I was still lost in thought when the door burst open. Garrick strode in, a neutral expression crossing his face as his gaze fell on me. Seeing him properly for the first time, I understood why few dared stand in his way. Deep lines etched his face, proof of years spent on battlefields rather than courts.
He stood a little over six feet tall, broad-shouldered and immovable, a man built like a mountain, solid, shaped by war itself. I took a deep breath and was met by Garrick's powerful aura pressing against me. For the first time, I let my pride falter, but pushed past it. ''I… I want to apologise,'' I said, meaning it. ''For how I treated you before. It was uncalled for, and I.''
Garrick froze, his massive frame stiffening at my words. His dark eyes widened in disbelief, and for a moment, the lines of his weathered face softened, as decades of caution and discipline faltered at my words. He took a slow step forward, and a wary expression crossed his face.
''You're apologising?'' he finally rasped, incredulous. ''After all that?''
''Yes. I know I've been spoilt,'' I nodded in agreement. ''And I… I want to do better. Starting now.''
For a long moment, he just stared at me, as if measuring my words against some invisible standard I couldn't fathom. Then, slowly, the corners of his mouth twitched, almost forming a smile. ''Well,'' he said gruffly. ''Didn't think I'd live to see the day. That's… a start, My Prince. A start.''
Something shifted in the room, tension easing slightly, a bridge forming where none had existed before. Garrick's presence remained formidable, but now it carried something else: cautious respect. The older man let out a long, low sigh, the sound heavy with years of experience and perhaps a hint of exasperation.
He leaned back slightly, crossing his massive arms, and studied me with those hardened eyes. ''So… what are your goals?'' he asked finally, his voice calm but probing.
Meeting his gaze without hesitation. ''I want to become strong. Truly strong,'' I said, feeling the weight of the words settle in the room. ''I want to be able to control my power… whatever it is, whatever it can become. And to protect what matters to me.''
Garrick's eyes narrowed slightly, studying me as if weighing the truth behind my claim. I swallowed, then continued as my fists clenched in determination. ''I want you to help me train and help me lose all this weight. Teach me. Show me how to become strong.''
The older man's expression didn't change at first, though a faint glimmer of interest, or perhaps amusement, passed through his gaze. Then, slowly, he nodded. ''Very well,'' he responded, slowly nodding. ''If you want strength, you'll have it, but not without effort. You'll bleed, you'll hurt, and you'll question yourself at every step. Are you prepared for that?''
''I am,'' my jaw tightening. ''I don't care how long it takes.''
Garrick let out another sigh, deeper this time, as if accepting the weight of the challenge. ''Don't expect mercy… and don't look to me to carry you like I did when you were six either.''
''I don't expect anything less.''
''What has brought about this change?''
I let out a weary sigh before answering. ''I want to be better, Garrick. I'm tired of being judged. From now on, I'll show them who I was meant to be.''
As my words dissolved into the quiet, a slow, knowing smile curved Garrick's mouth. Before he could answer, the door opened, and Lily stepped inside. She regarded me as a stranger, which, in truth, I was, though she could have no inkling of it. A faint shake of her head, then she spoke. ''My Prince. Lady Selene requests an audience with you both. Shall I show her in?''
Curiosity flickered as I recalled the names from the memories I was given. ''Send her in,'' I said.
The brunette nodded at my words before vanishing, only to return seconds later with a gorgeous woman in tow, who stepped through, wearing black-and-gold armour that seemed forged from midnight itself, every plate catching the torchlight. The breastplate hugged her hourglass figure.
Wow, she's a warrior woman in the flesh!
That's when I noticed it was carefully fitted to her build, yet it showed every edge of her 6'4 slender frame. Black vambraces, decorated with gold, covered her arms to the elbows. Matching greaves protected her legs, the dark metal ending high enough to allow for flexibility, with the black leather undersuit visible beneath.
A crimson cape hung from her shoulders, secured by a gold clasp shaped like a five-pointed star. It shifted slightly as she walked, hinting at the strength in her posture and the confidence she exuded. Her dark brown hair fell over one shoulder, framing a striking face, high cheekbones, plump red lips, and blue eyes that studied the room with calm focus.
She halted three paces past the threshold, boots rooted to the stone, letting the silence thicken until every gaze in the hall had swung to me. My own eyes, traitors, slid downward, tracing her warrior's body, muscular but still lady-like, my gaze stopped at her decent-sized chest.
She looks like Wonder Woman, I thought, imagining how she'd look in a normal dress.
Then her voice rolled out, low and dark as warmed honey poured over iron. ''My Prince.'' A pause, deliberate. ''My eyes are up here.''
''S... Sorry,'' I managed to mumble out.
A small, dangerous smile curved her lips as the others looked on in shock. ''Thank you for meeting with me after such a dreadful event. But rest assured, no one will lay a hand on you while the Lion's Guard stands watch.''
I met her blue eyes and knew she meant every word. I nodded. ''I appreciate that. But I'm guessing you can also help me lose all this weight?''
The moment the words left my mouth, her smile sharpened. She leaned forward, deliberately, leaving little to the imagination. ''I can,'' she purred. ''I'll turn you into something truly beautiful, but it won't be easy, considering you're training with Lord Garrick here?''
''I'll do it despite that,'' I said.
For a heartbeat, the room went utterly still. Selene straightened, the confidence in her posture faltering as her brows lifted ever so slightly. Garrick's arms loosened from their crossed position, his head tilting as though he hadn't quite processed what I'd said. I noticed Lily had frozen at my words.
Her eyes widened as if I'd spoken in a language she didn't recognise. My voice was steadier than I felt, and my next words made her lips part. ''I'll train with you in the mornings, and then evenings with Garrick.''
The older warrior let out a short, incredulous huff. ''You'll break,'' he said flatly. ''No noble body endures that. Certainly not yours.''
''Riverrun has healers,'' I retorted.
The brunette folded her arms beneath her breastplate. ''Morning conditioning alone will leave you crawling,'' she said coolly. ''And Garrick doesn't believe in restraint.''
''I understand,'' I said to Garrick, then to Selene. ''That's the point.''
The older man studied me in silence, his expression unreadable. ''There will be no easing you in,'' he warned. ''No mercy because of your title.''
''Good,'' I replied. ''I don't want mercy.''
Her shock had turned into something sharper now, interest edged with disbelief. ''You won't last,'' she said. ''Not without begging.''
''Then don't listen when I do.''
That earned a reaction. Garrick's jaw tightened, something grim settling into his eyes. Selene's mouth curved slowly, a dangerous, appraising smile spreading across her lips. Only Lily reacted differently as something sparkled in her eyes, which seemed like amusement. I suppose I deserve it for the way I treated her.
I was about to continue, but Garrick stepped forward at last, looming over me. I held his gaze. ''Morning with Rothvayne,'' he said. ''Night with me. From tomorrow onward, your life belongs to training.''
Selene inclined her head slightly. ''If you survive the first week,'' she said softly, ''I'll consider you worth the effort.''
I drew a slow breath and responded. ''For the first time, I'm choosing this.''
And judging by the looks on their faces, none of them would ever forget it. The room felt heavier than before, and despite the adrenaline still coursing through me, fatigue pressed against my limbs like a stone. My chest heaved, and my shoulders sagged slightly as if gravity had doubled.
Garrick gave me a long look, then let out a low, weary sigh. ''That's enough for now. I need to send a message to the king about this… development,'' he said, his voice gruff but measured. ''We'll reconvene later.''
''I'll see you at dawn, then,'' she said.
Without another word, she turned and left, the faint metallic whisper of her armour fading down the corridor. Garrick moved toward the door as well, glancing back once. ''Rest. You'll need it. Don't collapse before your first day of training.''
Lily lingered for a moment after the other two left, just staring at me with an unknown glint in her eyes. I gave her a tired nod before letting my gaze fall to the floor as she stepped out, not responding after pouring me some tea. Now I was left alone, the silence pressing in. I closed my eyes, feeling the exhaustion I'd been pushing aside finally catch up.
My thoughts were a tangled mess, anticipation, fear, and determination all colliding. Still, for now, all I could do was let myself slump against the bed before falling asleep after drinking the delicious hot drink.
***
(Lily's POV)
I lingered just outside the doorway after the others had gone, trying to collect myself, half-hidden in the shadow of the corridor as I used to when I was young and still foolish enough to hope he wouldn't notice me.
Now the prince was… different. Not just how people change as they grow up. Different as someone had reached inside the old prince, the spoiled, vicious boy who'd grown soft and wide from years of indulgence, and hollowed him out, then filled the space with something harder, sharper.
He was still fat. That hadn't changed. The broad belly strained against his shirt. The thick arms braced on the bed to hold up a body that had never known real hardship until now. But the way he carried it, gods, that was new. The old Arthur had worn his weight like a badge of entitlement, slouching with lazy arrogance.
Using his size to loom and intimidate, to make servants shrink and courtiers avert their eyes. He'd puff up, sneer down that soft double chin, and spit venom at anyone who dared exist in his shadow, especially me. He'd called me names I still heard in quiet moments. Mocked my plainness, my everything.
Once, after too much wine, he'd grabbed my wrist and told me I was lucky even to be allowed in the same room as him. That girls like me should be grateful for scraps of attention from a prince, even one who looked like a beached whale in velvet. I'd hated him then. Properly hated him.
Now he was in the room getting rest, breathing like each inhale cost him something precious. Exhausted. Worn to the bone. And yet he hadn't backed down. Not from Garrick's threats, not from the king's looming displeasure. That same heavy body that once waddled through halls demanding deference now stood like it was ready to take a beating rather than yield.
I had to stifle an almost giddy laugh that wanted to escape. It was absurd. Hilarious, really. The pampered, nasty little tyrant who'd made my life small was now choosing to suffer, publicly, messily, painfully, for whatever mad point he was trying to prove. The fat boy who'd once sneered at weakness was about to learn it intimately.
Every bruise would show on that soft flesh. Every humiliation would echo louder because of how he'd once lorded his size over everyone else. And some vicious, delighted part of me wanted a front-row seat. Not because I still hated him, though maybe a thin thread of it lingered, like scar tissue.
But because the distance between that sneering, entitled child and this battered stranger was so vast, it felt like cosmic justice. Like the universe had finally decided to give him a taste of what it felt like to be small, no matter how big his body stayed. A soft, wicked chuckle slipped out before I could stop it.
''You're really going to make them hate you, aren't you?'' I whispered. ''And you're going to hate every second of it. Every bruise blooming on that soft skin, every sneer at the fat prince who finally grew a spine.''
I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Then I remembered the way his voice used to cut, the way he'd once told me, in front of half the court, that I was nothing but an ornament nobody wanted to look at too closely. The pity dissolved. I smoothed my expression into something that might pass for concern, squared my shoulders, and stepped into the light.
Let him suffer. Let him learn what it felt like to be the one everyone wanted gone. I'd watch. I'd even help if he asked. But I wasn't going to save him from it.