Prasie for

Lion's Heart

"A story to get lost in: Lion's Heart is everything you want out of a story."

–Tyler Michael Jacobs, 5th year SHP Creative Writing Instructor

To the Mort to my King Julian

We’re all the villain in someone’s story, we just don’t like to admit it. All except for Romulus Evander that is, he knew he was the villain to many stories, just not his own. No one remembered a time before his rule and many doubted they would live to see the end, especially if Emperor Romulus had anything to say about it. He ruled with an iron fist and a tongue of fire, no one was safe from his fury, not even his wives. He couldn’t keep one for long and while everyone, peasant to nobleman, knew why no one ever questioned his will or his way. In his eyes he was god, in the eyes of those he ruled he was a demon, and to those outside of his cage he was a cautionary tale as to what happens when your heart turns away from love and begins to lust for power.

…

Apollon Balauzar, the famed general of the Evander empire, woke up with a start.  His light brown skin, a sickly texture, and sweat drenching his clothes, yet another disagreeable dream. Not unlike the other ones that plagued his sleepless nights. At this point he should be accustomed to them, the nightmares being the only part of life he truly got to experience. Antonis, the true general, got to experience the rest. The sun was not yet up, so Apollon found the chamberstick and matches that had been discarded by his bed the night before. With steady hands, he lights the candle resting in the middle. Apollon looks around his now dimly lit room, like every morning. A large room with storm blue walls, dark walnut trim, and a matching brown brick fireplace. The only things in it are his rusted wire-framed bed and a small dresser, half empty except for the clothing that comprised his military uniform. There were five possible points of entry: the fireplace, two large doors, and two windows. The doors were engraved with the royal cress, a fist rising out of raging flames enclosed in a circle. One door was the main entrance and the other led to the connected bathroom. Along with the doors were two simple windows with white cotton curtains, one behind the bed and one in the bathroom. He ran his large fingers along the black stubble on his scalp, released the breath that gathered at his chest, and carefully rolled out of his cream-colored cotton sheets. As a classic military man should, Apollon made his sad excuse of a bed. While he did live in the palace and his room was quite grand compared to how he grew up. He wanted to live with the same belongings as the rest of his men or not at all. Apollon waddled over to his bathroom and pushed open the heavy door, cursing the sleep that still coursed through his veins. The door revealed a brick room with a porcelain tub, an empty clay chamber pot, two wooden pails full of water, and a tattered old towel hanging on the window. Apollon sets the chamberstick on the window sill and dumps the pails of cold water into the tub. He pries off his sweat-stained night linens, and he slowly eases himself into the tub. Not a moment later he hears an unwanted voice.

“Morning, sleepy head,” cooed a sly voice.

“Antonis, I have thirty more minutes, leave me alone please,” Apollon begged. 

A shaky knock echoes throughout the room, Apollon pitches his voice down and adds a slight gruffness.

“Who is it?” Apollon asks with all the authority he can muster.

“Is that your impression of me, pathetic,” laughs Antonis.

“Uh, sir, it’s the empress. She…uh…requests an audience with you,” mumbles a lowly squire.

Apollon lets out a long sigh and rolls out his shoulders. Denying the empress an audience would be just as good as hanging his own neck. He shuddered to think what would happen with the emperor.

“ Tell Her Majesty that I will be ready in only a moment.” 

“Uh…sir…um…that’s not going to work,” studders the squire.

“Balauzar I require your expertise on a certain matter, now,” softly stated the empress, like a mother soothing a child. 

“Are you sure she doesn’t need me, why would the empress ever need the help of a bumbling idiot like you?” jabs Antonis.

Apollon is too distracted by his current state to hear or comprehend what Antonis rambles about.

“Your Majesty, if you just give me a minute I shall be ready soon,” Apollon stammered, dropping his Antonis persona, his mind reeling. 

“ No Balauzar, whatever state you are in is suitable.”

Apollon froze, then as quick as he could he stood up, stepped out of the tub, and grabbed the towel off of the window sill. The door creaked open and Apollon quickly wrapped the towel around his lower section. 

“Your majesty,” Apollon says as he bows to the woman now in front of him. A soft woman, with curly brown hair laced with silver streaks, often tied up. But not now, not as she stood in front of him in an extravagant gold nightgown. She looked at Apollon with her piercing green eyes. 

“To whom am I talking to?” she inquires.

“Apollon,” he says, still looking down.

“Perfect, just who I needed. I have a quest for you to complete for me,” she says in a hushed tone. 

“I have twenty-eight minutes before he takes over, so you might want to hurry,” Apollon whispers, defeated. 

“Twenty-seven now,” sneers Antonis.

“Oh, I shall make haste then.” 

The empress then hands him a thick leather-bound book stuffed to the brim with loose papers and what looks like hand-scribbled notes. 

“This book shall explain to you what needs to happen, when I am gone,” The empress rushes. 

“Gone? What…” begins Apollon, but the empress cuts him off. 

In this short time, he finally takes a closer look at the empress’s clothes. On her beautiful golden nightgown, there’s mud and what Apollon assumed to be fresh blood on the hem. Her hair is also not just night tousled but has the addition of leaves. 

“I wish I had more time, but sadly I have been dealt a nasty hand. In the dungeons go free Iris Harmonia and Fauna Freya. They will fill in any questions you may have, and they will act as your companions on this journey.” 

“But…” the words are lost in Apollon’s throat. 

“I will be gone by sunrise Apollon, and His Majesty will have yet another wife’s blood on his hands,” She says with a somber tiredness in her eyes.

“Why do you still treat him with respect after all of the awful things he has put you through?” Apollon asks, anger rising.

“Oh, what hearsay! The things I could get you in trouble for, if only we didn’t share the same body,”  Antonis dreams out loud. 

“He still has good in him, and I think he can be saved,” the empress amends, “if not him I want this empire to have at least a grain of hope.” 

She presses a plump hand to Apollon's cheek. In her eyes he found a dam ready to break, she still had life to live.

“I could save you if we just…” 

“No, it is too late for me, besides I will only slow you down,” reassures the empress. 

“How noble,” Antonis interjects lazily. 

Apollon leans into her warm touch.

“The winds will guide me home Apollon, and I will be waiting for you in the clouds with your mother. I love you and she would be bursting with pride to see what her little boy has grown to be,” she reassures him. 

“Yeah, pride is one word you could use,” cuts in Antonis. 

“I will not let you down Your Majesty,” promises Apollon, the strength of his tears stabbing his eyes.

“Please, call me Aunt Minerva one last time.”

“I won’t let you down Aunt Minvera,” he amends.

“What a softy.”

“That’s my boy.” 

Minerva gives Apollon a light kiss on the forehead and looks him in the eyes one more time, dedicating each inch of his face to memory. All Apollon can do is stare at his aunt in shock. 

Minerva walks out of the bathroom with her usual learned confidence, taking the less confident squire with her.  Apollon said a silent prayer for his aunt’s soul and looked at the preloved book in his hand. 

“First, find Iris Harmonia and Fauna Freya,” He says to no one but himself.

“It’s almost like you forgot your complete lack of clothing,” informs Antonis. 

“Right clothes first,” says Apollon looking down, finding only his old towel shielding his naked body from the outside world. 

“Twenty-two,” taunts Antonis.

Ignoring Antonis, Apollon goes back into his bedroom and picks out the first uniform he sees in his dresser. A pair of black cotton socks, freshly polished leather boots, and a matching pair of tweed trousers. Along with a black tweed button-up with a stiff collar and images of fire stitched in bold colors along the sleeves. 

Apollon dresses with the swiftness of a soldier used to the labors of every day. Adding on his belt complete with a sword and sheath. 

His sword, known throughout the land as Liontheos, was given to him by the emperor as a demonstration of his ownership over the Balauzar name and any kills that may come from it. The blood spilled by its silver blade, the same color as the rubies on its golden handle.

“Better hurry Apollon.”

The one warning of Antonis he actually heeds. 

He shoves Minerva’s book into his enchanted pant pocket and races out of the door and into the hallway. He races down the dimly lit hallways not yet filled with the light or chatter of day. Past floral arrangements made of burgundy roses, past polished ivory columns, and portrait after portrait of the imperial family and those of the past. 

  “Fourteen,” Antonis counted down.  

Apollon forced his body to stop as he reached the dusky spiral staircase of the dungeon. As he began his descent he heard a blood-curdling scream filled with pain. At that moment everything in him screamed to go the other way, but he pushed forward for his aunt. As his feet hit the cement ground of the dungeon, guards turned to stare at the powerful man before them, unable to move from their spot due to protocol. But it wasn’t only the guards that stared at him, because as he passed he saw grimy faces turn to look at him through the ferrumus bars. Every cell and restraint was made of ferrumus, a power-dampening and power-resistant metal created by the emperor's alchemists. Made to ensure that all prisoners, from troll to shifter, were safely imprisoned. The only way to be free of the ferrmus restraints is to be freed by one of the military officials loyal to the Evander throne, but only certain guards are allowed to open the cell.

But from the sound that echoed through the dungeon, Apollon doubted that the metal was doing its job. He turned left and right trying to track down the source, then he finds at least where he suspected it came from. 

Two guards station in front of a cell in uniforms almost like Apollon’s own but without the fire embroidered on the side. One guard is gagging, as the other is holding onto the side of his head as blood runs down his neck. Looking into the cell he finds the pitch-black orbs of Iris Harmonia staring right back at him, blood stuck in her fang and running down her pale scaly chin, onto her dungeon-issued cream-colored linen clothes. But the infamous con artist’s hands still held secure in her ferrumus shackles, above her head.

“Open this cell,” Apollon orders the uninjured guard.

“Yes, sir,” the guard complies with a simple bow of the head. 

The guard holds up his hands and the bars of the cell glow the color of a dying sun, and recede to let Apollon inside and then fuse back together. 

“I’ve never been the spectator of an interesting event, let the games begin,” chuckles Antonis. 

“Well, good morning sweetheart. Come to play like your friends over there,” Iris teases nodding to the guards, and then looking over to the bloodied discarded ear in the corner of her cell. Apollon follows her gaze. Before Apollon can think better of it, he touches his own ear, not wanting it to also be taken away.

“You fool, you let her see too many of your cards,” reprimands Antonis.

Iris smiles satisfied with his response. She tips her head to the side, and her stark white hair flows over her shoulder. 

“Aw, sweetheart. Don’t touch the shark if you don’t want to be bitten,” her smile fades at the end of her sentence. 

She licks the blood from her teeth, then retracts her fangs, letting her teeth return to their natural herbivorous shape. Apollon suppresses a shiver and straightens his spine.

“Ten.”

Brain working quickly, Apollon comes up with a small lie.

“The empress requires your skill set for a mission.” 

“So I’ve been told,” Iris responds with a sly smile. 

Apollon yanks at the chain on the wall, the chain glows and wraps around his arm. Granting him temporary control over Iris or at least her location. Iris hisses at the burning sensation the shackles send through her body. 

“Easy there, don’t fry off my hands,” Iris reprimands.

Apollon nods to the guard to let them out, and the guard tiredly waves his arms and lets them out.

“Where to now,” Iris continues.

“We have one other stop to make,” Apollon answers. 

“To our little friend?” Iris inquires.

Apollon nods in response.

“Let me lead the way then,” 

With that Iris walks through the dungeon, navigating it as if it was her own home. With her only being in there for two weeks Apollon was impressed. 

They stop in front of a cell that wasn’t unlike Iris’s own, the only major difference being one guard instead of two. Fauna Freya looks up at them, through dark pine braids, with soft golden eyes. Ones that match the golden freckles that kissed her round ebony-colored face. Golden circle spectacles lying on her thick nose. A shining smile lights up her face.

“My little rainbow!” Fauna squeals with glee.

“Don’t call me that,” Iris scowls. 

Apollon turns to the sleep-deprived guard.

“I need this prisoner on behalf of the throne.” 

The guard grunts inaudible words and waves his hands unenthusiastically. As the bars disappear Fauna does a little dance against her restraints. 

Apollon, with Iris still in hand, walks up to Fauna. 

“You’re going to dislocate my arm if you keep yanking it like this,” complains Iris.

Apollon ignores her and takes Fauna’s restraints, lighting up the dark cell. 

“Oh, that doesn’t feel nice,” she says as the shackles shortly burn her.

“Seven,” Antonis says in a sing-song voice.

“I’m sorry, but we really have to go now,” Apollon frantically states.

Fauna gets up with a grunt.

Apollon looks to the guard, finding a shocked look on his face.

“What?” Apollon asks.

“Sir, did you just apologize?” the guard responds. 

As Apollon realizes his mistake, his stomach drops. 

“Sorry isn’t in my vocabulary, did you forget that?”

“Open this cell, what I say or do is none of your business,” Apollon snaps.  

“I don’t get paid enough to make it my business, so sure,” retorts the guard as he raises his hand and lets them out. 

Apollon walks with Fauna and Iris in hand, Fauna falling slightly behind the others, due to her uncontrollable limp. They all but make it to the stairs before Apollon starts into a dead sprint on the polished marble floors of the castle. 

“Drag us along the floor why don’t ya,” Iris complains as she stumbles to catch up. 

“It would be easier to run if you just let us go,” Fauna suggests from the floor, as her legs couldn’t keep up with the pace that Apollon had set. 

“No, not yet!,” Apollon asserts. 

They hear footsteps rush up the dungeon stairs. 

“Let us go,” Iris bites out pulling against her restraints, only earning a painful zap in turn. Apollon tones out her voice as he takes turn after turn, trying to find the right exit of the castle. 

“Hey, uh, hey, stop in the name of His Majesty and his empire,” yelled a guard across the empty hallway. 

“Run faster please,” begged Fauna.

“Or let us go!” forcibly suggests Iris. 

Apollon continues to run, while Iris struggles to keep up behind him and Fauna gets dragged along the floor. 

He hears the guard’s booth hit the ground running after them, and soon after that more join him. 

“They’re gaining on us!” Fauna yells, a slight quiver entering her voice.

“Two.”

“I can’t go back,” Fauna continues, a cry in her voice.

Apollon finally reaches the castle entrance and pushes through, deeply breathing in the fresh air that greets him.

“Ow, my hair!” Fauna cries, tugging on the braid jammed between the heavy walnut doors. Apollon draws his sword, with the hand attached to Iris, and walks as close to Fauna as he can.

  “Don’t you dare,” snaps Iris, as she tries, with one hand, to open one of the doors. 

“Watch out, please,” Apollon resheaths his sword and opens the door himself. Meeting the faces of guards sent to hunt them down. He slams the door on their faces, and leans against it, blocking their attempt at advancing. With unexpected strength, Fauna hands him a large branch from the soft grass, that she hit while being dragged through the doors. 

“For the door,” she clarifies to a confused Apollon. 

He slams it through the two door handles and turns to Fauna, who is now back on her feet, left a little shaken and bruised.

“There’s another person who is going to take over my body, he’s who everyone knows as the true general. I’m going to let you guys go. First, you have to run for the mountains, but then you have to promise to help me get my body back,” Apollon begs. 

As his final act, Apollon wills the binds on the shackles to undo.  

“My turn.”

…

Apollon always hated this part of the day the most, losing his freedom. He should be used to it by now, but how can you get used to seeing your life happen but not be a part of it? 

He opens his eyes to find Iris and Fauna staring at him confused. 

“Uh…hello, anyone home?” Fauna asks kindly. 

The door bulges behind them with the force of the men on the other side trying to get through.  

“Hello little creature,” Antonis coos, grasping one of Fauna’s braids in his fingers. Fauna’s eyes widen in fear.

“Ew no, not today,” Iris says, as she slugs Antonis over the head with a rather large branch, Twin to the one they just shoved through the now straining door. 

…

“Dirt, grass, and all things holy! What did you do to him!?” Fauna exclaims, backing away from the unconscious Balauzar body. 

“Hit him with a branch, we have fifteen minutes give or take. Now let's get him, and us, out of here,” Iris says nonchalantly.

“How are we supposed to get out of here alone, let alone with the general of the Evander army,” Fauna panics. 

“Easy, we have our powers back, so…” 

Iris stops at the annoyed look on Fauna’s face.

“This is how we landed ourselves in jail in the first place Iris,” Fauna whisper-yells. 

“No that was with the governor of Tellervon, not a general. We also weren’t breaking out of a castle, we were breaking into a library!” sighs Iris.

“Yeah, so the stakes are higher!” 

The door bulges, making a loud creaking sound. 

Fauna looks at the body between her and Iris and then back at the door. She inhales deeply. 

“I have a feeling I’m going to regret this.” 

Fauna takes a step back and gathers all the strength she can, closes her eyes, and shifts. Her muscles and skin contort. Changing herself from her small Fauna form to a mighty dragon. A dragon with shining forest scales and the same brilliant golden eyes. Fauna using her snout, flips the Balauzar body onto her back. Then she turns her powerful head and lets out a long huff to Iris. 

Iris takes this as her invention to hitch a ride and hooks her leg over the flank of Fauna’s dragon form. She finds Balauzar’s sword, Liontheos, and takes it from him, just in case.

As they leap into the sky, the castle door gives way and a small group of dungeon guards come stumbling out of the castle onto the well-kept lawn, lit by the sun slowly coming up over the mountains. 

Fauna heads straight for the nearest cluster of mountains. 

…

After what felt like hours, but realistically could only have been a few minutes, they make it to their destination and find camp nestled in the small valley that connects four mountains covered in lush grass and wildflowers of every color imaginable. But most importantly for Iris, the valley features a clear stream filled with rocks and rainbow-colored fish. 

Iris dismounts, dragging the Balauzar body with her. Iris lands gracefully, with the confidence of someone who has done it many times. The body on the other hand hits the ground with a thud. With a faint gold glow, Fauna returns back to her normal form. 

“Well, I guess we got another fifteen minutes,” Iris states with a shrug, as she rolls up her linen pants. She hands Fauna Liontheos and steps into the stream.

“Iris, we need him in one piece and preferable in whatever a stable state of mind looks like for him,” Fauna complains. 

Then Balauzar shoots up from the ground, dirt caking, his face and his whole general front side. Balauzar screams and then freezes. 

“What am I doing here?” demands Antonis, trying to wipe off the dirt that clings to his body, but failing miserably. 

“And you say I’m the weak one, sure,” teases Apollon.

“I’ll tell you what you’re not doing here, being conscious, give me the other one,” Iris snaps, grabbing a hefty rock out of the stream and waving it around in a threatening manner. 

“How do you know which one I am?” slyly asks Antonis.

“You look like you smelled a dirty old troll fart, and the other one looks like the troll just punched him in the face. It’s really not that hard,” answers Iris with her usual confidence. 

“How dare…”

“Yeah, Yeah, how dare I, do I even know who you are?” Iris mimics Antonis sarcastically. 

Apollon laughs as if he has never heard anything as funny in his life.

“If you’re going to be offended at least be original about it, I want the other one back,” Iris continues, still waving the rock around with authority.  

Antonis looks between Iris and Fauna, finding the latter just as set as the former. 

“Fine,” Antonis concedes. 

Antonis sits down on a rock and relaxes his body.

Apollon wills his soul to take over his body.

Air fills his lungs, he lays down against the cool rock and looks up at the sky all pale color still waiting for the sun to take its rightful place. 

“Yay! It worked!” cheers Fauna, doing her own little dance, yet again.

“For now,” Antonis threatens.

“Fauna, we should probably tell him now,” Iris somberly consults. 

Fauna only nods. 

“Tell me what?” asks Apollon. 

Iris takes a seat on a rock next to Apollon, and Fauna follows suit on his other side. 

“Apollon there’s no easy way to say this, but…” Fauna starts, but Iris stops her

“How does she know your name?” Antonis asks, truly shocked. 

“We’re going to have to cut your heart out,” Iris states bluntly.

“What!” 

Apollon jumps to his feet, and takes a few steps back, ready to bolt if needed.

“The empress, Minerva, approached us one day and asked…”

“More like begged,” Iris interjects.

“Fine, begged for our help. She had been searching over the past year to find a way to save her dreaded husband and his awful empire,” Fauna continued.

“Awful is one word to describe it.” 

“Anyways,” Fauna says pointedly, and Iris puts her hands up in mock surrender. 

“She found some text detailing a warrior to come. A warrior split in two, that would bear the Lion’s Heart.” 

Fauna pauses trying to find the words to say.

“She hired con artists, thieves, pirates, and any other creature willing to go on a search for this foretold warrior. She failed for a long time to look at what was right under her nose the whole time,” 

Fauna’s head dips and she takes another deep breath.  

“She failed to realize that her nephew’s big secret could be more than just a physiological abnormality caused by some buried childhood trauma,”  Iris fills in the unspoken gaps. 

Fauna looks back up and continues.

“All this to say, according to the text, the warrior with the Lion’s Heart must give up their first life to restore the land.” 

“First life?” Apollon asks.

“Yeah, we don’t know much about that either, according to Minerva, the rest of the imperial text relating to this subject was burned a long time ago. Go figure right,” Iris answers to the best of her ability. 

“But the book that Minerva left you, has all the information about the Lion’s Heart and your life up to now that you could ever need, just in case,” Fauna adds.

Apollon touches the book that somehow through all the chaos remains in his pocket.

“This seems like a trap,” interjects Antonis.

In the distance, there’s a faint sound of neighing. All three heads turn to try and find the source of the sound. 

“Must be trouble,” Iris concludes.

“I’ll go check it out,” Fauna reassured them.

Fauna reassumes her dragon form and takes for the sky, leaving behind a shocked Apollon.

“She can do that!” 

“Oh, yeah she’s a shifter, forgot to tell you. Oops,” shrugs Iris as she draws circles in the water. 

Fauna returns in a rush and quickly shifts back.

“The imperial guard is on their way, we need to hurry!” she says frantically.

“So what’s it going to be, oh great warrior,” Iris teases trying to defuse some of the tension.

“Don’t do this Apollon, you are a smart boy…man, you’re a smart man.”

Antonis’s words echo in Apollon’s head.

He looks to Iris and then to Fauna, their eyes so filled with hope that it almost hurts.

“I’ll do it.” 

“You fool!”

Fauna grips him into a tight hug, taking Apollon by surprise.

“Thank you,” she sobs into his shoulder.

Iris grabs him by the arm and takes him to the middle of the grassy landing.

“So, um, all you have to do is stab yourself and I’ll do the rest. Easy enough right?”

“Uh, sure.”

Apollon lays down on the dew-covered earth, unsure of what to really do.

“Oh, you’ll need this,” Fauna squeaks, handing Apollon the ruby-encrusted handle of Liontheos.

Apollon nods at her, unable to speak. 

He looks up at the sky for possibly the last time. 

The sun has finally found its rightful spot.

 He closes his eyes to soak it up, and after a moment he lifts his blade high above his chest, his heart, and drives it down.

“NO!”  

Acknowledgments 

Thank you to my family for always supporting my writing, even if I don’t let you read it. 

Thank you to those who tell me “no” for making me strive to be better.

Finally, thank you to the Summer Honors Program for the opportunity to be myself in a safe and encouraging environment, and the Creative Writing class for understanding my brain vomit, even if I don’t fully understand it myself. Thank you for making me laugh until I cry and cry until I laugh. I might say this every year, but you guys have changed my life for the better and I am eternally grateful for that.