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It was akin to Fate’s own private amusement. Changing the flow of time, especially within the little playground Winter Verdandi had inadvertently created. Pitting two lovers against each other until the end of time, which stays, maddeningly, out of reach. The hauntings of past memories that are broken and disjointed, confusion roiling its bearers as they tried to make sense of what was happening. One of them cursed with all the memories of past loops, the other, doomed to remember when it’s too late. At times, Fate’s cruelty ebbs to allow the briefest respite for the two lovers.
The heavy doors slammed open. Along with everyone else, Penelope looked over to the source of the commotion, the hissed whispers about her choice of dress dying down as the Crown Prince Callisto Regulus strode in, a vicious grin upon his lips as the half-dead body of an imperial assassin was dragged in. “Happy birthday, little brother,” he grinned. Golden hair glinted in the crystal light, as he slammed his sword into the rapidly cooling corpse of the ‘servant’ before turning to leave. As fearful gasps and murmurs filled the room, Penelope caught Callisto's gaze. He raised an eyebrow at her undaunted staring before leaving.
It was a sharp pain that lanced through her heart, so frigid that the magenta-haired lady pressed a gloved hand to her chest just to make sure, eyes automatically scanning the banquet hall for assassins. She exhaled sharply, reminding herself that this was another loop and that she was not Empress. Glancing again at the gossiping nobles, Penelope slipped out of the hall and easily made her way to the imperial gardens.
A soft, unbidden smile flickered upon her painted lips as she cupped a rose in her hand. This was where she and Callisto had spent most of their free time together in some of their past lives. Where Callisto had smiled lovingly as he slipped a gleaming ring upon her finger. Where he had knelt, several months later, head pressed against her belly as he wept quietly.
“Thank you,” he had whispered, voice trembling. “Thank you for staying with me and blessing us with our own child.”
Her gaze moved to the garden maze beyond, nostalgia filling her. With a sad, tired smile, Penelope entered the tall hedges, until she reached the middle. Plopping down onto the edge of the fountain, the lady gazed back at her own reflection. Her neck pricked, and she stood up instinctively, turning around. A flash of gold caught her eye as a gleaming blade pressed against her neck. Her turquoise eyes lifted, meeting the cold crimson gaze of the Crown Prince. She closed them, bowing her head.
“... I, Penelope Eckhart, greet his Imperial Highness, the glorious sun of our Empire.” She lifted her skirt delicately, curtseying demurely as the blade cut deeper, blood beginning to run slowly down into the neckline of her dress.
“Why are you here?” He demanded sharply as he gestured for her to rise. His face contorted in a bout of sadism, causing an involuntary tremble to run down her spine. She remembered when he had cut her down in previous lives with that look directed at her.
“I was simply getting some fresh air. I was unaware that Your Highness would also be here.” That was a lie.
“Do you think I’m stupid, Princess Eckhart?” He asked sharply. “Amongst the nobles that were present when I entered, you were the only one who fearlessly met my eyes. Do you really not fear death at all?”
“... Are you going to kill me or not, Your Highness?” She swallowed the lump in her throat, staring into his eyes.
“I’ll personally grant that wish of yours, then. What kind of Crown Prince would I be if I couldn’t grant that wish for one of my subjects?”
The blade dragged down to her chest, right over her heart. A bone-chilling sound, of flesh giving under the sharp steel, could be heard before he yanked it out. The Crown Prince held her in a graceful dip; she clutched at his arms at the sudden movement. Blood continued to bloom across her bodice before her head fell limply.
The shears cut with a loud snap, threads falling to the floor.
A sharp, hitched breath, and then her chest fell for the last time. Callisto's sword clattered to the ground, crimson eyes widening as months, years-worth of past timelines flooded his brain, the flow of time bringing with it the fleets of guilt and horror. "No, no, no-" he cradled her close to him, falling to his knees in the center of the garden maze that was always their first meeting. "Penelope, no..." for the first time in this time loop— she was always his first, no matter what it was— Callisto kissed her reddened lips gently, hungrily, the iron taste of blood once so disgusting becoming gentle nectar, pouring forth from her mouth and dripping on the white of his clothes. His beloved was so pliant— so different from the way she usually was, winding her fingers into his hair, the pant of breath between them.
“Love, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking. “My darling Empress, you can wake up now. It’s not funny anymore.” Her head lolled against his shoulder, eyes closed peacefully. A gentle smile on her face.
White, he observed dimly. She wore white this time. Gold vines and butterflies that wove through her hair in a dazzling show, akin to the Empress crown he had commissioned for her lifetimes ago. He remembered how he had moved his thumb through the folds of the rose cupped in his hand, imagining Penelope’s sweet smiles and warm laughter. Messy sketches of crowns with various styles littered his desk. Small, warm hands that had covered his eyes teasingly before she revealed herself.
"Butterflies," Penelope had said that summer’s day, smiling ever so lovely, "they mean hope, rebirth, and life." She paused, cheeks flushing as pink as Eckhart's symbol. "A new life with you." He'd attacked her with kisses, their carefree laughter a ghostly echo of tranquil days.
The stolen moments of peace, away from the Eckharts and the looming duty of the Emperor, its dark shadow having shrunk under the bright loveliness that was his wife. White, like his beloved’s wedding gown, gold threads carving up and down her graceful body into a garden of flowers, with matching lace gloves. Gold petals, like his own coronation ceremony which she’d fussed over for ages, ordering the imperial wizards around until he swept her away to another one of their secret meetings, to the relief of the wizards.
The flush of her skin as he murmured sweet nothings into her ear, ample bite marks running up and down the column of her graceful neck. The way his deft fingers brushed against the bare skin of her back as he slowly unlaced the bodice of her wedding dress. That moment Penelope had smacked his shoulder playfully, a lovestruck grin on her face.
“Are you going to keep playing around, darling husband of mine?” She giggled as he teased another kiss out of her.
“We have forever, impatient wife of mine.”
“I love you, Callisto Regulus.”
“I love you, Penelope Regulus.”
A shuddering sob left him as he desperately pressed his ear to her chest. It was silent. Callisto Regulus gently laid her down, arranging her carefully before he picked up his sword. The moon bore witness to the sickening sight as he plunged the blade straight through his body, before laying down beside his wife. Sheathing the sword, he intertwined his hand with the bearer of his soul. Callisto moved his head to face Penelope, kissing her forehead sweetly as their blood intermingled. The two cursed lovers laid in that garden that night. They were found hours later, him cradling her to his chest, with a smile on their faces.
Regulus collapsed, its light fading away.
The threads wound themselves back together.
Regulus coalesced, and winked back into existence.