had been nothing but charming to her even if he was a little weird? Please, it wasn’t like he had any reason to get this mad just because some other guy was paying attention to—.

Her train of thought skidded to a halt, her eyes widening at the realisation. Eyes flickering back and forth between Yugo’s pouting face and the space Count Harebourg had been occupying before vanishing, she couldn’t prevent a little smirk from stretching over her lips.

Maybe it was time for a little payback.

........................................................................................................................

“Okay, what was that?” Chibi whispered to his siblings, voicing everyone’s thoughts.

They were walking a little behind Yugo and Amalia, with enough space between them to be able to talk freely about what they just bore witness to, as long as they weren’t too loud. And by Eliatrope, there were no words to describe what they bore witness to.

“Pretty sure it was our king about to go off on that count.” Qilby clicked his tongue and shook his head ruefully. He leaned closer to Nora. “I told you his vehement denial of his denial was a bad sign.”

The pink-eyed Eliatrope nodded.

“Hopefully Yugo will be too busy interacting with the Twelvian rulers to encounter Count Harebourg again.” Phaeris noted, his arms crossed over his chest even as he had to tuck his wings closer to his body just to make sure he didn’t hit anyone as he walked. “We really can’t afford to have them come to blows.”

“Oh, but perhaps that is precisely what we need.” Mina mused aloud, drawing everyone’s startled gazes to her.

“Are my ears playing tricks on me, or are you actually in favour of our brother nuking it out against the Xelor?” Nora asked, a teasing eyebrow quirked at her sister, who simply chuckled in response, remaining as poised as always.

“I never said anything about Yugo and the count fighting, now, did I?”

And with that, she walked ahead of them, her head held up high as she entered the banquet hall and was shown to her seat, leaving her flabbergasted siblings in her wake.

All of them, but Adamaï, who had a good idea about what his wisest sister might have been talking about instead. And, as he spotted Yugo and Amalia and the stiff atmosphere around them, he had to admit she was probably right once more.

He turned his head to look at Chibi when the latter clasped his hand on his shoulder and brought him closer. “Okay, Ad. Be real with me, because I feel like I’m missing something. Is it me, or is Yugo—?”

“He very much is, Chibi. Even if he doesn’t realise it himself.”

Chibi hummed in thought. “You know, it’s kinda funny. I’m used to seeing Yugo’s eyes glow blue whenever he taps into more wakfu than usual, but I never expected him to be visited by the green-eyed monster.”

Adamaï sighed. “I suppose that makes three of us, Chibi.”

...............................................................................................................

Dinner would have been a far more pleasant experience if it hadn’t been for Yugo’s noticeably darker mood. Not like he wasn’t good at hiding it. Whenever someone held a conversation with him, he was perfectly cordial and polite, to the point it would have been impossible to tell if something was wrong. But Amalia had been on the receiving end of his hollow kindness long enough to be able to see right through him. And a quick look around his siblings was enough to tell her they knew better too.

Luckily, Amalia didn’t have much time to dwell on it, as every time her mind would start to wander, someone would address her. A part of the doll was touched at the Twelvians’ devotion and admiration of their gods, seeing as most of the time she would be asked about that person’s specific patron deity and what they were like. Her answer would always be the same, though; she hadn’t really got to talk much with them, but they were all very kind to her.

Once again, she thanked her father for the fact that none of the Osamodas royals were anywhere near her. She really didn’t know how to say ‘He was polite but very unpleasant and I could tell not even his horns were genuine’ to their faces without sounding rude. At the same time, she also felt extremely awkward when she saw the Sadida Crown Prince was seated alongside the Osamodas princess she saw earlier, which meant the reason behind her Sadida-like dress was that they were at the very least betrothed.

Amalia hadn’t even stepped foot on the Sadida Kingdom and she already feared for her father’s people’s future if an Osamodas was to rule them.

Regardless of her personal feelings on the horned god and his followers, at the end of the feast Queen Astra had declared they were now free to spend the rest of the night however they pleased. And for a bunch of Eliatropes with a mission, that meant fostering closer relationships with the other royals.

More importantly, in spite of the rocky state her and Yugo’s relationship was in, he had gone out of his way to ask her for help, and Amalia was not petty enough to deny him and his people of an opportunity they had long been waiting for. Regardless of how tired she felt. She honestly didn't know how these people did it. It had only been a few hours of interacting with others and she was already exhausted.

As much as it saddened her to admit it, she was beginning to think she wouldn’t be able to dance after all out of sheer exhaustion.

She was about to follow after him and his siblings as the Eniripsa Queen asked for their presence when Master Joris appeared seemingly out of nowhere. His sudden appearance caused Yugo to halt and stare at him expectantly.

“If I may, Your Majesty,” he started, his little, black eyes set on the Eliatrope King. “I believe it would be better if Lady Amalia sat this one out.”

Yugo blinked, surprised. “I beg your pardon?”

The ambassador raised his hands up placatingly. “I mean no offence, King Yugo. It’s just that there was a time where I was new to this kind of gathering, too.” He looked back at the Sadida Doll, offering her the kindest smile she had ever seen on the little man’s face. “I do not know how you’ve been spending your time on Oma, Your Grace, but I know from experience spending all night talking to dignitaries when you’re not used to it can be quite taxing.”

It was as if Master Joris’ words had forced Amalia to acknowledge for the first time the true depth of her exhaustion. Her feet ached against the cold floor, her cheeks were sore from smiling so much, and even though she had been instilled courtesy from birth, she was beginning to feel like her head would explode if she had to address anybody else as ‘Your Highness’ or ‘Your Honour’, or by any other title one more time.

But she knew what her role was. Her presence was important to the Council, so she couldn’t just call it a night while they represented their people. She couldn’t do that to them.

Which was why she almost gasped in surprise when Yugo said, “If that is what Amalia needs, fine by me.”

“Are-are you sure, Yugo?” She asked, wrapping her arms around herself for comfort despite herself.

No. Yugo wasn’t really sure. On the one hand, because the plan was to keep Amalia close in order to showcase to the Twelvians their own gods approved of their presence on their world and, more importantly, to keep her safe in case this was just a trap to take her away. And on the other hand, because a small part of him spiked up with anxiety at the thought of leaving her alone and for Count Harebourg to find her. He hadn’t been able to move past their brief interaction all evening, the mere memory of it was enough for his expression to cloud over with emotions he himself had trouble deciphering.

But, as always, one look at Amalia was enough for his resolve to crumble like dust. She looked so tired, so vulnerable. She had been doing an astounding job all evening entertaining those who asked for a moment of her time and making sure to emphasise she had grown quite fond of Oma Island and its inhabitants. Moreover, unlike him and his siblings, who had been born to lead and navigate the world of politics and diplomacy, Amalia was a Divine Doll. Even if her true purpose remained undisclosed, Yugo highly doubted such a marvel of nature was meant to spend her time cooped up around a bunch of stubborn Dracoturkeys like monarchs were known for being.

Maybe that was why she’d been so weird all day, because she was so out of her element.

All the more reason to give her some time to relax. She’d more than earned it.

So he told her as such with a nod and a smile. “I’m positive. Go and take a break, Amalia. We’ll take it from here.” Then, he turned to Bonta’s ambassador. “Master Joris, do you think you could look after her?”

But he just shook his head regretfully. “I’m afraid I must remain by your side, my King. You see, I’m actually on-duty tonight. But rest assured, I know just what to do.” He pointed at the far side of the room, where an older-looking white Ecaflip and another that was equally old but bald were lounging on a divan, playing cards. “Those are my sons, Kerubim and Atcham, my Lady. Go with them. They’ll make sure no harm comes to you.”

Amalia could only look on, flabbergasted, but ultimately chose not to say anything. She really couldn’t explain how someone like Master Joris, who seemed to be in his thirties or his forties at most and was of an indiscernible race could be the father of two old Ecaflips, but then again, she wasn’t one to talk. After all, her father was essentially a mask-wearing, humanoid tree, yet all his daughters were either dolls or utterly beautiful young women.

There was, of course, the fact that he had literally sewn them up himself to be that way, but who was she to judge in the first place?

So with a polite nod as thanks to Master Joris and a grateful smile at Yugo, she turned back to the direction the Bontarian had pointed at and began to make her way between all the guests. Just as she avoided crashing into a laughing Iop, she bumped into somebody else.

“Oh, my Gods, I’m so sorry.” She rushed out to apologise as she touched up her hair in case it got dishevelled due to the impact.

“On the contrary, my Lady. It is I who should be apologising.” Responded a cool and collected feminine voice.

Blinking rapidly to gather her thoughts, Amalia finally allowed herself to pay more attention to the person she collided against. She was a Cra in her twenties, with short platinum hair and vibrant emerald eyes. Just by looking at her the Divine Doll was immediately reminded of her father’s close friend—unlike her people’s matriarch, the woman before her had indeed inherited the Great Huntress’ beauty.

She might have been staring for a little too long, because the Cra politely clearing her throat snapped her out of her daze. “If you will permit me, Your Grace, I’m afraid I’m needed elsewhere. So, if you don’t mind…”

“Oh! Right. Of course.” No sooner did the words leave Amalia’s mouth that the Cra left her side, disappearing amongst the throngs of people with a grace and ease that sent the Divine Doll reeling.

Blinking slowly at the woman’s retreating form just before she vanished, Amalia eventually shrugged at her hurried departure. She was probably there as part of her people’s entourage and had to return to her leader’s side. With wayward thoughts about hopefully catching sight of her later in the evening, Amalia focused back on the mission at hand—joining Master Joris’ Ecaflip sons.

The sound of boisterous laughter and muttered curses after a few more minutes of walking was all the indication she needed to know she had finally arrived.

“I don’t know why I even bother to play with you. You always cheat!” Accused the hairless Ecaflip, a slight lisp in his voice.

“Look who’s talking!” The white-haired Ecaflip shot back, offended. “Need I remind you you used to be a Brakmarian assassin? How’s that for playing dirty?”

“Would you just let it go?! That was like two lives ago!”

“It was our last life and you know it! I don’t know about you, but I’m not looking too forward to dying for real yet, so don’t go taking our nine lives away.”

“You are so dramatic.” He rolled his eyes.

“Says the one who flies off the handle whenever Ush visits…” The other scoffed.

“Don’t say that show-off’s name in my presence!” He hissed. Literally. His hackles rose and he bore his teeth at that.

“Um, excuse me?”

“What!?” Both of them snapped, flashing furious glares at whoever dared to interrupt their bickering. To say they felt like slapping themselves at the sight of the famous Divine Doll their father had been talking about standing right in front of them, flinching at their outburst, would be an understatement.

“I…Is it a bad time? Should I leave you two alone…?” Amalia trailed off, more than ready to get the Heck out of there when the Ecaflip brothers scrambled to stop her.

“No!” The white-haired one exclaimed, before forcing himself to calm down. He tried again, his tone far kinder, almost like a vendor’s. “No, no, no, my dear. It’s quite alright. You’re not interrupting anything.”

“Just some old brotherly bickering.” The hairless one waved the whole thing off, his large ears tucked to his head betraying his uneasiness. “I’m Atcham, and the lucky fleabag over there is my brother Kerubim. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Kerubim Crépin,” the aforementioned Ecaflip corrected. “But yes, it’s always a pleasure to meet a creature as lovely as you, my Lady.”

That made her giggle, the smile returning to her lips. It was nice to meet someone friendly for a change. “The pleasure is all mine, my name’s Amalia.”

“We know, little lady. Our father has been telling us all about you ever since he met you.” Atcham said, patting the space on the divan beside him and beckoning her closer. Amalia took the seat offered with a smile, careful with her dress.

“I see. It was him who told me to come with you. I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh, but of course! You have nothing to worry about!” Kerubim assured her, picking up the cards scattered over the table separating him and his brother; he began to shuffle them. “This actually reminds me of my adventuring days.”

“Wait, really? You’re an adventurer?” Amalia leaned forward in her seat, awestruck.

Before Kerubim could get a word in, Atcham corrected, “Was. The most adventurous thing he does now is doing his shop’s inventory and drinking his weight’s worth of bamboo milk.”

His hand coming to rest on top of his necklace—two dice hanging from a rope—, Kerubim grumbled, unamused at his brother’s antics. “Come on, cut me some slack. I’m not getting any younger, you know?”

“I’m only slightly younger than you and I still train every day.” Atcham retorted, not missing a beat.

At that, Kerubim harrumphed in offence, his arms folding over his chest as he stuck up his nose in distaste. “And yet, I could still beat you any day of the week.” He spat petulantly.

That got Atcham’s hackles to rise up again, his tail flicking furiously back and forth. Amalia actually had to duck to the side to avoid getting hit by it. “Only because of that ungodly luck of yours, you nepotism-enjoying fleabag!”

Sensing another argument coming, the Divine Doll chose best to intervene, and fast. But mediating between two arguing siblings was easier said and done. She needed to think of something to say that would distract them from each other. But what?

It was then that she caught sight of a waiter balancing a place with several red-tinted glasses. An idea materialising in her mind at the sight.

“I-I had no idea there were potions that could transport you from one place to another!” She sputtered out, causing both Ecaflips to turn back to her with raised eyebrows at the sudden change of topic. “I can’t even imagine the kind of thing we might have had to do to arrive here if it weren’t for your father sending them to us.”

Exchanging one look, both brothers simply shrugged, reclining back in their divans. The doll fought to urge to sigh in relief. “What can we say? That’s what they’re for.” Kerubim mused.

“Those potions certainly make travelling long distances easier.” Atcham agreed, before turning his focus back on Amalia. “But I’m sure you guys would have found a way to make it even without them. After all, you have your portals!”

Amalia chose not to comment on how she’d rather have her intestines pulled out rather than go through another Eliatrope portal. It was pretty much the same experience, after all.

Instead, she said, “I was wondering, how can you get more? You know, out of curiosity.”

But Kerubim and Atcham only shook their heads at her question, their expression regretful. It was Kerubim who spoke. “I’m afraid that isn’t so simple, my dear. Those things are hard to make and even harder to come by, meaning they can be very expensive. Of course, I always try to offer the best possible price to my customers in my shop, but even I can’t really afford to just hand them over either.”

“Which is a pity,” Atcham went on. “Since going anywhere without them can take anywhere from a few days to months, especially if you don’t have mounts like the Cra soldiers or Osamodas do.”

“I see…” That gave Amalia something to think about. So even after all this time the Twelvians hadn’t been able to figure out a better and more accessible way to travel long distances. She was shaken out of her thoughts by the side of a deck of cards being offered to her.

Looking up, she saw it was Kerubim who held it out for her, a smile on his lips. “Care to play with two old fleabags, my Lady? I must warn you, however; we won’t go easy on you just because you’re a Divine Doll.”

Amalia took the cards with a smile. “I’ve always been curious to find out if what they say about Ecaflips and their luck is true.”

“Oh, in that case you’d better throw in the towel now, my pretty. ‘Cause my brother over here is the luckiest cat on the planet, second only to our father.”

“Your father…?” She raised an eyebrow. Master Joris didn’t strike her as the kind to gamble.

“Ecaflip.” Both of them answered in unison, and if Amalia had been drinking anything, she would have done a spit take.

“Your father is Ecaflip?!” She screeched in disbelief. “But I thought it was Master Joris…”

“And he is,” Atcham nodded. “He’s our adoptive father and the one to raise us this current reincarnation.”

“But the Big Tease Himself sired us,” Kerubim finished for him. After a brief pause, he added, “And twenty more children.”

“But that means…” Amalia trailed off, trying to connect the dots even in her disbelieving state. “But that means you’re demigods like me!”

“Why did you think our dad sent you here with us?” Kerubim winked at her with a smirk on his lips.

Amalia opened her mouth to speak… and promptly closed it again. That actually made sense. However, she had no time to dwell on the implications behind that before a million questions pushed through in her mind.

“And what’s it like?” She blurted out. When her fellow demigods sent her matching questioning glances, she elaborated. “I mean, being an Ecaflip demigod. I… really haven’t met any before now.”

Their faces lighting up in understanding, the brothers exchanged another glance, this time to decide who should speak. With a gesture from Kerubim, it was Atcham who eventually explained:

“It’s not really that different from being a regular Ecaflip, really.” He shrugged before placing down one of his cards as the game went on. He jabbed a finger his hairy brother’s way, “As I said, this one was especially famous in his prime for being extremely lucky, being Ecaflip’s favourite and all… But other than that, we get a watered-down version of our father’s immortality in the form of nine lives or reincarnations, a place inside the Ecaflip dimension, and not much else, really.”

“Wait, your father plays favourites?” Amalia echoed, aghast. Out of everything the hairless cat had shared with her, her brain had locked in on that particular fact, the concept feeling foreign to her.

“You bet.” Atcham nodded, while Kerubim tried to be a bit more diplomatic.

“It’s a very common thing among parents, even if they don’t mean to. Although in my case I believe it has to do with the fact that he actually got to ‘raise’ me and grow attached to me, at least, that’s what dad said. It all happened in a past life, you see. And we don’t get to remember those.” He explained, placing his own card down, causing Atcham to click his tongue in distaste as he saw he had the upper hand. “Anyway, I’m sure you’ve experienced something similar with your father, my Lady.”

“What? No, never!” Amalia protested, visibly offended. The mere idea was preposterous. “Father has always been nothing but kind and loving towards every single one of us; he would never play favourites.”

As the Divine Doll focused back on her cards—namely to try not to get too demolished playing against two Ecaflip demigods—, the siblings shared knowing glances. They debated whether to tell her or not, but ultimately chose not to.

What she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.

..................................................................................................................

It had been less than an hour since Amalia went looking for Master Joris’ sons, and they had already established conversation with at least five different rulers. It was still too soon to determine if they were truly welcoming of their people now or not, but at least bridges were beginning to be built.

The Iops were a boisterous bunch, although Qilby didn’t appreciate how they seemed to have no interest in the overwhelming source of knowledge he provided, or how they insisted on focusing on the seemingly more physically imposing members of their group. Yugo and Adamaï actually had to stop Chibi and Grougal from entertaining their desire for a playful match, knowing their siblings would demolish them. Phaeris had been challenged to a fight too, but he had always been far wiser in choosing his battles.

All in all, they seemed like perfectly amicable people, and the least likely to be scheming anything behind their backs. If only because they lacked the capacity to come up with long-term plots…

If possible, the Pandawas were even more affable. The only thing bigger than their queen’s size was her generosity. Not even five minutes into the conversation and she had already offered to share her people’s bamboo milk with them. It took a lot of convincing and a very diplomatic approach on Yugo and Adamaï’s part to kindly reject her offer; they really couldn’t afford to be intoxicated while trying to foster positive relationships with the World of Twelve’s natives.

The Sufokians were… interesting, to say the least. While they remained unfailingly polite throughout the entire conversation, the empress and his son were particularly standoffish. Their every word seemed to convey a hidden meaning, and the Eliatropes couldn’t tell if they simply didn’t hold them in high regard or if, on the contrary, they didn’t value any other nation beyond their own. It was safe to say at first glance they were the least welcoming of them out of everyone they had talked to tonight.

After talking to the Sram and Enutrof royals—and swearing they weren’t after their kamas to the latter—, Joris redirected them back to Queens Astra and Selene; Bonta’s rulers were seemingly engrossed in their own conversation. When the members of the Council arrived to their side, it was Selene who picked up on their presence.

“Ah, I see you’re making good use of your time by acquainting yourselves with the other world leaders. I trust everything is going smoothly?”

“We could not have asked for more, Your Majesty. We are truly grateful for this opportunity.” Yugo spoke for all of them, the Eliatropes and their dragon siblings bowing politely in unison to show their sincerity.

“We only regret that the Brakmarians weren’t as willing to give us a chance.” Adamaï added, testing the waters. If he played his cards right, he could use both nations’ rivalry to get into Bonta’s good graces.

His plan seemed to work, for a smirk drew itself on Astra’s lips. “It can’t be helped, Brakmar has always done their own thing. Such a backwards nation…” She shook her head regretfully, bringing a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“If you don’t mind my asking, Your Majesty, what do you mean by that?” Nora asked, intrigued.

“Brakmar’s way of doing things clashes immensely with Bonta’s, and not just because both nations were founded by opposing forces.” Selene explained, although she didn’t elaborate on that last nugget of information. “For instance, Brakmar doesn’t allow women to even attend a gobbowl match, let alone play on their team!”

“It is simply barbaric.” Astra agreed with a scoff.

“Please, forgive my ignorance, my Queens, but what is gobbowl?” Yugo inquired, genuinely curious. Though he was mostly trying to distract the Bontarians from noticing Phaeris and Mina restraining a fuming Nora from going to Brakmar and giving their rulers a piece of her equal-opportunity-opinionated mind.

“Oh, that’s true. You haven’t been here long enough to learn about it.” Astra said.

The attending members of the Council of Six collectively chose not to point out that the Twelvians hadn't really allowed them to know more about their culture until less than a week ago. Instead, they focused their attention on Joris as he went on to explain.

“Gobbowl is the World of Twelve’s most popular sport, played all over the planet, regardless of the nation.” He explained with the same stoicism so characteristic of him. “However, out of all the nations, no one can match Bonta and Brakmar’s love for it.”

“Although, in Brakmar’s case, it’s more fanaticism than love.” Selene pointed out with a sneer. “They hold it in such high regard they even allow their team’s best player to make decisive calls during trials. It wouldn’t be far-fetched to believe their authority surpasses that of the Prince of Brakmar himself!”

“There’s a match tomorrow, if you’re interested, you can experience it for yourselves. I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourselves immensely.” Astra offered, and that was the most genuine she’d sounded all evening.

“Thank you kindly, Your Majesty. We’ll think about it.” Yugo replied. “But I believe we should focus first on our diplomatic mission.”

The queens nodded, with Astra motioning for them to follow her. “Of course. There’s actually someone I believe you should meet.” She told them right before leading them somewhere else in the ballroom.

Yugo immediately understood everything as soon as the monarch stopped, gesturing at the people staring back at them expectantly. “King Yugo, esteemed members of the Eliatrope Council, allow me to introduce you to the Sadida King and Crown Prince; King Oakheart and Prince Armand Sheran Sharm.”

Yugo’s first thought upon finally coming face to face with the representatives of the nature god responsible for the curious little doll living with them had to be that, if Amalia was indiscernible from a regular Sadida woman, then the men got the short end of the stick in the beauty department.

No, that wasn’t right. It wasn’t like male Sadida were ugly per se, it was that it was impossible to tell what they were. Period. The way their hair completely covered their faces did not help matters. Even so, the fact that he couldn’t see their faces didn’t mean he couldn’t sense their aura.

Even without his wakfu vision, the Eliatrope could feel the sheer power and resilience radiating off their royal family. Just the sight of them was enough for him to fully believe their patron god had played a key role in creating the world they all now lived in.

Out of the father and son duo, Prince Armand was the most conventionally attractive, even if he wasn’t exempt from his dreadlocked bangs hiding his face from view. What little the Eliatrope King could see of his face, he seemed to possess a squared, chiselled jaw that went alongside his cultivated physique. The fact that he essentially paraded said physique for all to see also helped bring attention to his sculpted body.

Judging by the way all Sadida present dressed, that is to say, scarcely so, it was clear to see Amalia’s fondness for showing some skin—and going barefoot—was a cultural thing. It was even more shocking to realise Amalia’s fashion choices were actually quite modest in comparison. In fact, Yugo didn’t know what to do with himself at that revelation. His poor heart certainly wouldn’t be able to take it.

If Prince Armand was tall, around Yugo’s own height, that was nothing compared to his father. King Oakheart seemed to be even slightly taller than Adamaï, horns included. He wasn’t as conventionally attractive as his son, with his girth being considerably greater to go along with his height, and his (facial?) hair was far more dishevelled than his son’s well-trimmed do, but his eyes still radiated the kind of wisdom and strength only a true leader could possess.

Yugo was sure he’d been alive far longer than any other person in this ballroom, and he still could only hope to one day transmit the same energy as the Sadida King did with just his gaze.

However, regardless of the respect they were due because of their position, more importantly, they were Amalia’s people. If there was someone whose good graces they needed to be in, that was them.

Which was why Yugo actually went down on one knee as he greeted them, his siblings following suit shortly after. “It is an immense honour to make your acquaintance, oh, powerful Sadida.”

“It is good to finally meet under better circumstances.” Armand commented, and Yugo could feel a chill running down his spine at the tone he used. Surely he couldn’t be talking about…

“It’s all fallen leaves, now, Armand.” The king lightly chided his son, his eyes glinting in warning. His expression turned kinder as he settled his eyes back on the Eliatropes. “Please, forgive my son, King Yugo. As you know, a king can never be too cautious, although his distrusting nature can have its own undesirable consequences.”

Privately, Yugo couldn’t help but think Prince Armand and Efrim actually had a lot in common.

“There is nothing to forgive, for you speak the truth.” Yugo said as he rose from his bowed down position, choosing to remain cordial. “But I must agree with the prince, it is great to finally be able to interact under much better circumstances.”

King Oakheart tossed his head back and let out a thunderous laugh. “Indeed, indeed. And what better circumstances than getting to meet Sadida’s eleventh doll? Her birth alone is a momentous occasion for our people.”

“I can only imagine, my King.” Yugo nodded.

Armand made a show of looking around. “And where is this famed eleventh Divine Doll? I expected her to be a part of your entourage.”

“Armand…” His father warned him, far too familiar with his son’s abrasive and distrusting nature.

But Yugo just let it all wash over him, his smile unfaltering. “Seeing as she is not used to such gatherings, Amalia seemed exhausted. So, as per Master Joris’ suggestion, I told her to rest a little alongside his sons.”

When father and son looked down at the ambassador for confirmation, their worries were put to rest by the nod of his head.

“How gracious of you, King Yugo.” Armand said kindly, but it wasn’t enough to hide the slight sarcasm that dripped from his words. “It’s such a relief to see you take such good care of your bride.”

Just like it did every time any other leader mentioned the same thing, hearing the word ‘bride’ was enough for Yugo to flinch uncomfortably, an action he tried to cover up by clearing his throat. It also caused his siblings to discreetly roll their eyes at how obvious he was being. “While I thank you for your kind words, Prince Armand, it’s hardly anything to write home about. After all, being mindful of how someone’s feeling is just basic decency.”

“Indeed.” The Sadida prince concurred.

“However, there is a correction I wish to make.”

That got their attention. After exchanging a look with his son, King Oakheart urged him to continue. “Do tell.”

Much like he’d done every time this same conversation took place, Yugo took a deep breath through his nose and prayed his mother would have mercy on him. While admitting to this was meant precisely to avoid future conflicts with the Twelvians, admitting it at all could also lead to trouble. For now, they could only hope for the best.

“The thing is…” He started, hoping beyond hope the Sadidas wouldn’t take this as a declaration of war or something of the sort. “While Amalia was certainly sent to us for the purpose of becoming my bride, I must admit that is not the case. There is nothing between us beyond a close friendship.”

“Is that so?” The king raised an eyebrow, but because he could get another word in, the Eliatrope rushed in to clarify.

“Do not misunderstand, please. My people and I are extremely grateful to have been blessed with such an honour as it is to have been sent a Divine Doll, it is simply that I—our people aren’t in need of a queen, and I would hate for Amalia to feel trapped fulfilling a role that cannot guarantee her happiness.

“Rest assured, however, we are doing everything in our power to ensure she feels welcomed and at home at all times.” He did not need to turn around to sense his siblings sending Nora meaningful glances, their younger sister dutifully keeping her mouth shut for once. Mina in particular had a hand over her shoulder in warning.

The Sadida royals could only blink in surprise at that, not sure what else to say. Finally, after an awkward pause, the king cleared his throat as he straightened himself up, Prince Armand mimicking his actions.

“That is… quite alright, King Yugo.” Oakheart said, not sure where to even begin. “As my son will be able to tell you, we know how challenging it can be to make someone that’s not from the same culture as you feel welcome alongside your own.”

For once, Armand seemed to agree. “Indeed. My wife, Aurora, is an Osamodas princess. It certainly took a while for us to find more common ground once we got married. It certainly helped when she developed a fondness for our haute couture.” He revealed with unmistakable fondness in his voice.

Yugo almost shuddered upon realising the emotionless Osamodas woman with the bangs covering half her face was the prince’s consort. Was it too bad to hope she wasn’t around whenever he had to interact with her in-laws?

“Nevertheless,” King Oakheart’s hearty voice broke him out of his musings. “We certainly hope you eventually get to introduce Lady Amalia to us. Her existence truly is a blessing for our people.”

Sharing knowing looks with Adamaï, Yugo allowed a genuine smile to grace his features.

“Of course. I’m sure she’ll love that.”

....................................................................................................................

Amalia was having a blast with Kerubim and Atcham. Granted, she hadn't won a single game, but getting to witness the two siblings bickering over the pettiest things was unendingly entertaining. She might have lost every single round, but she’d been laughing heartily almost the entire time she spent with them.

“I’m telling you, she kissed me as thanks for helping her!” Kerubim insisted for the fortieth time since the conversation began.

Atcham simply rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that.”

The white-haired Ecaflip pouted. “Why don’t you ever believe me about this sort of thing?”

“Because there’s no reason why a young, beautiful lady like the one you’re describing would ever kiss an old fleabag like yourself, gratitude be darned!” He slammed his cards hard against the table, tired of always hearing the same old song and dance. “If you told me this all happened back when you were still young, maybe I would believe you, but at your age?” He let out a loud, sarcastic cackle before turning his focus back on his cards. “Keep dreaming.”

“It’s still more believable than you losing to Ush because he keeps attacking you whenever you’re distracted…” Kerubim grumbled to himself. When he realised what he’d just said, though, it was already too late.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to utter that black cat’s name in my presence?!” The hairless Ecaflip bellowed. Even from where Amalia was sitting, it looked as if the vein in his forehead was about to pop.

As Atcham threw himself at his brother and the two of them began to roughhouse, Amalia, who had long given up on playing against them, simply leaned back on the divan, an eyebrow raised. Already used to the old Ecaflips’ childish shenanigans, she remained unflappable as they fought. But she was curious as to what they even argued about.

“Who’s Ush?” She asked, causing the brothers to halt mid-fight.

Knowing better than to be rude to a lady, the two of them broke away from each other’s hold and dusted themselves off. With a clearing of his throat, it was Kerubim who explained. “Ush Galesh is another one of Ecaflip’s demigod sons, my dear.”

“Oh, so he’s your brother?”

Atcham scoffed at the mere thought. “In name only. Not only is he from another litter, but he’s got the emotional maturity of a teenager. And the arrogance to match.”

While the doll blinked, not sure what to make of it all, Kerubim elaborated on, “Remember what we told you about our father playing favourites, my dear?” Amalia nodded. “Well, Ush never really took not being his favourite well. Even if he claims to hate our father, it’s plain to see he’s just resentful and envious because he doesn’t hold that place in his heart.

“Now, if there’s one thing Atcham is right about is the fact that Ush never really matured. He takes his anger out on anyone who crosses him and, rather than rely on his natural luck and skill as an Ecaflip, he always makes sure to have the upper-hand whenever he faces an opponent.”

“The upper-hand…?” Amalia tilted her head in confusion.

“He cheats. At everything.” Atcham told her bluntly. Then, he sent his brother a pointed look, as if daring him to contradict him, “Including our fights.”

Kerubim chose to keep his mouth shut for once.

“I see...” Amalia eventually spoke up, rubbing her arm uneasily. “Then it’s no wonder you don’t like hearing about him.”

Kerubim just shrugged. “It is what it is, my dear. Not all siblings will get along just because they’re blood related. Sometimes families are torn apart by internal factors and everyone is much happier on their own.”

That gave Amalia pause, her expression dimming. Truth be told, she hadn’t quite got over what they said about parents playing favourites, or how that applied even to her father. Would that happen to her family? Was it possible that Sadida played favourites or treated some of his daughters better than the rest and that might cause them to drift apart?

She was his youngest daughter and his masterpiece, according to the Leafy God Himself. Did that make her one of his favourites or…?

Sensing they put the very Divine Doll they were supposed to be looking after on edge, Kerubim and Atcham exchanged panicked glances. What would people think if they found out they made a Sadida Doll cry? They would be branded as worse than some of the most despicable criminals to roam the face of the planet!

People would stop coming to the shop!

As they were running out of ideas on how to cheer Amalia up, Kerubim blurted out, “Would you like something to drink, my Lady?”

That seemed to do the trick, for Amalia’s head snapped up at them and she regarded them curiously. “What?”

“Would you like something to drink?” He repeated, making good use of his vendor’s voice. “It’s been a long night. I’m sure you could use something to quench your thirst.”

Now that he mentioned it, Amalia was feeling quite parched. Something to drink should do her some good. “I actually rather enjoyed some very nice fruit punch from the food table right before we were summoned to dinner. Do you think you could get me a glass of that?” She asked them politely with a smile.

“One glass of fruit punch coming right up!” Both siblings immediately sprang into action, giving her military salutes before turning around and heading over to the refreshments table.

As Amalia watched them go, amused, she almost jumped right out of her skin when a suave voice whispered in her ear, “I thought they’d never leave.”

Whirling around in surprise, her eyes widened in shock at the person standing before her.

“Count Harebourg.” She gasped.

“Lady Amalia.” He greeted back, a grin on his face. “I was wondering if you would be interested in granting me that dance?”

Amalia actually hesitated. While it was true she longed to go to the dancefloor and that she had been pleasantly surprised by how the count truly looked, she couldn’t quite get over the feeling she got around him. More specifically, the feeling that emanated from Yugo.

Even though she came to understand the king’s uncharacteristically hostile behaviour came from the fact that the Xelor was paying attention to her, she still didn’t understand what caused it exactly. After all, her main purpose for tonight was to have people paying attention to her, and he hadn’t been anywhere near as angry when others interacted with her throughout the evening. So why did he act like that around Count Harebourg?

There was also the fact that the count himself emanated a dangerous kind of energy. She didn’t know why, but despite Harebourg’s sweet words and kind compliments, the doll couldn’t bring herself to be truly comfortable around him.

She was about to turn him down when her eyes instinctively searched for Yugo, worried about his reaction. What she saw instead made her grit her teeth in distaste.

Standing all the way from over the other side of the room, yet drawing her eye like a beacon of light inside a dark space, was the Eliatrope King. And he wasn’t alone. Beside him was the Eniripsa Queen, quite the buxom beauty who kept inspecting the muscles and tattoos on his exposed arms with keen interest. And all Yugo could do in response was flush furiously and sheepishly while making no attempt at wriggling himself free from her grasp.

Amalia’s irritation flared at the scene. So there she was, worrying about his feelings over seeing her with the count while he let whoever roam their hands all over his body. But again, what else was new? Just like she’d been trying to reach out to him and grow closer, he had been doing everything in his power to avoid her. He only started treating him decently now because he needed her.

Fine, if that was how it was going to be, she would help him get in Frigost’s good graces.

Putting on her most charming smile, she took Count Harebourg’s offered hand. “It will be my pleasure to dance with you, Your Grace.”

“Trust me, the pleasure is all mine.” The count smiled back, a predatory glint in his eye that went unnoticed by Amalia.

.....................................................................................................................

Adamaï could only blink on, unamused, as his brother let himself be inspected by the Eniripsa Queen, choosing that moment to excuse himself to get some drinks. He understood they were on a mission to foster better relationships between their people and the Twelvians, but surely, there had to be a line somewhere. Just with a quick glance at the fairy’s aura it was easy to tell she had no real interest in his brother beyond a medical one, but given how shy and easily-flustered around women Yugo could get, Adamaï was half-expecting him to self-combust anytime soon.

Having said that, this was nothing compared to the way their king’s brain would draw a blank whenever it came to the pretty flower they harboured.

That evening, the dragon had to resist the urge to roll his eyes to the back of his skull in exasperation when his twin caught sight of the Divine Doll looking all dolled-up—pun not-intended. He was starting to become intimately familiar with the way Yugo’s breath hitched at the sight of her, the small, almost imperceptible gasp that would leave his mouth each time Amalia donned a different outfit than the one they were used to seeing her with.

As expected, the moment Yugo went through his portal and landed by her side, he had the exact same reaction. His eyes widened as they travelled up and down every little detail of her body, from her shawl to her skirt, drinking her in. His fingers clearly twitched at the idea of reaching out with his hand and caressing her loose, forest-green hair. And his cheeks were dusted in pink the longer he stared at her.

How Amalia hadn’t noticed all that was beyond him.

He was so head over heels for his precious flower it was almost laughable. Except for two key factors: on the one hand, Yugo refused to admit, even to himself, that he felt anything for Amalia rather than a close friendship; and, on the other hand, in his denial and for reasons Adamaï himself didn’t fully understand for once, he insisted on keeping her as far away as possible.

And whether his twin realised it or not, that alone was pushing Amalia away.

If he didn’t put a stop to whatever hesitation he was feeling at the moment, and soon, he would lose her forever, regardless of what she could have done for their people.

Just as he returned, two glasses in hand, the Eniripsa Queen seemed to have grown bored with her inspection of the king’s physique and moved on to Nora. Given the queen’s analytical mind, it was plain to see she was far more interested in seeing the anatomical differences between male and female Eliatropes, but seeing as his younger sister was never one to turn down an offer to have a gorgeous woman near, Nora looked as pleased as punch.

The same could not be said for Yugo, who was hunched forward with his hands resting on his knees, taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart. Adamaï almost snorted at the sight. It didn’t matter if his twin was twenty or several hundred years old; he did not know how to deal with women.

Not for the first time, Adamaï thanked their mother Amalia seemed completely unaware of the power she held over him. Otherwise, they’d be doomed.

As he tried to regain his breath, having forgotten how to breathe when the Eniripsa Queen began to fondle his biceps, Yugo saw the glass offered to him from the corner of his eye. Looking up, he saw Adamaï looking down at him with an eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Thirsty?” The dragon asked, shaking the glass in front of him to get his attention.

Rolling his eyes at the ill-concealed double entendre, Yugo took the drink and took a greedy gulp. “Thank you.”

Adamaï shrugged. “Don’t mention it.” He flashed his brother a crooked smile that sent a shiver down his spine. “It must be nice being so popular.”

Yugo pouted. “Shut up. You know it’s not like that.”

“Of course, I know. But just because I know it doesn’t mean others won’t take your insistence on Amalia not being your bride as an open invitation to send wedding proposals to you.”

Yugo almost choked on his drink. “What? No! Of course not!” He insisted, offended. “Can you imagine the uproar that would cause? I can already hear the gossip: ‘The Eliatrope King turns down a Sadida Doll to marry one of our royals instead. How scandalous!’,” he mocked in an overly nasally voice. Then, he scoffed. “Please, as if I would jeopardise our kingdom’s well-being by offending the Twelvians because I disrespected a Divine Doll sent specifically for me…”

Adamaï raised an eyebrow at that, knowing that wasn’t exactly the reason why he wouldn’t choose anyone over Amalia. But he chose not to comment on it. Yugo wasn’t willing to be honest with his feelings, not even to himself, and trying to force someone as stubborn as him to see reason was like pulling teeth.

A real pain.

“And what about fostering better relationships by letting Amalia marry somebody else?”

Again, Yugo almost did a spit take at his twin's words. Whirling himself to face the dragon so fast it was a miracle he didn’t give himself whiplash, he asked, his voice strangled. “What?”

Shaking his head, Adamaï sighed. “Nothing, forget I said anything.”

Narrowing his eyes on his brother, suspicious, Yugo eventually chose to let it go… Only for him to start yet again when Adamaï said, “I’m just saying, if you insist on explaining to everyone that Amalia isn’t your bride, yet you stand around her like a guard dog whenever someone else seems taken by her, you might end up sending mixed messages.”

“‘Mixed messages’?” He repeated, incredulous. “What are you talking about, Ad?”

But Ad limited himself to sending him a pointed look. And yet, that was enough for Yugo to understand what he meant immediately.

Oh. That.

That didn’t mean he was willing to admit to anything. Sulking, he faced forwards, refusing to meet the dragon in the eye, and took another sip of his drink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

If it weren’t so frustrating, Adamaï would have actually laughed. “So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? You’re going to pretend your powers weren’t about to go haywire at the sight of Count Harebourg flirting with Amalia?”

“Hate to break it to you, Big Brother,” Nora’s sarcastic voice said practically out of nowhere. Apparently, the Eniripsa Queen had got what she’d been looking for already, leaving her free. “But green looks much better on Amalia than on you.”

Yugo frowned, knowing he was going to regret even asking, “What does that even mean?”

“Jealousy.” Qilby oh-so-helpfully supplied, appearing out of nowhere alongside the rest of his siblings. “You were seething with jealousy because your precious flower was no longer paying attention solely to yourself.”

“It’s normal to feel threatened when you stop being the hottest guy in the room. I would know.” Chibi teased, bringing a hand to his chest in mock solidarity.

Their king actually flushed at that. “That has nothing to do with anything!”

“Then what is the problem?” Mina challenged, an eyebrow raised. The calm in her voice underlaid the fact that her question was merely a formality, for she already knew the answer. She’d known long before Yugo, who still refused to open his eyes to the obvious. “If you’re not bothered by Count Harebourg’s interest in Amalia, then why did you react so strongly to it?”

Pursing his lips in thought, Yugo stubbornly chose to avert his gaze, letting out a sigh through his nose as he took another sip of his drink. “It’s not what you think.”

Because it simply couldn’t be what they all thought. He wasn’t jealous of Count Harebourg! Jealousy implied he feared he would lose Amalia to that half-blind Xelor. But that was ridiculous! The only way he could ever fear losing Amalia to another would be if he had feelings for her, and that wasn’t it.

As fond as he was of Amalia, it was purely platonic. He was only protective of her because, despite her appearance, she was so young and naïve to the world around her. Her child-like wonder and innocence left her vulnerable to being manipulated for someone’s own selfish gain.

He could’ve laughed at the thought. In a way, their situations were the opposite of each other: whereas Amalia was built to be a woman yet retained a delightfully young personality, Yugo had spent decades trapped in a child’s body despite his adult mind. And yet, the two suffered the same predicament—regardless of what they did to prove themselves, nobody ever took them seriously.

As a result, Yugo would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a strong kinship with the Divine Doll. Their similar interests and circumstances—including but not limited to their origins, which were extraordinary even by divine standards—made it all incredibly easy to grow close to her. But there were lines he shouldn’t cross. For both their sakes.

Falling in love with her was one of such lines he would not dare cross.

He was rudely reminded of that fact that day on the beach, and he hadn’t allowed himself to forget about it ever since.

Explaining what love was to Amalia and remembering why she had been sent to him in the first place was a sobering reminder of why he couldn’t afford to let his guard down and fall for her. Doing so didn’t just mean potentially falling for whatever trap the gods had set for his people, but it also meant robbing Amalia of her chance to experience love for herself.

If she truly became his bride, then she would be chained to him for as long as he lived. And the fact that she had been made precisely for that meant she would never be able to aspire for more. Whatever love she believed she felt for him would be a lie, and she didn’t deserve to think whatever one-sided thing there would be between them was love.

She might be a Divine Doll, but she wasn’t an object.

Which, apparently, nobody else seemed to be aware of. Wherever he looked, he saw people determined to worm their way into her life and gain her trust so they could eventually use her to further their goals. Inside these walls, Amalia wasn’t her own person, she wasn’t even a Divine Doll worthy of respect and admiration; she was the perfect political tool.

And everyone was frothing at the mouth at the mere thought of getting their hands on her.

And Yugo just knew Count Harebourg was the worst out of them. His intentions towards Amalia were downright sinister, no charming façade or well-constructed mask would be able to hide that.

Unbeknownst to him, his hold on his glass became a little bit tighter.

Just as Yugo got lost in his own thoughts, his siblings shared worried glances. More importantly, they were frustrated. Not just because Yugo was making things unnecessarily difficult for himself—they’d known him long enough to know that was just a staple of him—, but because they couldn’t do much to help. As close as they all were, Yugo had always liked dealing with his issues alone, sometimes not even Adamaï had access to his innermost worries and desires. The most they could do was to try and talk to him and hope something they said stuck with him long enough for him to see the error of his ways.

It was clear his feelings for Amalia would be no different.

Waiting for their king to snap out of his trance on his own, Grougaloragran let his gaze sweep around the room, bored with the lack of action. For a moment, his eyes landed on the dancefloor and the couples moving to the beat of the music but, growing disinterested even as he saw Amalia in Count Harebourg’s arms, swaying to the music, he focused on somewhere else.

…until what he’d just borne witness to registered in his mind and he was forced to do a double take.

Oh, Yugo was not going to like this.

“Uh, Yugo?” He called out to his king over his shoulder. “Grougaloragran believes you should take a look at this.”

Letting out a sigh, Yugo began, “What is it, Grougal—?”

Only to be immediately cut off by what he saw.

As his eyes followed Amalia and Harebourg as they danced, his blood reached the boiling temperature. A loud crack! echoed throughout the room as whatever remained of his drink splashed against the floor, the shattered pieces of glass falling from his hand.

...................................................................................................................

“I must admit I didn’t expect you to be such a talented dancer, my Lady.” Count Harebourg mused aloud. “Have you ever danced before?”

“You seem to be forgetting my father is known precisely for dancing on the ridges once spring arrives, Your Grace. It is only natural that his own daughters would follow in his footsteps.” Amalia smirked.

The Xelor chuckled. “How shameful of me. I hope you can forgive me, Lady Amalia.” He told her jokingly.

Amalia pretended to think about it. “Well, I suppose I can be merciful just this once.” She giggled.

“You have my thanks.” Count Harebourg smirked back at her.

Amalia had to admit, this wasn’t so bad. Sure, a part of her would’ve still preferred to dance with Yugo, but the count acted like the perfect gentleman the whole time. She was finally having some fun of her own, and Count Harebourg always made sure to make her feel comfortable and beautiful, constantly showering her with compliments and words of praise. She didn’t understand how she’d come to doubt him before.

She wouldn’t mind spending the rest of the night with someone who actually seemed to care about her.

“Do you know that we actually have something in common, my Lady?”

Amalia hummed absentmindedly, asking him to elaborate on that.

“I’m actually a demigod myself.” The count explained, and Amalia almost had to do a double take at that.

Her brown eyes wide, she asked, “You are?”

It was the count’s turn to hum. “That’s right. Xelor is my father.” He chuckled, but it sounded hollow. “I suppose that much was to be expected, given my race.”

“Oh.” For a while that was all Amalia could say, her brain scrambling to catch up with the conversation. Finally, she weakly offered. “Um, I remember meeting him in Inglorium. Right before I was sent here…”

“Oh? And, do tell, what was he like?”

A strained smile stretched over the doll’s lips. What was she supposed to say?! She had barely talked to the guy for, what, five minutes? That was hardly enough time to form an educated opinion on someone’s true character. Especially when all you could focus on as you talked to them was the fact that their eyes and mouth were on their torso and how disturbing that whole imagery was.

“He has his mouth and eyes on his torso. That’s creepy.” Her eyes widened in alarm when she realised she actually said that aloud.

She felt a little bit better when she heard him laugh, loud and unrestrained. He had a nice laugh. The feeling didn’t last long, being replaced shortly after by anxiousness taking hold of her heart at what he said next.

“That’s actually the nicest thing that comes to mind whenever I think about him.” Count Harebourg admitted, taking his hand off her waist to wipe a tear off his eye.

“Really?” Amalia found herself asking. Her heartbeat skyrocketed when the white-haired man’s face morphed into a much more sombre expression.

He remained quiet for a second, pensive, and then, with the same tone of voice one would use to share a secret, he told her:

“Lady Amalia, the truth is I hate my father.”

.....................................................................................................................

To say Yugo was livid would be an understatement. His left eye hadn’t stopped twitching since he caught sight of Count Harebourg with his hands all over Amalia. He had half the mind not to open a portal right beside him and shoot a wakfu beam at the space between them as his first, and only, warning.

The half of his mind who held him back from inflicting bodily harm on that pompous, one-eyed Xelor was called Adamaï, and he was very busy trying to keep up with his Eliatrope twin while the latter was on the verge of suffering a conniption.

“Look at him, flirting so shamelessly with someone else's bride. Can you believe it!?” Yugo all but screeched, gesturing wildly at the two as they danced.

It took every ounce of the dragon’s strength not to roll his eyes in exasperation. “Um, didn't you just spend about half an hour going around and explaining that, while we're truly honoured to take Amalia in, she is not your bride?”

“Yes, but I didn't explain it to him!” Yugo shot back, irate.

“Of course you didn’t.” Adamaï couldn’t help but to think to himself. Aloud, he said, “If it bothers you so much, why don’t you just go talk to them?”

“I can’t just do that!”

“Right, because doing so would be essentially admitting that you’re jealous.”

“I’m not—!” Yugo began, raising his voice. At least, until he noticed the curious eyes staring back at him for his outburst, which caused him to force himself to lower his voice, almost to a whisper. “I’m not jealous.”

This time, Adamaï did roll his eyes in annoyance, but his twin ignored him.

Yugo was having a really hard time standing still. On the one hand, he wanted nothing more than to march over there, grab Count Harebourg by the shoulder, maybe punch him in the face for good measure, and bring Amalia back to them. But, on the other hand, doing so could result in a number of consequences he’d do best to avoid.

Firstly, much to his chagrin, Count Harebourg was an important figure in the World of Twelve, being the ruler of Frigost and all. Secondly, he really didn’t want to cultivate the image of a violent, ill-tempered king who went around punching people he didn’t like. There was no point in trying to be diplomatic this whole time if he then acted anything but. And finally, there was Amalia herself.

Even if every fibre of his being was telling him to go get her, he still had no right to interfere. Regardless of her nature, she was not an object and she wasn’t a child, she could make her own decisions. He couldn’t just intervene in her business, especially when they were nothing to each other, at least not romantically.

As he brought a hand to his chest in an attempt to alleviate the painful pang that resounded in his ribcage at that particular train of thought, he almost didn’t hear Adamaï when he said, “Seriously, if it bothers you so much, you could always talk things out with Count Harebourg. After all, technically speaking, you’re higher up in the pecking order.”

Under no circumstances, shape or form did the two of them let out high-pitched screams at the sudden sound of Master Joris’ voice coming from behind them.

“If I were you, I’d be careful around Count Harebourg, Your Majesty.” Master Joris’ warning rang ominously, his black eyes narrowed into slits. Once he’d recovered from the fright, his words registering in his mind, Yugo couldn't help but scoff.

“You can just call me Yugo, Master Joris. After all, you already trespassed our territory uninvited. What's the point in formality?”

Unbeknownst to him, Joris squinted his eyes at him, intrigued by the new edge in the king’s voice. One that, interestingly enough, hadn't been there when he indeed presented himself at his palace, uninvited. Though glancing back at the dancing couple, he had a pretty good guess as to why that was.

“Anyway, why do you say that? Do you know the count?”

Joris nodded. Honestly, he wished he didn't. “Count Harebourg is an old enemy of mine.”

Yugo and Adamaï’s eyes widened at such revelation, taken aback. “Aren't you an esteemed member of Bonta’s court?” Another nod. “Then why would the queen invite one of your enemies to a banquet you will be attending?”

“Because, regardless of his actions, Count Harebourg is still the ruler of Frigost.” His eyes flickered back to Yugo, the way his jaw clenched a clear indication of how serious he was. “The count’s greatest priority is his people, first and foremost. Anything else is superfluous.”

“Isn't that a quality a good leader should have?” Adamaï asked, not following.

“Indeed, all good leaders should worry about their subjects’ well-being.” Joris agreed, but it was short-lived. “However, never to the extent of being willing to sacrifice another nation for their sake. Trust me, Your Majesty, Master Adamaï, Count Harebourg is not above using others to achieve his goals. And I fear someone like Lady Amalia is ripe with opportunity.”

“You think he has ulterior motives for trying to get close to Amalia?”

“All I’m saying is it would be unwise to underestimate him.” Joris insisted, but his answer was already all Yugo needed to know where Harebourg stood.

For the first time since he first met the man a scarce few hours ago, Yugo felt something other than irritation—genuine fear for Amalia's sake. “Is he truly that dangerous?” He asked, his voice uncharacteristically small.

Joris’ expression turned grave. “Let's just say you aren't the only demigods attending, my King.”

The twins exchanged alarmed glances, knowing how dangerous a demigod Xelor could be. Adamaï in particular grew irritated.

“Didn’t you send Amalia to your sons precisely to keep her safe?” He demanded to know.

“And I will have a talk with them about it, Master Adamaï. However, that doesn’t change the fact that Count Harebourg had most likely been waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce.”

Yugo’s heartbeat resounded in his ears, panic taking hold of his heart and squeezing it tightly. He had to clench his fists until his knuckles turned white to keep himself grounded, to prevent himself from creating a string of portals that would lead him directly to Amalia and allow him to hold her close while he took care of that forsaken count.

He couldn’t act on his instincts, he had to be diplomatic about it. It’d be best if they waited until the music died down to go look for her. That was the right choice, the kind of choice a king should make. He was doing the right thing, for himself and his people.

Then why was it physically painful?

Mina’s voice by his side was both a balm to his fears and a fan to the flames. He must have been so out of it he didn’t even register when she slid up next to him.

“I know you’re trying to do the right thing, Yugo.” She told him, her voice kind. How was she so good at seeing right through him? “And the right thing is making sure Amalia is alright.”

He turned his head to look at her, his eyes unblinking. Mina limited herself to pointing at the dancefloor, where the doll and the count were standing in plain sight. “Whatever it is the count’s trying to do, it’s not a simple dance anymore.”

Terror taking over him at the implications behind her words, Yugo snapped his head back to the direction she was pointing at. A powerful thud! resounded in his ribcage at the image before him, his protective senses flaring alongside a sense of rightful fury. Even from where he stood, he could see Amalia, her eyes wide and frantic as a frightened expression clouded over her features. Holding her with a vice-tight grip was Count Harebourg, the look on his face was downright nightmarish. And yet, the most terrifying thing of all had to be the very real possibility that the Xelor might hurt her.

Under Adamaï’s worried eyes, the ears in his hood twitched; that was never a good sign. His fears were confirmed shortly after.

Before the dragon could so much as blink, Yugo had already jumped inside a portal, a bright blue trail following behind him as he moved from one portal to the next, headed straight towards the dancefloor.

Towards Amalia.

Their siblings, who had watched the whole exchange, all sent pointed glances at Nora. Except for Phaeris, who just raised an eyebrow at his sister’s methods. And people said he could be a tad extreme.

“Aren't you supposed to be the mediator? You know, the one who solves conflicts?” Chibi questioned her, incredulous.

But Mina didn’t even flinch at his outburst, her smile remained exactly where it was.

“Sometimes the best way to solve an argument is by causing it.” She shot back enigmatically, before turning around and moving deeper into the throngs of people.

Not for the first time that day, her siblings exchanged helpless glances, hoping beyond hope she didn’t make a mistake. Much like how they prayed to the Great Goddess that Yugo wouldn’t get in trouble for whatever he was about to do.

......................................................................................................................

The count’s words were so unexpected, Amalia couldn’t help but break their hold, taking one step back in shock. As she stared back at the Xelor, her eyes wide in disbelief, the only sound that left her throat was a quiet, “What?”

But the count just shrugged, as if he hadn’t just shaken her perception of reality. “Don’t act so surprised, my Lady. It’s hard to feel any affection for someone who not once has been there for you when you needed him.”

That… made sense, she supposed, just like she could understand Ush’s distaste for his own father if it was true Ecaflip favoured some of his children more than others. Still, there was something in the way the count uttered those words—so matter-of-factly, so casually, almost as if it was a simple, undeniable fact of life—that sent a shiver down her spine.

Her unease only grew with each other word that left her fellow demigod’s mouth.

“And that is another thing you and I have in common.” He let out a mirthless chuckle. “I’ve always heard misery loves company, but I never truly appreciated its meaning until now.”

When the doll found her voice, it was distinctly small and anxious, “I…I don’t think I understand.”

The count’s affable tone did nothing to keep his words from feeling like cold knives aiming at her heart. “But Lady Amalia, don’t you see? We’ve both been abandoned by our respective divine fathers.”

And just like that, the ice cold fear taking hold of her heart melted away, replaced by rightful fury at such blasphemy. How dare he insult her father like that? How dare he insult her like that? How dare he?

“My father has not abandoned me, Your Grace.” She told him firmly, her tone stern as she balled her hands into fists.

Her frown only hardened into a scowl when he had the audacity to laugh at that, to laugh at her.

“Lady Amalia, your faith in your father is wonderfully refreshing, but you must face the facts.” Just then, a shadow passed over his features, the smile disappearing completely from his face. “As soon as you were created, your father dumped you here to serve as somebody else’s bride, with no care for your feelings or input. Can you really tell me Sadida hasn’t forsaken you?”

For a moment, the doll hesitated, biting her lip. Still, her father loved her. She was his masterpiece, he said so himself! And he was extremely saddened to watch her go. Besides, she wasn’t sent to the World of Twelve on a whim of her father’s, she was there for a reason.

“I’m here because the Eliatropes need me—” Amalia began to defend herself, only to be cut off by the sound of the count’s loud, unnerving laughter.

When his cackles died down and he finally looked her in the eye, it made Amalia wish he’d kept his mask on. The look on his face was the stuff of nightmares.

“The Eliatropes, you say?” He asked, even though he didn’t wait for an answer to continue. “Lady Amalia, can’t you see how those low-lives don’t deserve you? They have no right coming to our world and demanding our approval and cooperation. And now they believe themselves worthy of being sent a Divine Doll? They believe themselves worthy of you?” He let out a low, sardonic laugh, his manic eye fixed on her form.

“Don’t make me laugh.”

Before she had time to react or even register the way the partygoers were all looking at them, Count Harebourg held the Sadida Doll by her arms tight enough for her to bruise where his fingertips made contact with her skin. As that ice-powered madman stared deep into her soul, all she could do in her frightened state was to let out a pained gasp.

“Amalia, come with me to Frigost. If there’s one nation in the World of Twelve that would benefit from you becoming its ruler, that’s my home! Together, we can make everyone pay for turning their backs on us, we can get revenge on the gods for siring us and forsaking us when we need them most! For treating us like we’re replaceable instead of their own flesh and blood!

“You and I are kindred spirits, Lady Amalia, and soulmates like us must stick together.” Count Harebourg’s lips curled into a smile that was meant to be encouraging but that, combined with the almost frenzied look in his eye, only made him look like a madman. “You already hold my heart, my Lady, all that’s left to do is for you to become my countess and to rule Frigost by my side.”

Much to her chagrin, Amalia was paralysed, her mind completely blank as she found herself genuinely fearing for her life. The sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears was so loud, and her eyes so fixated on the man in front of her, she remained completely unaware of the surprised gasps echoing all around her or the flashes of blue light coming from her periphery.

Even as the count’s expression darkened into a hate-filled scowl, she remained out of it until the Xelor was shoved back and away from her with incredible force while a pair of strong, warm, protective arms held her close to an equally warm and strong body. For the first time that night, Amalia allowed herself to just melt into that person’s embrace, feeling safe at last.

She could stay in that comforting embrace forever if given the chance.

Once she’d willed her breathing to go back to normal, the doll chanced to glance up at her mysterious saviour. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of Yugo, his eyes shining a bright blue as his gaze bore down on the count menacingly, a hand outstretched and glowing ominously in case his opponent tried anything funny.

He held her even closer when Count Harebourg got back up to his feet, his own eye shining with fury at the interruption. “You!” He snarled, encasing his arms in ice sharp enough to cut through steel.

But before a fight could ensue, Queen Astra’s voice cut through the thick atmosphere like a knife. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Count Harebourg.” She warned, her guests parting to let her pass. At her feet, Master Joris brandished his log-backpack, his intentions clear.

One by one, the Bontarian guards stationed alongside the walls all came to point their weapons at the Xelor count, at the same time as the members of the Council of Six all came to their king’s aid, daring their opponent to make his move.

Looking around for a way out, Count Harebourg eventually surrendered, his shoulders slouching in defeat as he dispelled the ice on his arms. But not before flashing Yugo a hate-filled glare, a snarl curling at his lips. And with that, he let himself be enveloped by a cold breeze and disappeared.

As soon as the count vanished, the weight of everything that had just happened, as well as everything leading up to that moment, crashed over Amalia, overwhelming her senses to a point it was almost painful. Her mind a turbulent storm, she wriggled herself free from Yugo’s grasp and stormed off towards the balcony, desperate for some air.

After a quick glance his siblings’ way to ensure they’d be fine without him, a concerned Yugo was soon to follow.

................................................................................................................

The moment she made it past the threshold leading to the balcony, Amalia groaned, exasperated, “That was just infuriating!”

“Can’t really argue with you there. I’ve been getting a bad feeling from the count since we met him.” Yugo agreed, his eyes back to their usual dark brown.

He had to take a step back in surprise when Amalia whirled around to face him, a fire in her eyes, “I was talking about you!”

Yugo’s jaw dropped. “Me? But I just saved you from that freak!”

With a humph! Amalia turned back around, crossing her arms. “I didn’t need your help!” She insisted petulantly.

He couldn’t believe his ears. Mouth agape, he shot back, raising his arms in the air in exasperation. “Don't you see what that guy was trying to do from the very beginning?”

“At first he was just being nice to me!” She countered. Deep down, Amalia knew Yugo was right, but she wasn’t in the right headspace to concede anything. So she pressed on.

“Yeah, to get into your pants!” He shouted.

“I don't see how that's possible, since I’m not even wearing pants today!” She screeched right back.Then, she added, haughtily sticking her nose up in the air. “Besides, you heard Master Joris; no Twelvian in their right mind would dare lay a finger on me.”

Yugo could only blink at her, incredulous. She had to be kidding him. There was no way they were having this conversation. Not after what just happened.

“I’m sorry, but was he supposed to realise he wouldn't dare hurt you before or after he grabbed you by the arms tight enough to leave bruises on your skin?”

Amalia didn’t respond, she just stared stubbornly to the side. That lit a fire within Yugo, the outrage he felt growing by the second. So that was how it was gonna be, huh? He spent the entire night worrying for her safety, trying to look out for her, and even saving her from that lunatic, and this was how she repaid him?

He wouldn’t have been able to keep the bitterness out of his mouth even if he tried. “Maybe I should’ve let him take you to Frigost with him, seeing as you didn’t need my help.”

“Don’t pretend like you’re any better.” She shot back, turning her body completely so her back was to him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The Eliatrope asked, his voice low.

But she didn’t answer. She didn’t even look at him.

So, mustering every last bit of patience he had, he tried again. “Amalia, what’s that supposed to mean?”

She still refused to even acknowledge his presence.

“Amalia!”

Still, nothing. Growing exasperated, Yugo almost reached out to her to force her to look at him, but taking notice of how tender the skin Harebourg had grabbed her by looked, he ultimately decided against it. In the end, he opened a portal right in front of her, determined to get her to explain herself.

What he saw broke his heart in two.

Even as she still refused to meet his eyes, it was plain to see she was crying, the tears streaming down her cheeks regardless of how hard she tried to keep them at bay. And the way she was desperately hugging herself for comfort only made his heart throb painfully.

“Amalia…” His anger momentarily forgotten, he tried reaching out to her, only for her watery voice to stop him in his tracks.

“Deep down you’re just like the count, Yugo.” She said, her words like knives to his heart. “You don’t care about me as a person at all, you only care about what I can offer to you and your people.”

“Amalia, that’s not true at all!” He tried to defend himself, aghast by her accusation. “You’re my friend, of course I care about you!”

Much to his consternation, Amalia let out a loud, sardonic laugh, before her eyes turned into daggers as she finally stared back at him. “Oh, really? Is that why you’ve been ignoring me ever since we came back from the beach? Is that why you haven’t been training in front of my balcony anymore? Why, no matter how hard I try to get close to you, you do everything in your power to avoid me? Is that why you recoil from my touch as if my mere presence disgusted you?!”

As she spoke, each word filled with anger, confusion, and hurt, she took one step forward after another, forcing Yugo to go back little by little. She made sure to punctuate each question with a poke of her finger into his chest. The only reason it hurt had nothing to do with the force behind it, but because her words felt like a suckerpunch.

“What do you expect me to believe, Yugo?” She asked him rhetorically. “What do you expect me to think when the first time in weeks you spend with me has nothing to do with you wanting to be by my side, but because your people need me! Something you couldn’t even talk to me about in person. Oh, no! I had to find out through the Royal tailor!” The doll threw her arms to her sides, the tears falling freely down her cheeks.

“You’re surrounded by your family and people who love you, Yugo, but I only have you. But you…” She choked on her tears, her voice watery and broken from weeks of holding it all back. And yet, Amalia made sure to look him in the eye as she sobbed, “You want nothing to do with me…”

And finally, as her voice broke when she uttered those last few syllables, she brought her hands to her face and she sobbed. Her shoulders going up and down as she hiccuped, brokenhearted. And yet, Yugo felt like he was the one who had his heart ripped off his chest at the sight of her. At the sight of what he’d caused.

Swallowing hard, he was forced to face the truth. Amalia was right. She was right about everything. Since there was no guarantee they would ever fall in love, he had promised he’d be her friend, only to break that promise as soon as he got scared. The moment they came back from the beach he didn’t just keep her at arm’s length, he refused to even see her unless it was absolutely necessary.

And, more often than not, it was her who would be looking for him, not the other way around.

He always got defensive and protective of her whenever she wasn’t near, her happiness becoming a priority. But whenever the doll was within reach, his doubts weighed him down and prevented him from treating Amaia like she deserved.

With a heavy heart, he was forced to realise the only reason Count Harebourg got close to her in the first place had been because he allowed it.

“Amalia, I…” He started, swallowing hard. “I’m so sorry. I… I haven’t been fair to you. I-I got so caught up in other things, I didn’t even realise how that made you feel, and I… I’m so sorry.” Technically, that wasn’t a lie, just not the whole truth either. Regardless, he went on. “You don’t deserve the way I’ve been treating you. You’re right, I haven’t been a good friend. But I really want to make it up to you. From now on, I promise to do better, okay?”

She let him place his hands over her shawl-covered shoulders. He supposed that was a start. Tentatively, carefully, he brought his arms around her body, holding her close in an attempt to offer some comfort. His breath almost hitched when she snaked her arms around his sides, just as cautiously. Even in her current state, scared, angry, and tear-stricken, she still allowed him, one of the people responsible for everything, to hug her.

He’d really screwed up, hadn’t he?

After a few more minutes where the only sound that could be heard in the balcony were her quiet sniffles, the Divine Doll broke their hold enough for her to look up at him from under her lashes. Even with her brown eyes red and puffy, Yugo couldn’t help but admire how beautiful she was, his eyes soft.

“You really mean that?” She asked in a small voice.

“Of course!” He assured her. “I promise, I’ll do anything in my power to make it up to you. Is there anything you want to do?”

She remained quiet for a few seconds, pensive, and then… “There’s a thing or two I’d like to do.”

“Tell me, I’m all ears. Whatever it is, we’ll do it.”

“I’d really like to dance with you.” She told him, a flush dusting her cheeks. “I’ve been meaning to ask you all evening, but I didn’t think you would accept.”

He smiled at her. Sometimes she was satisfied with the simplest things. “Of course, I’ll dance with you, Amalia.”

Steadily growing in confidence, she added. “And… and you haven’t said anything about my dress. I lost count of how many times I got pricked by a needle for this, you know?”

If anything, his grin only widened. “There’s no words to describe how you look, Amalia.” He told her honestly.

Her blush deepening, the doll had to cough slightly before she finally said, glancing shyly back at him. “You… you don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Why, thank you. Anything else?”

“Yes, I’d like to do something fun while we’re here in Bonta.”

“Actually, I might just have the perfect thing.” He smirked.

“Oh?”

“That’s right. Queen Astra suggested we stay to watch the gobbowl game taking place tomorrow. Apparently, it’s a huge deal around here.”

Amalia wasn’t quite sure what to expect. “If you say so…”

...................................................................................................................

As they watched the Eliatrope King and Sadida’s eleventh doll dancing, both of them sporting blinding smiles on their faces as they swayed to the music and King Yugo twirled Amalia around, her skirt and shawl fluttering behind her with every step, Prince Armand couldn’t help but raise a curious eyebrow at the display. He turned to his father.

“Do you really believe there’s nothing going on between them—?”

“Not even for a second, son.”

.............................................................................................................

“Oh, sweet Sadida!” Amalia exclaimed, completely awestruck. “And that last transfer?!”

“I know!” Yugo agreed, beside himself with excitement. “Man, that Kriss Krass fellow sure knows how to put on a show!”

Walking a few feet ahead of them, Adamaï couldn’t help but smile to himself as his brother and his precious flower bonded over gobbowl. Looking over his shoulder, he had to admit it was quite endearing to see how they discussed the match so animatedly, their hands clasped and their eyes glimmering as they recounted the moments that stood out the most to them.

Seeing them now after weeks of tense interactions, standing so close to each other and even hugging each other tightly whenever Kriss Krass’ team scored, was all he needed to feel reassured.

No matter what came next, they would be fine. It was only a matter of time before that thing going on between them blossomed into something more.

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