The wedding, surprisingly, went off without a hitch.
Nobody tried to crash it, no swords were drawn at the altar, and no gods decided to start drama just for fun. Which, all things considered, was a miracle.
Maybe it was because the bride—despite looking every bit the graceful noblewoman in white—was the same person who had left more than a few cocky heroes bleeding in the dust. No one wanted to be the next.
The streets outside were alive with celebration. Commoners danced with arms slung over each other's shoulders, cheering like their entire city had just been blessed. Which, in a way, it had. Their "White-Haired Hero" had married their "Princess." That alone was enough to spark joy from one end of the city to the other.
King Iasos was practically glowing with satisfaction. He didn't mind Cyd's flat expression throughout the ceremony—even if the groom looked more like a guy signing off on a funeral than a wedding. What mattered was that the people were happy, and more importantly…
He'd heard the rumors.
Cyd had the favor of Demeter herself. Supposedly, where his boots touched the ground, barren fields bloomed. Crops bent toward him like sunflowers chasing the light. As long as Cyd remained in this kingdom, prosperity was all but guaranteed. That was more than enough reason to keep him close.
A blessing from a god is a blessing for the kingdom, Iasos thought. And no man walks away from my daughter. Not now.
Still, when the banquet came, Cyd refused wine with a simple "Not thirsty." Iasos took it in stride, giving Cyd the kind of grin men only exchanged when they thought they really understood each other.
After all, why share drinks with sweaty nobles when you had a beautiful wife waiting for you in the bridal chamber?
"Idiots," Cyd muttered once he slipped away from the party, already yanking at the suffocating wedding garments. A shadow peeled from the alley behind him—small, sharp-eyed, and smug.
Medusa.
The girl leapt from the dark, handing over a bundle of clothes.
"Leaving already?" she asked, tilting her head.
"Yeah," Cyd replied, tugging his tunic down. His armor reacted instantly. His vambrace clicked and hissed as tiny, scale-like plates unfurled over his skin, shredding through the sleeve with ease. A cloak of silver scales stretched and then dropped behind him like it had just woken from a nap.
Medusa puffed her cheeks in mock annoyance. "You swore you weren't going to do something this dumb."
"I swore no such thing," Cyd muttered, tearing the frayed cloth off his wrist. "And you know it."
"What about her?" she asked, voice quieter now. "She's probably waiting."
"I'll say goodbye," he said simply, flexing his right hand. "That's all I can do."
Medusa sighed and tugged up her hood. "I'll wait outside. Take your time… if you need it."
"Won't be long."
Cyd took a breath and placed a hand on the wooden door.
This'll hurt.
He pushed it open—not gently.
Clack.
The loud sound made Atalanta flinch where she sat on the bed, her wedding dress pooled like moonlight around her. She hadn't sensed him until the door swung. Not like her at all.
"You're here," she said quickly, nervously pulling her sleeves tighter. But her voice faltered when she saw what he was wearing.
"You…" she started, blinking. "You changed."
"What, surprised?" he said, stepping closer. "Thought you'd be doing the same."
"I don't understand."
Cyd sighed. The fire in her eyes—the one he'd been drawn to—was gone. If this had been the real Atalanta, she would've decked him for barging in like this. Maybe bitten him, too.
Instead… nothing.
With a dull thump, he shoved her back onto the bed. Not cruelly, but not delicately either. He pinned her wrists to the sheets.
Her eyes closed. His breath was warm against her cheek.
There it was—that line they weren't supposed to cross.
But strangely, there was no fear. No resistance. Just… stillness. A bitter trace of disappointment. A quiet warmth.
Satisfaction.
"You told me," he whispered into her ear, "that you didn't know what you were hunting anymore."
He leaned closer.
"Then hunt me."
Her eyes flew open.
But just as fast, he was off her. Standing.
"I'm leaving," he said, tone too casual for what had just happened. "Call it… a runaway groom cliché."
Atalanta stared at the ceiling, unmoving.
"It's not that you're not beautiful," he added, walking to the window. "You look like a real princess tonight. But that's just it—I liked you better when you weren't."
He turned with a grin. Not smug. Not mocking. Just… sincere.
"When you were wild. Proud. Untamed."
And with that, Cyd vaulted through the window and disappeared into the night.
Atalanta stayed still for a long moment.
Then she raised one arm and threw it over her eyes.
"…You really did it," she whispered.
Odd.
The bitterness, the regret—it was all gone. What was left was something warm. Something deep and full and hard to describe.
Satisfaction. Again.
And anger.
"I'll never forgive you for this," she muttered, a smile curling on her lips.
"You ended my doubts… just like that."
"Fine then, Cyd. I'll hunt you."
"Until we both fall to the Underworld."
At least there, I can finally be honest with myself.
Outside, silver moonlight lit the quiet courtyard. Cyd landed soundlessly on the stone, only to be met by a pair of silver eyes.
Artemis.
The goddess stared at him, arms crossed, long hair glowing like starlight.
"You're seriously leaving her like that?" she said, voice flat. "What kind of man does that?"
A murder of crows flew above them, just to punctuate the awkward silence.
"I mean… what was I supposed to do?" Cyd rubbed the back of his head.
"I don't know! Maybe something normal? Something—something men do! You were alone in a room! With a bride! On a bed!"
"And you're a virgin goddess. Should you really be giving me advice on that front?" he shot back, wide-eyed.
"She's my follower!" Artemis huffed, her cheeks going pink. "Of course I care!"
"…You were hoping I'd sleep with her," Cyd said slowly.
"I never said that!" she snapped. "I was just… hoping that if you did, she'd finally admit how she feels!"
He groaned. "That's not love. That's manipulation."
Artemis blinked. "Isn't that how it usually works?"
"No!" Cyd rubbed his temples. "Gods, no wonder Olympus is a mess."
She sighed. "Alright, fine. I may not get it. But… I do want her to be happy."
"So do I," Cyd replied quietly. "But her happiness shouldn't be decided for her. That vow she made—it matters. Not because it's a chain, but because it's a part of her pride. She needs to choose for herself. Not just fall into some story the gods write."
Artemis stared at him, lips parted slightly.
"…You're not like the others," she said at last.
"Nope." He smirked. "Don't lump me in with the rest of your dad's sidepieces."
She laughed—light, real. Then reached out and touched the bracer on his arm. A glow spread from her fingertips.
A new crystal locked into place, shining silver.
"My blessing," she said. "For doing things differently."
Cyd looked down at it, eyebrows raised. "Wow. This is kind of broken."
She winked. "I am Zeus's favorite, you know."
Then, lowering her voice, she leaned in.
"So… if love isn't tied to that stuff… then what do you think of me?"
Cyd choked. "You're joking."
"I'm serious," she said, finger raised and all.
"I'm—uh—I'm very young," he said, backing away slowly. "Also, I enjoy not being struck by lightning. Or being turned into a deer and shot."
Artemis gave a little pout, then grinned.
"…You'll be fun to hunt, too."