“Once upon a time, there was a Celtic King who had conquered many lands and seas. He was feared by several kings, fawned by beautiful women and bowed down by various people. He was ruthless to his enemies, yet loved by many.”, Princess Petun narrated during Eve's last visit.

"Then one day, a village near his kingdom has been attacked by barbarians. He went there to check the people and avenge on their behalf, but when they arrived on that bloody battlefield, a woman clad in a dark robe was standing solitarily among the piles of dead bodies. With her long, willowy hair and gold, stoic eyes, she held her bloody sabres and summoned the dark wind. Her cries were like of a wolf howling, that all the soldiers of the Celtic King knelt with fear. It was the first time the Celtic King laid his eyes on the Goddess - "

"And your ancestor stole the war diety, made some babies with her, and these poor babies popped some generations of royalty that lived in a very cruel and sad fates.", Eve inserted. "Sounds like a heaven's retribution to me."

The Princess only smiled at her sarcasms.

And even though it seems like a rip-off fairy tale, Eve could see an angle towards her murder.

While swinging the sabres, she closed her eyes and tried to see the imagery of the war Goddess, and the murderer on her case. Both were in dark clothes and wielded Hussar sabres dripped in blood. The only difference was that the latter was not an avenger.

Or was she?

"Pizza delivery.", a voice sounded in Irish tone she always loved, and when she turned around, it bore the deep blue eyes she always adored. He was holding a long box, and judging by its smell, it was pepperoni.

My own Celtic King, she thought.

Roarke felt his heart skipped a beat when Eve smiled at him. She's wearing loose sweatpants that matched her white tank top, and even though she looked bad-ass enough holding two swords, her extensions gave her an aura of an ancient warrior.

"Please tell me that's real.", she said as she reached the box.

He immediately raised it above his head, away from her greedy hands. "The payment?"

She tried to hide her grin by scowling, and then yanked his lapels to give him a deep, feverish kiss that could knock both of them senselessly. When his hand lowered a bit, she grabbed the box immediately and moved away.

"That's foul, Eve.", he frowned when she opened the box moaning. "I'm demanding a delivery tip for this."

"Don't dream, boy. My hubby's got more money than me. Go ask him.", she teased.

They were at the hotel's dome, an open area made for exclusive guests, and currently, for the royal family. It was surrounded by wild flowers and low-dimmed lights, and with tonight's full moon scenery, the place was quite romantic. They sat squarely at the large mat laid on the floor. As she opened the box and gnawed the first slice, she felt like heaven.

"Are the foods here really that bad that you could weep for a pizza?", Roarke asked while eating his slice.

"They make me eat vegetables.", she scowled. "It's not like I'm complaining or something - I mean I lived my life before eating soy foods - but they don’t give a damn what I would like to eat for dinner. Eat this and that, like they were Summerset's clones. And what in a world they never serve coffee? Coffee's an essential in life, and chocolates too!"

He couldn't help but chuckled on her childish rants. God, he really missed her.

"If I indulged your fix then.", he asked as he produced a thermos. Fetching two cups from the counter, he poured his primed coffee. "Will the palace guards arrest me?"

"I'll bail you.", she purred, sniffing the aroma.

"Glad to know."

He reached for the swords and studied its blades. "These are authentic and antique swords. They might have blunted the tips and chipped it to make it female-friendly, but still sturdy enough to dodge a bullet."

"Those might weigh quarter a pound, and won't stab your foot in case you accidentally stepped on

it, but your arms would hurt like hell swinging."

"Female consorts practiced the arts a year before their engagements. Yours is two days.", he said, then reached her long hair and kissed it. "The offertory dance was traditionally an honour to the Goddess who saved their people to be smitten by barbarians, and at the same time a display how the legendary King proposed to the said Goddess the prosperity, power and love."

It felt ridiculous, Eve thought, that his small gesture could make her insides go jelly, despite the fact that they've been married for years.

"My dance instructor told me I'm flexible enough to wield the sabres. I just need to work out my stiff movements."

"Let me remind you darling, your dance number will be tomorrow."

"Shit."

Never in her life she do solo dancing in public, more with props. She danced if she's with Roarke, and before him with Mavis whenever they hit clubs. But never alone.

"So besides of delivering me pizza, what brings you here?"

"Is seeing my wife having her dance rehearsal not counted?", he replied, then laughed when

Eve scowled. "Okay, I have a meeting with someone here."

He told her about his encounter with Lamook.

"It all point towards Princess Sora - the killing method, the perp's profile, the means. I just couldn't nail the motive cleanly, but if she's cooperating with Levinski that means she vetoed the wedding. If that's the case, then why kill Petun?", she murmured. "Unless, she knew all about the Princess’ elopement with a servant."

"You're going to arrest her?"

"No, not yet. These are just speculations. We need to have enough evidences against her, better if we caught her red-handed. She has a tight alibi with Prince Lamook."

Interrogating the royal consort like Sora would definitely raise some red-flags, and no matter how discreet the process would be, Eve would face several international laws and red-tapes including the Feds and HSO.

Then she continued. "Tomorrow would be an entrapment for Kyrios. That is, if he's gonna stick with his original damsel-in-distress plan with Petun."

“He'll kidnap you, Eve.”, Roarke inserted. “And by doing it means he's innocent about the murder.”

"You'll be there. All my teams will be there. I can even deal it by myself."

She cupped his face and saw some worry in his eyes. She knew that Kyrios was not a threat, but once he learned about the trickery, they wouldn't know what he could do.

"Dance for me, Eve."

She almost choked her coffee. "What?"

"Dance for me.", he repeated, toying her hair. "You'll be doing a live performance in front of Levinski, in front of several people, but never on your husband?”

"Well...I'm still not sure about my form…and I'm still struggling with the moves."

She could handle an entrapment ops, maneuver a dozen of chemi-heads, and outwit psychopaths, so it's a given she'll live after a short episode of humiliation.

"Consider it as a practice, Darling."

She picked up the sabres on the floor, went to the centre. "I'm gonna tie your tongue into knots if you laugh."

"Ha-ha-ha.", he teased that earned him a deadly growl.

She cued the music.

Ameliane told her that imaging is vital in every performance. That’s why she didn't remove her long locks not because female consorts have longer hair, but because she wanted to visualize the Goddess – minus the dead bodies. She danced barefooted to maintain her balance, and she chose to practice outside to feel the natural rush of wind instead of using a holo-room.

The Offertory was an event wherein the consort princess would display herself to her betrothal by performing arts, and by choosing to dance means that the consort must re-enact the Goddess’ offertory – minus the dead bodies of course.

The Celtic King and the Goddess – two unlikely characters yet similarly born out of war, and grew in an environment full of cruelty and violence.

A mortal and an immortal. A human and a diety. Two lost souls that found each other by love.

Like them.

As Eve swung the swords in eclectic rhythm, Roarke was fixated. It’s as if the world spun and changed into the old era wherein only the two of them exists.

In front of him was a woman he knew for a lifetime, his soul mate, that no matter what worlds they’re in, he’ll definitely find her.

Their eyes locked in each other, and before she could execute her last move, he was standing in front of her. Their mouths fused, with a primal heat slamming their system. She couldn’t feel her props anymore, nor hear the music. The passion had drowned her.

Surrounded by flowers and bathed by the moonlight, they peeled each other until bare.

Roarke’s head lowered, tracing Eve’s neck down to her breast that made her writhed underneath. He was murmuring words of his childhood, language she never understood but felt its meaning. She wrapped her legs around his lean waist, arms caging his shoulders, and hips rocking to tease his length. The pressure drove them crazy.

His first thrust inside her had her bowing off the floor. One hand at a time, he linked his fingers with hers, then pulled her arms over her head. Rolling his hips, he stroked deep in the inside, rubber her on the outside. She sobbed his name, climaxing with a pained moan, shivering with pleasure as her insides clenched in desperate ripples around him. He drove the point home with every plunge, reminding her that her body was no longer her own.

“Agrah, you’re mine. Mine.”, he groaned.

She realized he was clinging to her as desperately as she was to him, that urgency laced every breath, every touch. His eyes darkened like midnight as he poured himself inside her. And surrendered.

“I don’t think I could still remember what happened before we ended up this way.”, Eve managed to say as she curled towards Roarke, with head rested on his arm. “I don’t think I could walk after this.”

“Me too. Maybe we should stay like this forever.”, he replied.

“You know we can’t. We’ll die of pneumonia here, and I don’t want to have that written on my obituary.”

It took them a minute to move and changed.

“Roarke?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

That stopped him. He looked at her warm whiskey eyes and replied, “I love you too.”

The Celtic King and the Goddess. Her and Roarke. Petun and Kyrios. Love. Marriage. Murder.

These were the elements that swirled inside Eve’s head. A fairy tale’s story was greatly desired by many, and sometimes these desires could blind people to commit something evil.

“Princess Sora – a princess by blood who married her prince, but it turns out she was one out of many. Competition for his love, and also for his throne. Then here comes another Princess who received not only favours from her beloved, but also acquired the so-called ‘true love’ she never had. Jealousy turned to murder. That’s why it’s personal.”

“Sounds like a relationship between Snow White and her Wicked Stepmother. There’s a movie adaptation about that story, Darling, in case you want to know the gist.”, Roarke explained when she gave him a questioned look. “When we have children someday, we’ll have fairy tale bedtime stories for them. Something we never experienced since childhood.”

She considered it. For a moment.

“Anyways, we need to focus first how to capture our Prince Charming tomorrow. God knows whether I need to book him for murder or not.”