The goddess of beauty and music didn’t spend all of her time in The Mortal Realm. Just most of it. After all, why would she ever leave when everything she loved and needed was right here, singing and dancing through the streets?

“Sisi, come on! Over here, hurry, hurry!”

Lamollie was in a mood to run, and how could Sichor ever disappoint her?

It was a beautiful spring day in Freytide, and the eve of the Princess’ eighteenth birthday. The kingdom was in high spirits, Sichor moreso, because the love of her life was glowing with happiness and spilling songs from her hearts like offerings.

The goddess gratefully took them all.

At the top of the next ridge was where she and the Princess spent the morning, gazing out at the horizon in partial silence, until Lamollie saw something which caught her eye and she eagerly pointed it out.

After six months, Sichor had spent a lot of time getting to know every one of the girl’s odd habits and quirks, including; rambling, humming, and getting her dresses torn in her frantic race to catch a glimpse of the sunset. Sichor continuously found the Princess to be beautiful, even when she fell.

Because she knew the girl so well and shared such a close friendship to the point where they spoke about all things; life, death, romance, music, and everything in between, Sichor immediately knew that when Lamollie didn’t gasp and gesture excitedly at the hawk that was swooping low overhead, something was wrong.

“Are you okay?” She asked.

The Princess smiled, but it seemed more faraway than usual. Lamollie gently reached over and took the goddess’ hand with a sigh, lacing their fingers together as she has done many times. Sichor blinked to refocus and then opened her heart as the Princess began to speak.

“My birthday is in two days,”

“Yes.”

Lamollie pouted, “I will be of age.”

“...yes.”

The Princess scoffed, turning to her with a curious but long-suffering smile, one Sichor saw often and cherished alongside the others.

“Father is finally able to marry me off without mother interfering…”

Sichor squeezed Lamollie’s hand and her jaw tightened.

Never before had the goddess wanted to interfere in the lives of the mortals, and she’d never had the desire to kill them either, but ever since hearing from Lamollie about the King’s desire to send her away as a bride for the “betterment” of the kingdom, Sichor has wanted to do ugly things to the man. And all potential suitors.

Blessed by beauty since she was born, Lamollie has been fighting off unwanted attention from the male species for a long time. Far too long. Eventually, she just started telling them she was engaged and that usually put an end to things.

This was the lie that she had told Sichor that day… a lie that the goddess was very happy, wasn’t true. Unfortunately, if Lamollie’s father had his way, it seemed like it wouldn’t be long before the Princess was wed.

Hmh. Not if Sichor has anything to say about it!

Lamollie tugged on her hand and the goddess looked over. She never got tired of looking at the young woman, and didn’t think she ever would. She was the only human whose soul shone through, whose beauty traveled with her like a shadow, or a ray of light, and Sichor knew she was the only person she would ever love. Protecting Lamollie and keeping her happy was all that mattered. Sichor would make sure no unworthy hands touched her, and she would continue to work to make her own hands worthy too.

The Princess turned eighteen and while Sichor waited for the news that her father had plans to betrothe her to some fool, she and Lamollie continued to meet. In the forest, the hills, the village, and the palace. Nowhere that they went mattered to Sichor, as she beheld Lamollie’s beauty and kindness everywhere, always.

Sichor was at one of the taverns in the lower town one day, waiting for Lamollie to join her with a bouquet of flowers in hand. The goddess normally didn’t like to pick them, preferring that their beauty remain as long as possible, but she couldn’t help herself today. The desire to see the smile light up Lamollie’s face when she saw them was too strong.

Except, that day the Princess never came.

Sichor waited a longtime, before finally leaving to wander the town in search of the wayward girl. It wasn’t often Lamollie got sidetracked, but it had happened once or twice and she always hugged Sichor and apologized profusely…

Eventually, the goddess was in an area closer to the palace when she heard Lamollie’s familiar laugh. Her heart lifted, and she turned toward the sound, but what she saw was something strange. The Princess, talking animatedly with someone, putting her hand on their shoulder, grinning and shaking her head. Sichor was used to this treatment, but she was used to Lamollie doing these things with her. Yes, the Princess was friendly toward most everybody, but this was strange… Lamollie was talking to a man-

A boy, Sichor scoffed in her mind, and was about to trudge over there and place herself by the Princess’ side where she belonged. She froze suddenly as she watched the girl lean up on her toes and give the boy a quick peck on the cheek.

The goddess’ feet couldn’t decide where to take her, so she just stood there, watching awkwardly as the two kept chatting and Lamollie consistently reached out and touched the young man; his arm, shoulder…

It’s fine, Sichor told herself. She is touchy. But… she couldn’t help but complain in her head; why isn’t she touching me?

After a few more minutes, the Princess’ gaze wandered and happened to fall upon her. Sichor looked away, and was about to vanish into the crowd in embarrassment, when Lamollie called her name and waved her over with a big grin.

The goddess could not disobey.

She stood before the two of them rigidly and did not under any circumstances pretend to be friendly, even if Lamollie was hanging off her arm and talking at length about what good friends they were.

“-sorry, I lost track of time!” The Princess pleaded for her forgiveness like she expected, and then gestured at the boy.

“I ran into an old friend! Sisi, this is Khepri, his mother used to work in the palace when we were kids. We were just catching up and I must not have even noticed how late it was. Can you forgive me? Please?”

“Mn.”

Lamollie smiled, “Thank you. Oh, Khep, didn’t you say you were just in town for the week? Shouldn’t we all go eat together and talk some more?”

Sichor glared at the boy, who was about Lamollie’s age and looked to her like a loaf of bread on two knobby sticks, but her glare softened somewhat when she saw the sweetness in his eyes when he looked at the Princess. Sichor imagined she must look like that too. She hoped she did.

“No, sorry.” He smiled sheepishly, “I have to drop off my work at the blacksmiths. But I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? You still go to the peak to see the sunrise?”

Lamollie nodded and smiled, “Of course! We will see you then, Khep. Oh-”

The Princess felt Sichor pulling her away and she laughed, waving back over her shoulder as they scampered;

“Goodbye!”

Sichor didn’t know where they were going, she just wanted to go away. Lamollie followed her all the way back to the lower town again, but pulled her to a stop outside a bakery. They stood in the shade of a pear tree and the Princess let go of her hand. The goddess mourned.

“Are you mad? You look mad.” Lamollie bit her lip, “Don’t be. I really didn’t mean to be late, we just started talking, and… if you think I can talk, just wait ‘till you hear Khepri get started, I-”

Those brown eyes fixed on hers and Sichor had to work hard to take care of the frown she was most-likely wearing and replace it with something more neutral. She swallowed, fighting for control over her words, to ask the question she was dreading the answer to.

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“Is he the one you love?”

Lamollie’s eyes widened and she stammered;

“W-What? When did I-”

“The time you cried.” Sichor said, “Like how I did. You said you cried once, and you wanted someone to tell you everything was okay. Was it him? Because you love him?”

The Princess was looking away from her now, but a faint blush colored her cheeks. Sichor loved seeing it, but she hated why it was there.

“A long time ago…” Lamollie whispered, “Yes. It was him, but not anymore. It’s been so long, I was shocked he even remembered me.”

“No one could ever forget you.” Sichor said.

The Princess looked up at her with sparkling eyes and then she smiled gratefully and hugged the goddess. They fit together perfectly, Sichor just a little taller so she could put her chin over the other girl’s head and hold her close. She savored everything the Princess gave her, every little shred of her love and care. Sichor was unhappy that Lamollie’s love might be diverted and given to someone else, but truly, she was unable to be upset with the girl when all she had done was be honest and sweet in every way.

He might be someone she loved once, but I am special to her too… Lamollie would never choose between us, and I would never ask her to.

The idea of taking anything away from her that she loved, that brought a smile to her face, was abhorrent. Sichor would do anything to keep that smile alive. And, so she did. She sat on the ridge with Lamollie and the boy she used to love, and listened to them talk, and tried not to stare directly at the sun.

She had a meal with them, and tea with the Princess later in the week, who admitted with false innocence that Khepri had decided to stay in town a while longer.

“He found a job at the forge…” Lamollie sipped her tea and avoided her gaze.

Later on, Sichor was in the Princess’ bedroom for the first time in weeks, invited in with an absurdly sneaky grin, as it was far past her time to be asleep. They sat on the bed, and Sichor couldn’t help but smile at the Princess’ boundless energy. She was practically vibrating with excitement as she blurted out;

“He kissed me!”

Sichor waited patiently for the girl to explain.

Lamollie squeezed a pillow to death as she pranced around the room and hopped on and off the bed, divulging a tale of great romance and courage about how Khepri had taken her to the ridge earlier that evening, and after talking about the old days, had taken her in his arms under the full moon and kissed her.

The Princess was a superb storyteller. The goddess had chills.

“-and then, he did this thing where… Sisi, did you know that people sometimes kiss with their mouths open?”

Sichor had chills for all the wrong reasons.

“...I was aware.”

“Oh, yeah. He did that. It was amazing, I felt like I was flying! I think… I think maybe I want to do more, be more to him, you know? Like, maybe I never fell out of love with him or something.”

Sichor was silent, proud that she didn’t cry as her heart was broken.

Lamollie had collapsed on the bed beside her and was playing with a strand of Sichor’s hair as she hummed a pleasant tune. It wasn’t one the goddess had heard her sing before.

“Sisi?”

“Hm?”

The Princess turned to her, a serious expression on her face suddenly.

“I’m going to run away with him.”

Silence. Nothing but the wind outside the Princess’ bedroom windows and the sound of their hearts beating at different speeds.

Lamollie tugged at her hair and smiled cutely.

“You have to help me, okay? Otherwise I can’t do it.”

Sichor stared at her, at everything she ever loved or needed. She nodded.

Her Princess smiled.

Their plan was fairly straightforward. Sichor got the gist of her conversation with Khepri and from what Lamollie told her, they had done a lot more than confess their love in the past few weeks. A lot more.

Sichor felt as if she was following the Princess like a kicked dog, clinging to her hand even after she’d let go, and begging for the scraps of a love that was never hers to keep. Was it her fault, when she hadn’t known she was only holding onto that love for safekeeping?

Still, the goddess did as she was asked. She helped Lamollie escape the confines of the palace, of her father’s weaponization of her marriage. Sichor and Khepri traveled to a town a few days away in the middle of nowhere, and Sichor intimidated the landlord of a small cabin until he lowered the price. Khepri paid with everything he had.

Sichor helped the Princess pack what they would need, and she went with her to the peak one more time to say goodbye to the view. Sichor helped her sneak away in the dead of night, and led the night guards away when they got too close. The couple met in the woods and Sichor held her breath as she watched the way Lamollie ran into Khepri’s arms and he spun her, both of them laughing in relief.

“It’s over, we’re free!” The Princess said, shining in the dark.

Khepri tucked a lock of hair behind Lamollie’s ear and smiled at her the way Sichor wishes she still could.

“We couldn’t have done this without you,”

The goddess blinked. The boy was speaking to her.

“Thank you.”

Sichor stared at the two of them, thinking that they looked incredibly beautiful together. Lamollie fit right in his arms, and he held her tightly but with a gentleness than the goddess was grateful for.

Still, that didn’t mean she didn’t long to rip the Princess from his grasp and take her far, far away…

Sichor had once had a hall full of paintings, and a carefully crafted music room that was perfectly ordered. She was obsessed with tending to her belongings, and sometimes felt overwhelmed by the amount of music and art she would never be able to consume with its creation being so unending.

She hadn’t meant for Lamollie to be the thing that made all other beauty pointless. She hadn’t meant to deprive her, or steal her away from what made her happy… what gave her that enchanting glow.

Sichor could not put the Princess behind a glass case, or a picture frame, and look at her, or sing with her when she felt like it. Hers was a beauty that she could not own, could not keep, and that made it all the more precious.

The goddess wanted her, she needed her, she loved her more than life. But she could not pull her away from the person she loved, anymore than she could make the Princess love her instead.

Sichor let her go.

Lamollie hugged her before they went and kissed her on the cheek. Sichor felt it soak into her skin like a brand, like she would always wear it from now on. She reached up to the Princess’ cheek and watched the smile spread across Lamollie’s face for the last time as the girl went to her lover, and they both walked away.

The goddess returned to The Heavenly Realm that very night, locking herself in her room without even a word to her brother. She stared at the ceiling and thought about humming one of Lamollie’s songs, but she would always feel a knot rise in her throat before she could try.

Sichor watched the snow falling outside her window and remembered the way the Princess’ hair used to tickle her nose when they hugged… the scent of her skin, the curve of her lips.

Lamollie had the softest tawny hair. It hung in a long braid over her shoulder, or in loose waves around her face. Her brown eyes were deep but warm, turning into amber pools in the sunlight. There was beauty and music in every breath she took, and every smile she blessed the world with, and as Sichor lay there, she realized that her own love meant nothing compared to the brilliance of Lamollie’s.

Because her brother meant well, he sent for the god of love to come speak with her. Sichor came out of her room to have tea with the man, only because she was tired of the view from her bed and felt guilty over making her brother concerned. Again.

Kulao was somewhat of a menace in Sichor’s mind, a collector of gossip and other people’s broken hearts, but she listened to him talk so that she could tell her brother she did. Metir was so happy to see her walk through her art gallery that it almost made that suckup’s speech on grief worth it.

Kulao didn’t know grief. He had never been in love. Sichor knew grief, in fact, she felt she had quite an intimate relationship with it. Grief knew her down to her bones, inside and out, insane and enamored. Grief was hers, to keep behind a frame and look at when she felt like it.

Sichor was in her brother’s study one day, many years later, and she was in the mood to help him organize, as he could be very haphazard with his work…

She knew exactly how he wanted everything, so she straightened and tidied his desk, dusted the shelves, and put things to right where they were askew. It had always calmed her down, things being in their place.

It was probably only because of that that she found it; the envelope tucked inside a book, hidden behind a stack of encyclopedias. It must have fallen or been misplaced, she thought. Sichor opened the book, finding it was a compendium of history and culture of the frigid northwest of the human realm. In the index she was able to find a list of characteristics of the land, including the towns and kingdoms that have arisen in that area. Now, there was some small town called Keepenvel where Freytide used to be. Sichor searches the list and finds the old kingdom though, fingers shaking as she flips to that page.

Her brother had written about the government, cultural events, flora and fauna, the climate, anything and everything except the Princess. When Sichor was finally getting fed up reading about the mating habits of the crested bark finch, she turned the page to discover that the last ones had been ripped out.

She frowned. That was very unlike her brother. He was a bit disorganized, but not clumsy or lazy. He did his job well, and would have noticed something like this and fixed it, afterall, he couldn’t call himself the god of history if some of it was missing…

That was when Sichor glanced down at the envelope which had been stuffed inside the book. It wasn’t sealed so she opened it, and sure enough, found the missing pages. As she read, Sichor came to understand exactly why her brother had removed them.

Lamollie had been free from her kingdom for only a short time before her father had sent men out to look for her. They told the world that the Princess had died in a tragic accident. Her people mourned her kindness and her songs, but in truth, she was found a few towns over in the little cabin with Khepri… and their daughter.

The pages don’t go into detail, but Sichor understands. Betrayed and abandoned by what he saw only as a means to expand his territory, the King had his daughter killed for running away. The boy, a tradesman, was killed too, for stealing her. They were killed in their home, under cover of night, in the silence between midnight and dawn and before the sun had risen.

The child was killed too.

Sichor puts the pages back in the envelope, closes the book, and sets it on the shelf in the exact same place she had found it. She walks down the hall of paintings, into her music room, and sits before her favorite instrument; a white jade piano that never needed to be tuned. It was pristine. It was perfect. She played the songs Lamollie used to sing. Sichor had them memorized by heart.

There would never be another song that mattered more. The goddess wrote the notes down, the lyrics, and she played until her fingers bled. For a very long time, forever, actually, the only proof she had been in love would be this song.

The goddess played it once, and then never again.