Prince of Thorns

“Precisely as one might expect from our kingdom’s very own Dreamweaver Princess!”

Suddenly, Illsosch Atelier found its usual solemn quiet subdued by loud raving.

“She, who has mastered the art of illusion, can turn the ordinary into extraordinary! Through her gift, no heart need be dreary, nor any spirit be dull! Her magic brings colors to a graying world! Wherever monotony settles, she banishes it! Wherever joy wanes, she rekindles it! Take yesterday for example…”

Not used to excessive praise, Aya sat stiffly throughout the whole speech.

She nearly forgot that the professor had attended the tea party. That she wasn’t even there made his adulation nothing short of mortifying, and worse, others could hear it. She could vaguely sense the princes staring in her direction.

"...And lo and behold! A divine beast...!"

‘S-Stop, please! I didn’t invite those guys!’

Thankfully, the class soon ended.

The boys gathered around the southern seat. While packing up, Aya listened to their conversation. They sounded uneasy as they discussed today’s lesson. Still sitting, Drystan peered down at the history books on his desk.

“You are putting the treaty before the battle, Drystan,” Gabriel pointed out.

“I am not.”

“You are.”

“That's the timeline!”

“It's the wrong timeline.”

Enzo let out a sigh. “May I remind you that you must pass both this and the academy exams before the Threshold Crossing Feast?"

“That’s still two months away,” Drystan huffed.

Aiden lifted a brow. “And will that be enough for you to memorize the entire history of the Theovaleo Kingdom?”

“Ughhh…”

The princes often appeared to be little more than acquaintances, but it was in times like this that their closeness showed. Drystan wasn't particularly adept in academics, so the others would assist him. Their gripes seemed to be only causing more stress, though. They continued talking until it was time to leave.

Aiden headed straight outside while Enzo and Gabriel passed by Aya.

“Congratulations on hosting your first tea party.” Once, she had thought Enzo’s smile to be spring itself, yet now it looked more like a storm on the horizon. “Quite a shame we couldn’t come.”

‘Urk!’ She tried not to cringe. “O-Ohoho! I assumed you were too busy...”

His gaze narrowed, and she gulped. “Perhaps, we can make up for it tomorrow?”

‘Uh, perhaps, no?’

“After class, then. Be sure to come.” He turned without waiting for her response.

“Ah, w-wait…!”

“Will you still say your etiquette is too lacking for you to join us on another tea party?” Again, she kept herself from grimacing, but Gabriel’s unsmiling expression made her recoil all the same. “Is it what we said back then that caused this estrangement?”

It was, but Aya wouldn't admit it.

She understood that they meant to act in the best interests of the royal house. But until now, their cutting words stung. It’s the first time she felt rejection before she could even offer friendship. Ever since, she swore she’d never seek them out.

That was only part of the reason, though. 

Gabriel was right. She did not perceive herself refined enough to earn a different reception from before. In their company, her rough edges became much more pronounced. That's why she didn’t invite them to the tea party despite how disrespectful it was. She was afraid they would observe too closely and notice what she was hiding all on their own —

Not a flaw nor a fault, but too much perfection in “Princess Hiraya.”

‘Royalty is the epitome of grace and elegance, and they’re the quintessential princes. She can’t be near them! They've already seen what sort of person I really am! They’ll realize that’s not me!’

“I suppose we should have been clearer with our intentions, as you have.”

Baffled, Aya could only watch Gabriel leave. ‘As I have? If it's what I did during our last tea party… Did he mean to say they should’ve punched me, too?!’

“Well, I'm not going. If you don't want to either, then don't.”

She turned towards Drystan. He was still reading, his brows scrunched together. He would flip a page, murmur under his breath, and then do it all over.

“...Why are you not going?”

He didn’t speak again. He didn't even look. He was too busy memorizing a passage from the book.

“Are you troubled by something?”

He recited the words louder now. ‘Don’t bother me,’ he seemed to be saying. She listened for a moment before walking closer.

Magic poured from her fingers.

Illsosch Atelier was then transformed into a battlefield sprawled under a cloudy sky. Trenches and craters riddled the terrain. Armed men marched with their flags.

Drystan looked up in surprise. “W-What are you doing?!”

“Visual aids might help. They give form to information, so you can actually see the sequence, not just the timelines.” With a flick of her fingers, the illusion moved. “The battle advances here, then the treaty is signed. After that, this alliance breaks apart. Dates are only numbers, but if you associate each with something happening, like an army moving, it becomes easier to understand.”

The illusion continued narrating the story, and he watched with rapt attention. In historical documents, wars like The Great Regional Conquest were written in a list of disconnected dates and names, so comprehending them demanded dense readings across multiple contexts. She played the events scene by scene. Eventually, confusion gave way to enlightenment. His tense expression softened.

“So, that’s what happened…”

“Will it be faster for you like this?”

“...Yes, I suppose it will.”

The room returned to normal.

Neither spoke for several seconds. Feeling awkward, Aya deliberated whether to stay or leave. She hadn't planned on helping. He'd take it as meddling. Yet before she realized it, she found herself creating an illusion through mental-casting.

Drystan slammed his book shut.

“You always do that.”

She blinked. “Do what?”

“Make everything look easy.”

“...I do not, and it isn't easy.”

He glared at her, but it wasn't out of anger. If it were, his ears would flush red. That's something she noticed whenever a certain topic came up. Instead, he was calm. With a sigh, he dragged a hand through his hair.

“Then, how did you do it?” Frustration strained his face. “Because I couldn't. I couldn't memorize things. I couldn't follow the lesson. I couldn't get high grades. I… I couldn't have a proper crowning ceremony.”

The words hung between them.

Some time ago, Aya had a realization. How hostile he'd treated her during their first meeting wasn't a show of disdain. Rather, it was concern. It came to her notice too late that he'd fallen short at the same performance she'd carried off with aplomb. He had to bear the humiliation he’d suffered for as long as he was royalty. Like how he hadn't known her situation, she hadn't known his circumstances either.

His Anointing had gone down in history for all the wrong reasons—magic that went out of control, a room overtaken by wild plants, an audience stricken with terror, a prince cracking under all the pressure.

‘Prince of Weeds.’

That was what the Divine Vessel of Earth had become known.

‘Weeds, huh…’

Drystan gave a self-deprecating smile. “How could you say it's not easy when you accomplished so much in so little time? You are the Dreamweaver Princess, and I am-”

“The Prince of Thorns.”

“...What?”

“‘Cause you’re prickly like a thorn.”

“Are you making fun of me?!”

“You’re no Prince of Weeds at all.”

Not just his ears but his entire face burned red. “S-Seriously! What's your deal?!”

“I was curious, so I did some research.” She smirked while he fumed. “The Grand Hall was large. To overrun it with weeds in mere seconds should’ve been impossible. Just from that, I can tell your magic is powerful. I’ve also figured you attempted to grow flowers at first, but they’re either malformed or short-lived. That gave me the impression that you forced the earth element to follow your order.”

“All I did was command it. Earth is supposed to govern, based on the Magic Language. It is natural that I make it obey,” he scoffed.

She frowned. “Magic, as a whole, is something you work with, not dominate. Why else do we need the Magic Grammar?”

“F-Forget it, okay?! Mind your own business! It’s over and done with-”

“It’s not!” she shouted, taking him aback. “Don’t you know anything about plants? They take time to grow! They require careful tending! So, learn from them! You’re lucky those weeds heeded your words, or else you would’ve stood on that stage with nothing!”

He clenched his teeth, his nostrils flaring. “For someone who calls others prickly, you sure have a sharp tongue.”

“Is that sharp for you? I guess Prince of Thorns is perfect, then! Fragile as a rose. Red as its petals. Prickly as its thorns.”

“And you are the Dreamweaver Princess?! More like a nightmare! Just wait for reality to come crashing with a punch!”

“Oh, I’m sorry for trampling all over your precious flower bed! It sure hurt!”

“Ha! Maybe you do need a little prick to keep your silly fantasies grounded!”

They bantered without reservation, completely forgetting their surroundings.

From the back of her mind, she knew she was committing another offense. But that's until she saw the look on his face. He appeared to be enjoying himself. The faintest smirk tugged at his lips, and his eyes glinted with mischief.

“Just so you know, I don't mind...” 

Then, Drystan smiled for once. 

“...Prince of Thorns sounds cooler than Prince of Weeds, after all.”