Blessed By A Yandere Goddess

The Third Prince...

A prodigious swordsman, a prince of the people, and a veteran of the first war against humanity and the elves, fought at the dawn of the World-Class Gate’s opening.

Ronan had heard of him, but he had never really seen a picture of his face. He was too busy counting his savings to care.

If they weren’t hunters, he didn’t really care about them.

"And what does that change?"

"Don’t you get it? He’s the third prince!"

Anastasia looked at him like the answer was obvious.

"If someone like him needs help, then obviously we have to help!"

Sarael tilted her head, observing the flush creeping up Anastasia’s neck. Then she smiled, the expression far too knowing.

"Ronan, I think she likes him."

"Y-You—!"

Anastasia spun toward Sarael, already regretting every secret she’d shared during their late-night talks. Teaching a goddess about crushes had seemed harmless at the time. Now it was being weaponized against her.

"Seriously?"

Ronan’s grin widened as his gaze shifted between the elf prince and his sputtering student. He couldn’t really blame her. Someone their age falling for a stereotypical golden prince was practically expected.

"We should help."

Sarael added, her obsessive logic already working through the problem.

"She’s helped me prepare for my gift. And besides..."

Her violet eyes drifted toward Anastasia with something almost like fondness.

"I want her to understand how I feel about you. The more people who know what it’s like to love someone completely, the better."

The snow elf prince watched their whispered argument with growing impatience, his plumed helmet tucked under one arm. Behind him, the surviving soldiers were gathering their fallen, wrapping bodies in white cloth that blended with the snow.

"Is there a problem?" he asked.

"No problem at all."

Ronan straightened up, ignoring Anastasia’s glare and Sarael’s knowing smile.

"We’ll take the job. But I have conditions."

"I expected as much."

The prince’s pale blue eyes narrowed.

"Name them."

"First, my student here is still in training. Any danger that’s beyond her ability, I handle. Second, we work on our own schedule. You want us investigating, fine, but I’m not joining your military chain of command."

"Acceptable. And third?"

"If this turns out to be bigger than internal politics, I walk away. I’ve got enough problems without adding international incidents to the list."

The prince studied him for a long moment. Whatever he saw in Ronan’s expression, it seemed to satisfy him.

"Agreed. But don’t expect the pay to be as big."

✧ ✦ ✧

The foxes turned out to be more useful than initially thought. From scouts and added bodies, to basically another kind of sled dog, dragging the dead snow elves across the snow with a rope.

All the while, Anastasia had grown surprisingly close to the prince himself.

For a prince, he was remarkably down-to-earth. Ronan definitely found himself slightly envious.

Good looks, a prodigy, a literal royal. He had everything.

Even worse, he was good with women without relying on taking advantage of a literal yandere who had no idea what human boundaries were.

"Is he always like this?"

Ronan asked one of the snow elves.

"Yes, charismatic, isn’t he? Sometimes, I even wish I were a woma—"

"Okay, I don’t need to know that much."

Ronan cut him off before he could ramble on. This battalion felt more like a cult than an army. To Ronan, he already had his own theory about the conspiracy.

Most likely, this prince was just so popular that everyone else was outright horrified of him.

’At least I have Sarael.’

[Mhm, you’re correct.]

Sarael whispered directly into his mind, walking beside Ronan while carefully watching Anastasia. Once again, she looked like she was taking note of her actions.

Whatever it was, Ronan knew it likely had to do with the gift.

The march to Frostheim took another two hours through increasingly dense forest, the snow-laden pines gradually giving way to frozen clearings and ancient stone markers that lined what the elves called the Frost Road.

Anastasia spent most of the walk talking with the prince. Ronan watched from a distance, close enough to intervene if something went wrong, far enough to give her space.

Sarael walked beside him, her hand occasionally brushing his, the four foxes trotting in a loose formation around her feet, dragging the dead behind them.

The city emerged from the snow like a carving come to life. Frostheim’s walls were built from ice so old it had turned the color of deep ocean, shot through with veins of silver that pulsed faintly in the moonlight.

Spires rose behind the walls, each one a different shade of white and blue, connected by bridges of frozen light that arched across the sky.

The prince led them through the main gate without stopping. The guards saluted as he passed, their eyes lingering on the three humans and the four foxes with barely concealed curiosity.

Inside, the city was alive despite the hour. Elves moved through the streets in flowing cloaks, their breath misting in the cold air.

Lanterns hung from every corner, their flames burning a soft blue. The architecture was all curves and spirals, nothing like the angular human cities Ronan had spent his life in.

"Welcome to Frostheim."

The prince said, though his voice carried no pride. Just exhaustion.

"I’ll have quarters prepared for you. We’ll discuss the details of the investigation in the morning. And don’t worry, I’ll handle keeping suspicion off you three."

The prince paused, then gestured toward the foxes.

"Let me borrow them for a while. At least until I’ve unloaded the bodies where they need to go."

"Be my guest, just be sure to return them."

"Don’t worry, I’m not one to steal other people’s pets."

The quarters turned out to be a guest suite in an expensive inn, a set of three rooms connected by a shared sitting area with a fireplace that burned the same blue flames as the street lanterns.

The windows overlooked a frozen garden where ice sculptures of animals stood motionless in the snow.

And among the elves, there were even some human hunters lounging in it. Proof of how far the two species had mingled.

Anastasia collapsed onto one of the couches the moment they were alone.

"I can’t believe you almost refused."

"And I can’t believe I still accepted this job."

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