A glowing crystal chandelier hangs over a grand table filled with delicacies that would make even an angel’s mouth water. A large, seasoned fish wafts its garlic aroma through the smoke, with several smaller cuts around it. Savory meats, various breads, colorful desserts, and fresh vegetables sit across the rectangular table as five figures sit opposite each other. Ganymede is accompanied by his youngest, Brenda, and they quietly and solemnly eat their roasted duck with a silver fork and knife, ignoring the shirtless man at the end of the table chomping on a cooked bird leg and letting strips of half-devoured meat rain onto the table. Laura sits silently, staring solemnly at an empty plate as Resten, in his formal uniform, slowly cuts into a steak with a knife and fork. He worriedly eyes his mother, whose vacant gaze is fixed on the empty plate before her. Worried that Sylvester will notice, Resten gently puts down his utensils and taps Laura's leg under the table.
“Mother,” Resten whispers, “Please, you need to eat something.”
Laura doesn’t respond, staring at her empty plate as if her mind isn’t present. Ganymede, slowly chewing his roasted duck, cautiously glares at Laura from across the table, trying to get her attention. He picks up an olive from a small plate of salad and glances at Sylvester, who’s gulping steaming soup from a large bowl. Planting an olive between his thumb and index finger, Ganymede flicks the olive across the table, pelting Laura in the forehead. The platinum-haired woman slowly raises her head and looks at Ganymede, who’s silently mouthing ‘EAT SOMETHING’ to her.
Resten recognizes Ganymede’s silent words, picks up his utensils, quickly cuts a chunk of steak, and raises the fork to Laura’s mouth.
“Here, mother,” The young man whispers as he inches the savory meat close to her mouth.
The steam wafting into her nose doesn’t faze her; she continues to stare vacantly into the empty plate, ignoring everyone around her. Resten pokes her mouth with a piece of meat, but she turns her head away.
“Is the food not to your liking?” Sylvester says, wiping grease from his face with a towel.
Laura sits quietly, staring at her empty plate, her hands resting on her legs. Ganymede silently eats his morsel, eyes cautiously ping-ponging between Sylvester and Laura.
Sylvester strips a turkey leg from a cooked carcass and tosses it onto Laura’s plate, where gravy splatters across the table.
“Your finest cooks have slaved to make this feast. Eat.” Sylvester sits back into his chair.
Laura sits quietly, turning her head slightly away from her meal in hidden spite, while Resten nervously and gently shakes her legs.
“Mother, please,” Reston whispers under his breath.
“Oh, don’t be so glum, Laura,” Sylvester smiles. “Don’t think of this interaction as prisoner and warden, although that is exactly what this is; I like to think of it as a family gathering. We’ve known each other for years, and I wanted to commemorate these years of peace and stability with a celebration. So why don’t you be a good girl and pick up that bird and eat it.”
Laura clenches her white dress, and her jaw tightens as she gazes at the turkey leg unceremoniously placed on her plate.
“You’re a curious one, aren’t you?” Sylvester says, smiling at the Queen. “I’m guessing you’re refusing to eat so you won’t have the strength to fight when the time comes to entertain me, aren’t you?”
Laura doesn’t answer.
“She probably isn’t well,” Ganymede says.
Sylvester turns his head and glares at Ganymede with threatening eyes.
“I wasn’t speaking to you,” Sylvester says, a menacing growl beneath his sharp tone.
Ganymede shrugs and continues eating his meal.
The warlord turns his gaze back to Laura and leans on the table.
“Eat,” Sylvester commands, glaring daggers at Laura.
The queen glares back at Sylvester and lifts her nose.
“No,” She says in a soft, defiant tone.
Glaring at the woman, Sylvester’s jaw tightens as he clenches his spoon so tight it bends under the pressure. He glares into the woman’s defiant eyes before his angry glare morphs into a smile. Dropping his bent spoon, he rests his back in his royal chair, picks up a red grape, and plops it into his mouth. He chews for a few moments, gazing at Laura with amusement, who keeps her defiant nose in the air.
“Guard!” Sylvester shouts.
A few moments pass before a lady Cugarian guard enters the room holding a spear. She leans in, bringing her smooth, dark-skinned head near his mouth as the warlord whispers in her ear. She smiles, then turns and exits. Sylvester picks up another grape and eats it as he calmly taps his finger on the table. A few moments pass, and the lady guard enters, holding Laura’s rapier in both hands. Sylvester takes the rapier and places it on the table. A short while later, the same Cugarian guard returns. This time, he returns with two Casternean men, horns protruding from their foreheads, dressed in white cooking clothes, and a Casternean maid, wings protruding from the sides of her head. The three stand beside Sylvester, sharing confused, worried looks.
Sylvester stands and clasps Laura’s rapier.
“Your Queen doesn’t like the food you’ve prepared,” Sylvester says before thrusting the blade into the man’s gut.
The man wails in agony as he falls to his knees with the rapier in his gut.
“DADDY!” The maid cries as she falls near her father as he screams in agony.
“HOW DARE YOU!” Enraged, Laura jumps from her chair and charges toward Sylvester.
Resten springs from his chair and wraps his arms around his mother’s waist, stopping her.
The maid cries as she tries to console her father while Sylvester coldly glares at Laura, her face filled with unbridled rage.
Ganymede and Brenda stand to see the wounded man's state. Blood pools beneath him as his eyes roll around in his head, with cold sweat pouring down his face.
Ganymede and Brenda exchange glances and nod. Brenda quickly circles the table, grabs a white towel, and rushes to the dying man to tend to his wounds.
“Eat that turkey!” Sylvester demands, pointing to the plate.
“You coward!” Laura screams, fist balled in rage, while Resten uses all of his strength to hold Laura back. “You’re not my lord,”
“I DON’T GIVE A DAMN WHAT I AM TO YOU!” Sylvester screams back. “IF YOU THINK YOU HAVE A RIGHT TO YOUR OWN WILL, THEN CHALLENGE ME AND DEFEAT ME FOR IT. OTHERWISE, DO WHAT YOU ARE TOLD TO DO, OR I’LL HAVE EVERY CASTERNEAN HERE SLAUGHTERED RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU!”
Laura, seething, teeth clenched and fist balled, glares menacingly at the Warlord as he lifts his nose. Everything in her screams at her to accept his challenge, but the trembling arms of her son wrapped around her waist make her relent. Tears roll down her cheeks as she swallows her pride and rage and slowly sits in her seat. Resten pants in exhaustion as he sits in his chair, his uniform now disheveled from the struggle. Laura picks up the utensils, stabs the fork into the savory turkey leg, and cuts off a piece. Her fork hand trembles as she brings it to her lips. She opens her mouth and eats the morsel.
Watching Laura eat the turkey leg, Sylvester slowly sits in his chair and scoots closer to the table. He picks up a bundle of grapes and resumes eating. Brenda dresses the man’s wounds on the floor before picking him up in her arms and carrying him out of the dining area, followed by his loved ones. Ganymede shakes his head, then sits in his seat as everyone finishes their dinner.
Later, in the fancy halls of Mainstay Castle, Ganymede paces back and forth on the crimson rug while Laura leans against her door. Ganymede glares at Laura as he walks past her, while Laura keeps her sullen head lowered.
“What the hell was that back there!” Ganymede says angrily, pointing toward the dining hall, but keeping his voice down. “Have you lost your mind!”
“Shut up, Ganymede,” Laura spits back angrily. “What would you do? I have to sit at that godforsaken table with that monster and listen to that disgusting beast eat like a pig day after day, all while he taunts and tortures me and my people?”
“Yes, Laura! Yes,” The chieftain spits back. “It’s been keeping us and our people alive. You almost got a man killed because of your antics.”
“Look at you.” Laura steps to Ganymede, head tilted up. “The mighty chieftain reduced to a man who eats from the hand of the very man who enslaves his people.”
“Oh, stop it,” Ganymede says. “You think I don’t want to crush his skull and pound his corpse into dust? I’ve tried hundreds of times. But time and time again, he manages to beat me. We need a better plan, Laura. We can’t keep this up much longer. Another battle between us might be the last, and you know what happens then, right?”
Laura lowers her head, worriedly stroking her own arms.
“That’s right, Brenda and Resten will take our places. You think they’re ready for what Sylvester has in store for em?”
“Resten is my precious son. I can’t lose him,” Laura’s voice trembles at the thought of her son’s suffering. “Not to him. Not like this.”
“Then it's best to put your petty emotions aside and cooperate.”
Laura nods in agreement.
“Forgive me.” She wipes a tear from her face.
Ganymede sighs in frustration, turns towards the stained-glass window, and rests his arm and forehead on it. He mulls over ideas, but nothing useful comes to mind.
“I haven’t seen my wife nor my daughters in a long time,” Ganymede says. “I’m happy to watch Brenda grow despite being imprisoned, but I wish things were different. I spent so much time fighting you; I feel that I know you better than my own family. At one time, I thought all that mattered was winning the war, but all I got out of it was this.”
“I haven’t seen my husband in years,” Laura says. “Sometimes I worry if I’ll ever see him again. We used to take Resten to the prairie fields and prance together under the evening sun until we fell asleep.” Laura wipes a tear from her eye. “I miss those days.”
A solemn silence settles between the two as they reminisce about better times at home.
“You think we’ll be able to return to those times, Laura?” Ganymede asks, still leaning on the stained-glass windows.
Laura stays silent, leaning against the door and nervously stroking her arms as she thinks about the answer.
“I don’t know.”