> There was something between them even then. Something profound, and strange, and utterly beyond my awareness. I saw it in the way they didn’t meet eyes, in the way they stood just that much further apart, and the way they seemed to be both comfortable and distinctly awkward around one another. I suspected, even then, that some line had been crossed—but I had no proof, and I trusted my daughter. Perhaps I was a fool. In the end, I can only say that he did what we wanted. Whether the cost was worth it… that is another discussion entirely.

Arthur stood in the House Leos hangar with his arms folded over his chest, and his body adorned in the black and red flight suit he’d been issued. His gaze was fixed upon the Hoplite he’d soon ride into battle. A whirlwind of emotions consumed him—confusion, anger, regret, concern—and even fleeting thoughts of hope that he struggled to suppress.

The last of which he was working to strangle into irrelevance.

His kiss with Circe atop the hill had been an overwhelming experience.

Comparing it to the warmth of the sun barely did it justice.

Every sensation lingered in his memory—the heat and softness of her skin beneath his hands, the delightful blend of honey, vanilla, and mint on her lips, the scent of her clean perspiration, and the way their bodies fit together so perfectly it obliterated all sense of reason.

Circe embodied everything he had ever wanted and desired in a partner. She possessed the qualities he had been raised, groomed, even bred to seek out. She was the ideal wife, companion, partner, and lover—rolled into a singular and lethal package.

Yet he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he couldn’t have her.

Even if he were to join the ranks of the Eupatridae, it was likely impossible. Rumors of their involvement prior to his allegiance would spark scandal upon scandal. He couldn't subject her to such scrutiny. It would devastate her, and undermine everything she had dedicated herself to achieving.

He couldn’t betray her that way.

Perhaps if his true identity as a Coreblood from Pendragon were revealed in an acceptable and controlled manner, it could potentially grant him the notoriety to quell any objections to their relationship.

He snorted quietly at the idea.

As if anything would stop Aristocrats gossiping.

Regardless, the present should not be influenced by a distant possibility in an uncertain future. The reality of their situation was that Circe Leos was not only the daughter of his soon-to-be liege-lord but also the heiress to House Leos. After their upcoming duel, in which Arthur hoped to secure a demonstrative victory, she would become his liege-lady by virtue of her lineage.

Arthur sighed in resignation, and reflected on the events that led them to this point.

Throughout his time on Albion, Arthur had always relied on resonance as a valuable tool. He remembered that well, and with great clarity. More than most of his memories, its benefits in combat were etched into his memory with remarkable clarity. He could predict, preempt, and counter his opponents with deadly precision. He remembered how it had felt to wield the power, and the brutal efficacy with which he’d done so.

When facing his siblings and cousins, he’d wielded resonance with lethal efficiency, always in control and capable of restraining himself when necessary—or acting with cold and brutal rationality.

But with Circe, something was different.

He pondered if it had to do with her psion density, their undeniable attraction, or perhaps the suspicious—very suspicious, in fact—strength of their resonance. It felt as though their conscious minds had intertwined on the Hilltop, leading to a profound understanding he had never experienced before. He had known her. Felt her. Understood her in a way he had never experienced with anyone before.

Even in his own mind, armed with the recollections, it was difficult to conceptualize.

It was like Circe and he had joined their souls together at that moment.

Their connection surpassed mere sexual chemistry and desire.

It was raw, spiritual, and inexplicably profound. Arthur struggled to find the right words to describe the intensity of their bond. Fighting their need for each other was as futile as opposing Apollo's gravitational pull on Hellas.

Neither compulsion nor a loss of agency drove them; they simply couldn't deny their mutual longing. The reasons for their agreement not to pursue their feelings, which Arthur knew made sense in the broader scope, seemed hollow and foolish in the face of their undeniable connection.

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Society dictated it was scandalous for them to love one another, so they couldn’t.

Resonance had not cared about the vapid puritanical reservations of society.

Through it, neither had Arthur and Circe.

It was a sad inevitability of their proximity as well, he knew. They had spent the better part of each cycle together, which amounted to something approaching 40 hours of near-constant proximity each day, and each night, with only 8 hours of time spent apart per cycle. Across a full day cycle and night cycle—or a ‘full rotation’ as the Hellenic definition went—which was 96 hours in total, that equated to 80 hours together on average.

Multiplied by seven.

They had spent countless hours together, their proximity exceeding what most humans experienced with their eventual life partners. Their bond ran deep, powerful, and significant. He knew what made her laugh, what made her frown, what buoyed her and what upset her. He knew her hopes, her fears, her longings, her wishes—and even with all of that, there remained a mystery and allure he could never quite put into words.

In turn, she knew him better than anyone he believed ever would. Even with the obfuscation of his origins, and the evasion of his true birthplace; Circe had broken through his cold outer shell. She had found a way beyond it, and nestled herself against his heart like a warm blanket on a cold winter’s eve. She had claimed his love for her own, and he knew it as surely as he knew he needed air to live.

And still. Still. He knew it had to be ignored.

Not just for propriety, or society, or honor.

But because if it wasn’t, it would threaten them all.

Allowing their relationship to bloom from the bud it currently was would endanger them all. If rumors spread that House Leos' powerful new Hetairoi—Arthur was not so falsely humble as to deny his own power—was involved with the heiress, it would not be viewed as two people falling in love due to time, proximity, and an invariably powerful connection.

It would be viewed as Circe whoring herself to acquire a weapon.

It would be believed that the Lion Maiden was cheap, and had sold her virtue.

Therefore, as much as it pained him and despite the hurt it would cause Circe, Arthur had to take a clear stance. He had to suppress their shared desires, burying them deep behind neutronium walls of discipline and control. Above all, he had to convince Circe that her feelings were not reciprocated. More, that they weren’t even real.

His strength was crucial, not because Circe was weak, but because he was.

If he failed to do what had to be done, all of Graecia would see his love for her.

Arthur intimately understood Circe Leos—her tenacity, her unyielding pursuit when she desired something, and her flagrant dismissal of all and everything that dared to stand in her way. She was uncompromising and invariably strong-willed when she wished for something, and would move mountains to claim it.

She was a true daughter of kings, relentless and unstoppable.

It was precisely that indomitable spirit which drew him to her.

So Arthur did what he knew he had to do. He did what he had worked against since his first arrival on Asfalís, and throughout the days, and nights, and countless hundreds of hours that had followed across seven rotations of the superhabitable homeworld of the Ascendancy.

Arthur turned to his memories of Zacaris, closed his eyes, and let them in.

He let in the pain, the rage, the ruthlessness, and the cold calculation.

He wielded his former self like a forge, and armored his heart in reason.

He tempered it in necessity, ambition, and relentless focus.

Arthur felt something within himself stir. An aspect of who he had been, of the warrior he had become in his past life, and the implacable lethality within which he’d exalted flickered momentarily. Some quiet, still-subdued key part of himself seemed to tremble as if nearing the edge of awakening—and then vanished before he could latch onto it.

It was a whisper of hidden knowledge, a phantom of lost capability.

Opening his eyes, Arthur fixed his gaze upon the Eidolon, and a profound sense of self-control washed over him. His time in Pendragon had instilled in him the art of self-discipline, and for all that his time as Arthur Zacaris was still largely unacceptable to him insofar as his past self’s moral and ethical bankruptcy went, he could not deny the advantages of his previously honed focus and cold pragmatism.

His attention shifted from the Hoplite to the helmet mag-locked to his right thigh. He contemplated it for a moment, considering the idea of wearing a flight suit for his duel with Circe. It seemed amusing, yet technically appropriate. In space it made more sense, but in the atmosphere the suit's functions would be of limited use.

His Hoplite couldn’t even fly. It was a training unit, after all.

A training unit he’d be taking up against one of the best machines in the Ascendancy.

“Well if I win this, I suppose that’s one way for them to know my worth.” he said to himself in amusement.

“Talking to yourself, Arthur? You really are nervous.”

Arthur blinked and turned at the sound of Circe’s voice, and saw her walking toward him from the pilot’s lockers and briefing room behind him. Despite his newfound discipline, he couldn’t help but take in how she looked in her flight suit—white with highlights of both light and dark pink—while she walked.

It fit her like a glove, and with a body like Circe’s, that was a weapon unto itself.

“My eyes are up here, Magellan.” She said in a tone that was, for all its intended reprimand, filled with a poorly veiled heat and subtle approval all its own.

She stopped very close to him, in fact, and looked up to meet his eyes.

“Are you ready for me?” She asked in a tone that set his heart racing.