Spring Month: 2 
Night 
Clear Moon: 
Kyyre’s heart raced, each beat thudding in his chest as the conversation swirled around him. Leon’s easy grin and casual words were an unsettling contrast to the heaviness of the moment, and Kyyre couldn’t help but feel the weight of their implications. His nerves were stretched thin, every word from Leon seeming to slice through his fragile composure. The mention of luck, the trials—they were all a reminder of what was at stake, of the political games they were all forced to play, and the risks of failure that loomed large over them all.
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He wanted to look away, to hide behind the curve of the table or the shadows of the courtyard, but the eyes of the others felt like an inescapable force. Leon’s glance, casual yet somehow intense, lingered on him a moment longer than necessary, and Kyyre’s stomach twisted. There was something in the way Leon had addressed him—something playful and teasing, yet far too calculated for Kyyre’s liking. His fingers tightened around the plate he hadn’t realized he was still holding, a small comfort amidst the storm of his anxiety.
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The atmosphere thickened with every word, with every movement. Andromeda’s speech, cool and controlled, only deepened the rift. Marmoor’s heir. A woman who carried her own dangerous allure, and who Kyyre had already learned to fear, even before hearing the rumors surrounding her. He knew she wasn’t someone to be trifled with, but the look in her eyes—the way she observed them with that almost predatory calm—was enough to send a chill down his spine.
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Despite her polite smile, the undertones of her words weighed heavily. She was here, in this moment, to test them all. To size them up. And just as quickly, she was gone from his thoughts as his attention flickered back to Astrid. The silence between them spoke volumes. Kyyre’s gaze slid sideways, hoping for something to anchor him, but all he found was the sharp edge of Astrid’s focus, fixed entirely on Andromeda. There was no warmth in Astrid’s silence—only a cold, suffocating air that seemed to freeze everything around them.
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Kyyre’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes flicking between the three of them. Andromeda, unbothered by the tension, seemed perfectly at ease, like she was playing a game with rules that Kyyre could never quite understand. Leon’s grin was an odd comfort, despite everything, but it was clear he was reveling in the spectacle of it all, unconcerned with the growing hostility in the air. Kyyre’s skin crawled as he realized how exposed he was, how small he felt in this strange web of politics, power, and intrigue.
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Leon’s words cut through his spiraling thoughts, drawing his attention back to him with an odd sense of focus. “Watch out for this one,” Leon teased, his grin returning to its playful form as his eyes shifted between Kyyre and Andromeda. “She’s a wild card, really. Hidden beneath all this frou-frou rubbish.” The wink that followed was sharp, almost playful, and Kyyre’s face immediately flushed with embarrassment. His heart stuttered in his chest, caught between the unexpected, unsettling sensation of being seen by Leon and the growing weight of the situation around them.
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Kyyre barely heard Andromeda’s well-wishes as she spoke. The words were polite, empty in his ears as his focus lingered on the overwhelming presence of everyone around him. The sound of the surrounding gathered murmuring in the air and the faint music was drowned out by the thundering of his pulse. He wanted to say something, anything, to make the moment feel less like a suffocating storm of eyes and expectations. But his voice faltered, caught in his throat as he realized how out of his depth he truly was. This wasn’t the world he knew—it was a world of masks and games, of subtle manipulations and veiled threats.
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He tried to shift his weight, his eyes darting nervously between the two men. Leon was still grinning, unfazed by the tension that thickened around them. Kyyre’s gaze lingered on the way the man moved—relaxed, confident in a way that seemed so at odds with the turmoil churning inside Kyyre. How did Leon remain so… unbothered? Was he even truly aware of the storm brewing between Astrid and Andromeda?
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Kyyre’s gaze snapped to Astrid, who had not yet broken his stare from Andromeda. Kyyre’s heart clenched as he noticed the flicker of cold hatred in Astrid’s eyes. It was a look he had seen before, and it was a look that chilled him to his core. Astrid wasn’t just tense; he was preparing for something. Kyyre didn’t know what, but the anger in him was a physical presence, a tempest that only needed the right push to break free. He felt the oppressive weight of it—the pressure building in the air, making everything feel heavier, more dangerous.
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His grip tightened on his plate, knuckles white, as he leaned closer to Astrid, his voice barely above a whisper. “Astrid… should we leave? I… I don’t think I can handle this.” His words cracked with anxiety, his nerves jangling under the weight of it all. Andromeda’s presence was suffocating, but it was the look in Astrid’s eyes—the fire that burned there—that truly terrified him.
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But Astrid didn’t answer immediately. He only stood firm, his silence speaking louder than any words could. The air around him seemed to grow colder, more forbidding, and Kyyre wondered if he was imagining it, or if Astrid was really doing something. Kyyre could feel the strain in every muscle, the unspoken battle that was unfolding just beneath the surface. He could almost taste it—the coming conflict, the inevitable clash between two forces that would not bend.
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Kyyre shifted again, his anxiety growing with each passing second. He couldn’t breathe in this space. He couldn’t keep up with the masked threats, the hidden agendas, the careful games. He didn’t belong here—he knew that deep down. His thoughts were banking, his mind racing as the growing tension suffocated him further. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to survive this?
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But no answer came just yet. Only the sound of his heartbeat in his ears.
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And then, finally, Astrid spoke.
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His voice was cool, almost casual, but there was a sharp edge to every syllable. He didn’t look at Kyyre, didn’t even acknowledge him, his focus entirely fixed on Andromeda as he tore through the silence with his words.
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“Well, well, if it isn’t the ‘delicate’ and ‘refined’ heir of Marmoor,” Astrid’s voice was thick with sarcasm, dripping with disdain. His gaze flickered over Andromeda, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in her painted lips, the soft lines of her face, the false elegance she wore like armor. “I must say, Andromeda, your ability to hide your true nature under layers of makeup and pretty words is… impressive.”
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Kyyre flinched at the venom in Astrid’s tone, and Asteria lifted her head with discomfort. The air between them seemed to crackle, charged with the kind of hostility that often could only come from years of bitterness and rivalry that wasn't even there in the first place.
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“Of course, you’re not fooling anyone,” Astrid continued, his words cutting through the void with surgical precision. “You wear that smile, like it's a shield, but it’s all a facade. Behind that delicate little mask of yours, you’re nothing more than a viper. A dangerous one, sure, but a viper nonetheless. It's clear you don't have the brains to win on your own, so you rely on charm and manipulation to get ahead, because that's all you've ever been taught to do, isn’t it?”
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Every word was a blade, and Andromeda was the target. It was like watching a master at work, each line laced with a sharpness that was impossible to ignore.
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“You think your pretty little game of mind games and sweet words will get you through this, Andromeda?” Astrid sneered, his lips curling into a bitter smile. “You think you can fool everyone into thinking you’re more than just a puppet playing at diplomacy? Don’t make me laugh.”
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Astrid wasn’t finished, though. He leaned in slightly, his eyes cold as ice, locking onto hers.
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“Tell me,” he said, his voice low, a dangerous purr lacing through his words, “how long do you think your charm will last when it’s time to face the real trials? How long will that ‘frou-frou rubbish’ you’re hiding behind protect you then? Because once the curtain falls, and the real game begins, you won’t be able to hide behind your smile anymore.”
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The final words hung in the air, cold and cutting, and Kyyre could feel the weight of them settling in his chest. For a moment, there was absolute silence. Astrid’s eyes burned with the intensity of his words, and Kyyre found himself holding his breath, waiting for the inevitable fallout.