“Wait, what?” Ayelma asked, “You didn’t tell us this story!”

“I’d planned to when you were both a little older,” Eweylona soothed, “You see, I am a princess of the Yudha Kingdom – the thirteenth princess, to be exact.”

“That’s a lot of princesses,” Ayelma snorted.

“Indeed,” her mother chuckled, “Which was why I was sent to the Eleamera Temple at a young age to train as a priestess,” she sighed wistfully, “Ah, I loved it there – I was very looking forward to serving Eleamera as an adult.”

“So what happened?” Meir’ril asked.

“As acolytes, we live in a secluded part of the temple with very little interaction with the outside world,” Eweylona explained, “Though the same could be said for princesses – and both debut during a grand feast to the goddess as adults. When my parents – and the world – saw how beautiful I’d become, they insisted I needed to wed to secure them a political alliance instead of remaining as a priestess.

“Naturally, I sabotaged their every attempt to match me with a suitor,” Eweylona snorted, “And by rescinding their offer of a royal priestess, my parents drew the ire of the priestesshood – and Eleamera presides over weddings in the Western Tundra. Still, there were plenty of deities they had not annoyed the followers of that did the same – and as a princess, the priesthood could not initiate me as a temple priestess without my parents’ consent.”

Ayelma scoffed, “Why not?”

“The temple does not have such standing,” Eweylona sighed, “And my parents made a sufficient offering to appease Eleamera herself for their actions.”

“Is a royal priestess different from a regular one?” Braelin asked, “You seemed specific about that.”

“It is,” Eweylona chuckled, “Royals are those descended from the gods – with lineages of great heroes. When we enter the service of a deity, we are blessed doubly for giving back to them as our ancestors. Which makes royal priests and priestesses more powerful than our non-royal counterparts.”

“So, even though the temple couldn’t initiate you, they could still refuse to hold a marriage ceremony because they were pissed off?” Ayelma asked.

“Indeed,” her mother replied, “Though soon my parents tired of my obstinance and decided to send me to what they viewed as a backwater human country. They thought I would beg to come back after being deprived the plentiful artefacts of the Elven Realm – as though I did not grow up without most of them as an acolyte.”

“I had wondered, when you arrived, what the cause was,” Ebener chuckled, “When I found out it was a punishment, it made much more sense.”

“A failed one,” Eweylona purred, kissing her husband’s temple, “But yes. I’d had half a mind to seduce you to take over the kingdom for myself from the start – after all, my parents wanted me to marry a royal. It would be exactly what they’d asked of me.

“But as soon as I stepped out of the carriage,” Eweylona chuckled, “This little prince came running up to yell at me about my frost aura killing the plants.”

Everyone chuckled, well able to guess who she meant.

“It was,” Malson defended – likely speaking softly as Henes had also fallen asleep along with Amancia.

Jaevve chuckled as she dislodged the child, holding fos against her side, “Oh, I’m sure it was.”

Henes grumbled a little as fos wrapped fos arms around Jaevve, resettling.

“Yes, but what truly changed my mind,” Eweylona chuckled, rubbing her cheek against her husband’s, “Was how Ebener apologized for Malson’s behavior before agreeing with him.”

“It was the wrong way to address it,” Ebener smiled, “But it was right to defend the work of the castle gardeners.”

Owren huffed, “Boy wasn’t even old enough to be a gardener yet…”

Braelin chuckled, “I still cared about the plants.”

“Indeed,” Eweylona agreed, “And the rest is as you know – I fell in love with Ebener and his boys, so I wed him and adopted them. It wasn’t until after the twins were born that my parents even found out it had happened – they sent my brother to fetch me. They were very disappointed it would be impossible.”

“Because the priestesshood married you,” Ayelma grinned, “And it’s magically binding, right?”

“That’s right,” Eweylona agreed, “As was my adoption of Malson and Braelin. They comforted themselves in the knowledge that my marriage would only last a human lifetime… or so they thought.”

“I guess it makes sense that we’ve only met Uncle Wau’e, then,” Meir’ril chuckled, “And why he didn’t seem very happy to visit…”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“He was the one your grandparents sent to fetch me,” Eweylona agreed, “And the third prince – his little visit was to see if I’d changed my mind after the first time. They might send him out here to check again after the Hundred Years Ball.”

“Ah,” Jurao nodded, “King Washai’ach and Queen Aulau. I recall seeing them at the last Ball, though we did not speak.”

“Indeed,” Eweylona chuckled, “I doubt they’d see a point in forging diplomatic ties to the Demon Realm, with the difficulty of maintaining them and the issues that would arise with the Empire.”

“Speaking of balls,” Jaevve chuckled, “The Golden Sun Feast is coming up.”

“Yes,” Jurao cleared his throat, turning to his partner, “Hujur has scheduled dance lessons for us – he believes it is time we went to our first formal event as a couple.”

Braelin sighed, “I suppose it has been some time since we started attending informal ones…”

“I plan on hosting my own,” Jaevve looked down at her napping children, “After feast activity, as a Petty Princess. Were you planning to host the royal one, your highness?”

Jurao hummed, “I wanted to discuss with Braelin first before deciding.”

Jaevve laughed, “Yeah, probably better to decide that way!”

“After feast activity?” Malson asked.

“You’ll love it, raindrop, I’ll tell you later,” she replied, leaning down to kiss the crown of his head, “I was already planning on inviting Goyl and his friends – probably that Guard Captain, too.”

“… oh, right,” Meir’ril started, then blushed, “Right…”

“What?” Ayelma demanded, “What do you mean?”

“Um, it’s,” Meir’ril held up his hands, not meeting his sister’s gaze, “I just, uh, remembered reading about the Golden Sun Feast, is all.”

“So?” Ayelma huffed, “What’s it about?”

“Um, well,” Meir’ril cleared his throat, looking at the demons around him for help.

Milve sighed, “It’s a feast in honor of our Deity of Kings, Maenscul, the Sun Deity. It is to thank them for their warmth during the warm dry season – though that is only fully experienced in the Great Western Plains. It is also to celebrate them in general as our creator deity.”

“So what about the after-feast activities everyone is being so hush-hush about?” Ayelma asked.

Milve looked to Jaevve.

Jaevve chuckled and picked up Amancia before standing, “I should probably head back to get more settled in anyway – hope the education is fun.”

The Senior Priest waited until she was further away before stating, “As Maenscul is also the deity of sex, after the feast is an orgy.”

“A what!?” Ayelma grinned, looking positively scandalized.

Meir’ril just chuckled nervously again.

“Oh, my,” Eweylona chuckled.

“Makes sense!” Malson shrugged, back to his regular volume with the sleeping children away.

“Of course, it is not as though everyone attending the feast then joins the same orgy,” Milve went on, “As Lady Jaevve was alluding – naturally, one would not want to be at the same event as a family member or someone they disliked.”

“Naturally,” Beneford snorted.

“Attendance at all is optional, by the way,” Nevve added, “I’m very picky about partners, so I rarely attend that part.”

“Well,” Meir’ril stood abruptly, “Since I already read about it, I don’t really need an explanation – so, um… yeah.”

Malson snorted as he got to his feet with a stretch, “I’ll get the other details from Jaevve! I should help her unpack, anyway! See you later!”

“I’m going to ask Demarri,” Ayelma declared, getting to her feet as well, “I mean, asking Gaele would be fun, but fos would probably be too nervous to explain!”

“Probably,” Braelin agreed, also standing. He was blushing himself as he turned to Jurao, “Should we discuss it in your office?”

“Hm,” Jurao wondered, sure Milve could offer a better explanation than he.

“Humans don’t usually discuss shit like orgy etiquette with their parents and siblings, brat,” Nevve snorted, waving them off with one hand, “Let us old folks handle the old folks – you and Mr. Planthead go on.”

“Oh,” Jurao said, getting to his feet, “I see. Then, yes, we can discuss it there.”

Jurao felt his tail swaying as they bid the others goodbye and headed towards his office – in truth, he did not know much about orgy etiquette himself, as he did not usually attend. He considered calling for Feyl, but Imena was already in his reception room by the time they arrived.

“Oh, etiquette and guidelines for the Golden Sun Feast?” Imena grinned, following them into the office at Jurao’s behest, “I can absolutely explain!”

“Since I have never attended,” Jurao explained, taking a seat before the hearth, “I am only aware of the most basic level.”

Imena nodded sagely, grinning, “Well, I’ve always attended since coming of age, so I’ll enlighten you!”

“Thank you, Imena,” Braelin said, taking his own seat.

“You’re welcome!” Imena nodded again, “Alright, so, the basics – orgies are usually hosted by royals and petty royals, though anyone can host them. The tradition derives from it being a fest to Maenscul, so having a royal host just kind of makes sense, you know?”

“It does make sense,” Braelin nodded.

“I mean, lots of higher ranking nobles host as well to make up the numbers,” fae stated, “But officially, there’s the Royal Orgy, hosted by the current King,” Imena shrugged, “If, you know, he wants to.”

Jurao looked to Braelin.

“I’ll listen to the full explanation before deciding,” his partner said.

Jurao nodded and looked back to his valet.

“Right, fair call,” Imena said, “Then Forvi and I will host our own as princelins – I think Morvvan will be back for the Feast, so she’ll host one too.”

“Jaevve was planning to host her own,” Jurao added, “Hujur usually hosts one as well.”

“Ah,” Braelin said, “I forget he’s also a Petty Prince.”

“It’s easy to forget with how he acts,” Imena snorted, “You’d think he was only a Middling Noble at best, with how mild-mannered he tends to be about stuff. Makes it funnier when he does pull rank on someone, though.”

“He does that?” Braelin asked.

“Mostly to get high-ranking nobles to do their paperwork the right way,” Imena sighed, “Morvvan thought it was hilarious – it’s why she made friends with him.”

“I can see that,” Braelin smiled.

Jurao recalled one such instance – back when he was an officer and Hujur only Assistant Department Head. He’d come to turn something into a superior and found Hujur standing imperiously over the superior’s desk, painstakingly going over each line of the paperwork in question. As the man had been notorious for thinking paperwork wasn’t a part of his job, Jurao had assumed – correctly, he later found – that this was the result of multiple ignored attempts at more diplomatic correction.

Still, even he had trouble reconciling Hujur’s usually wry but considerate manner with his unyielding royal commanding one.

“But anyway!” Imena said, “On to the actual etiquette part!”