“No, no, you idiot! Add a little bit more!” Noa’s shout echoed against the white walls, sounding more like a battlefield command than a culinary tip.
He stood with his jacket sleeves rolled up, pointing a finger at the massive iron pot that bubbled. His purple eyes, set against pitch-black sclera, narrowed as if he were calculating the trajectory of a spell rather than the salinity of a broth.
Beside him, Elina—the dragon whose very presence usually commanded a visceral fear—was currently reduced to a state of flustered agitation. Her hands hovered over a pile of exotic spices, her tail twitching in a rhythmic thump against the stone floor.
“Alright! Alright! Shut up!” she shouted back, her voice cracking under the strain of trying to balance draconic pride with the delicate art of seasoning.
“Bro, you know you aren’t supposed to make it solid... right?” Lina questioned, leaning in with a look of skepticism.
She watched the soup thickening into a substance that looked more like mortar for a castle wall than a meal.
While the three of them operated in a whirlwind of chaotic energy, the professional kitchen staff, the maids, and the head chefs stood paralyzed in the shadows.
One of their new rulers was here, dropping every title and pretense of royalty to bicker over a pot of vegetables like an ordinary sibling. And with him, a dragon was being scolded and badgered as if she were a clumsy apprentice.
“Am I… dreaming?” a cook from Aurelyth whispered, his voice trembling.
In his world, lords didn’t even acknowledge the existence of the kitchen staff, treating them as invisible gears in a machine of endless service.
“Just get used to it,” a cook from Crimvane replied, tapping his shoulder with a knowing smile. “After all… they are your rulers now.”
Then, Vionette emerged from the pantry, wearing a simple apron she had borrowed from the staff. It draped over her dark dress, creating a stark contrast of domesticity against regal elegance, while her snowy hair had been gathered into a high ponytail.
She stood there, a hand resting on her hip, leaning slightly to the side with a smirk. “All right! I’m ready!”
The kitchen fell into a new kind of silence as the petrified faces of the Eryndor and Aurelyth staff turned toward her.
“Her Majesty… too?”
“Lady Vionette, is it for Lord Noa?” a maid from Crimvane called out.
“Hey!” The Eryndor chef stared at the maid, his face paling. “What are you—”
“You bet it is! Why? Envious?” Vionette shot back with a radiant smile, cutting off the chef before he could lecture the maid on her manners.
“I mean…” The maid looked at Noa, then back to Vionette. “Kind of? I’m still single, you know.”
“Kind of… uhh… whatever.” Vionette let out a sigh, knowing the maid was only trying to tease her.
She turned her attention to the staff from Eryndor and Aurelyth, her expression hardening into a mild exasperation.
“And you guys! Stop calling me ‘Your Majesty’ this, ‘Your Majesty’ that. It’s making the food taste like paperwork from Seliora!”
As she issued the order, Mara closed in behind her like a silent, maternal shadow. Vionette didn’t even notice the approach until a firm hand landed on her shoulder.
“Okay people, that’s enough fun, get back to your tasks,” Mara directed. She looked at Vionette, her eyes softening into a maternal gaze. “You too, Vionette. Let’s get started.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Noa, who had been buried in the sensory overload of the soup-war with his sister and the dragon, suddenly froze. He spun around, his eyes widening as he saw Vionette standing there in an apron.
What the fuck is going on? Is she going to cook? And…
“…How did you come to call her ‘Mother’?” he asked, his voice sounding small amidst the clatter of pans.
“Why? I can’t?” Vionette countered, arching an eyebrow.
“No! You absolutely can! Go on!” Noa didn’t waste a heartbeat before turning back to the soup with renewed fervor.
…
Vionette took out the steak that had been resting at room temperature for fifteen minutes. She seasoned it with salt and pepper, her hands encased in disposable gloves, her movements surprisingly deliberate.
“Now, get the pan ready.” Mara watched the raw meat with a critical eye. “You know how to do it, right?”
“I know that much.” Infusing a thread of her Aether into the stove, Vionette ignited the flame. The butter hit the pan, immediately melting and frothing into a golden sizzle. “I must say, Eryndor’s technology really is much cleaner and easier.”
“Now, don’t touch it for about two to three minutes, or you’ll ruin the sear,” Mara warned, stepping to Vionette’s other side.
This is much more fun than I anticipated, Vionette thought, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
“You better not get that dress dirty,” Noa said from the side, his eyes still glued to the soup that he, Elina, and Lina had finally managed to stabilize.
Vionette, while adding a knob of butter, crushed garlic, and a sprig of rosemary to the pan, let out a knowing smirk.
“Why do you even worry? It’s from Nymira’s shop, so it can clean itself just with some Aether.” She tilted her head.
Then, Mara’s wooden spoon descended upon Vionette’s head with a sudden thud. “Focus!”
“Yes, ma’am!”
***
Noa walked through the capital city of Veylith, his gaze lingering on every corner, every alleyway, and every new structure that had risen like a dream from the dust. The city was breathing with new life, possessing a pulse that felt like the heartbeat of a kingdom reborn.
It had been six days since Vionette had announced the festival, and the gates of Veylith had been thrown wide. People from the Aurelyth archduchy, the Crimvane heartlands, and the surrounding Eryndor duchies had begun to pour in, arriving by the hundreds at the invitation of their rulers.
“Look at that, a stage for music,” Vionette said, walking beside Noa. Her hands were clasped behind her back, her posture graceful as she moved.
“That’s massive,” Noa agreed, tilting his head back to take in the sprawling wooden structure. “Probably meant for dancing too, if it’s that huge.”
Vionette gave him a playful side-eye. “Do you know what else is massive?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Noa replied, his gaze drifting up to the blue sky where the sun was beginning its slow, golden fade toward the horizon.
As they walked, the city provided a symphony of preparation. Musicians tuned their lutes, the strings humming with anticipation; fire performers practiced their routines, the flames licking the air; and street vendors tested their grills, sending plumes of savory smoke into the sky.
Paper lanterns, etched with intricate patterns and powered by glowing Aether, hung across the streets alongside the banners of Crimvane, making the coming night feel like a distant, beautiful memory.
…
On a hill that overlooked the entirety of Veylith—a vantage point where the glowing lights of the city looked like a fallen galaxy—Vionette sat on the grass. She took a graceful, feminine pose, her legs tucked to the side with her knees stacked neatly, her back supported by the gnarled trunk of the hill’s solitary tree.
Noa lay on the ground, his head resting on her thighs as he looked up. From his perspective, the world had narrowed to a very specific, utterly breathtaking view.
Crazy boob shot here.
“Hey,” Vionette started, tilting her head down to look at him, her face shifting into a deadpan expression. “Are you looking at my face or…”
“I was totally looking at your beautiful, graceful, stunning, hot, attractive, and loveeeely face.”
“Really…?” Her lips parted just a fraction, her eyelids lowering into an unimpressed half-glare. “Like the view down there that much?” she whispered faintly, her voice a soft, dangerous silk.
“Umm… ah, yeah! When do I get to eat that thingy you were making with Mom?” Noa asked, raising a finger with an excited face.
Vionette lowered her head. “I’m not experienced enough yet, so it takes time.”
Her white hair fell forward like a silken curtain, closing the world off around them. The red gemstone of her earring swayed, a drop of crimson against the white strands of her hair as she leaned down.
Her face hovered inches from his, her features relaxing as she softened her gaze. “Just wait… I’ll give you a meal you won’t forget.”
“I’ll be waiting then—” Noa sat up, kissed her lips, and then settled back down onto her thighs.
“By the way,” Vionette said, her head straightening as she looked out over the city with a satisfied smile—she had gotten the thing she wanted, and the victory tasted better than any steak. “What are you going to do with Thalaor? You have business there, right?”
“Well, yeah, I got some unfinished things… but it’s not the time yet.” He turned his head, watching the lights of Veylith flicker. “Let’s just enjoy ourselves for now.”
“Yeah… the festival is ready to begin tomorrow.”
Anything with you is fine.
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