"You burned a room in my palace," he says.

They nod.

"Yes."

"And do you understand what that means?"

They glance at each other briefly, a silent exchange passing between them, before looking back at him.

"We were only having fun."

The honesty of it is what shifts everything.

They are not defiant.

They are not cruel for the sake of cruelty.

They simply do not understand.

Achilles studies them for a long moment, then lowers himself slowly to one knee, bringing himself to their level in a movement so unexpected that even Elias falls silent behind me. The entire corridor seems to still, as if the walls themselves are unsure how to react to the sight of a king kneeling before anyone.

His voice changes not softer, not gentle, but clearer, more deliberate, shaped in a way meant to be understood.

"You destroyed something that does not belong to you," he says. "You created a situation where someone could have been hurt. If the fire had spread, it would not have stopped at this room. It would have reached people servants, guards people who had no part in your actions."

The girls' expressions shift. It is subtle, almost imperceptible, but I see it. The understanding begins to settle, slow and heavy, replacing the calm certainty they had before.

"...we didn't mean to hurt anyone," one of them says quietly.

"That does not matter," Achilles replies. "Intent does not erase consequence."

Their fingers tighten around each other's hands. Tears begin to form, their composure cracking under the weight of something they cannot yet fully name but are beginning to feel.

"...we didn't think about that," the other whispers.

"I know."

The tears fall freely now, their small shoulders trembling as the reality of their actions settles into something real. "We're sorry," they say together, their voices soft, unsteady, perfectly in sync.

Achilles watches them for a moment longer, then reaches forward and pulls them both into him, his arms wrapping around them with a firmness that is both grounding and protective. They cling to him immediately, burying their faces against him as they cry, their hands gripping his shirt as if he is the only thing keeping them steady.

"I am not angry because you are incapable," he murmurs, his voice low enough that it feels like it belongs only to them. "I am disappointed because you know better."

They nod against him, their tears soaking into his clothes.

"You will be punished," he continues, and though his tone remains calm, it carries the weight of something absolute.

They still, bracing themselves.

"You will spend the next week assisting the servants whose work you destroyed. You will clean. You will repair. You willfx your mistakes"

They nod immediately.

"Yes, father."

Achilles studies them, then slowly rises, bringing them with him as if they weigh nothing at all. They do not let go of him, their hands still gripping his as they look up at him, waiting for what comes next.

For a moment, his expression remains unchanged stern, unyielding but then, just slightly, it shifts.

Not into softness.

Not into gentleness.

But into something unmistakably his.

Pride.

"That being said," he says quietly, his voice lowering just enough to carry something sharp beneath it, "your execution was effective."

Elias chokes behind me.

"Do not encourage them!"

Achilles does not look at him. His gaze remains on the girls, and there is a faint, dangerous curve to his lips now a smile that is anything but kind.

"But there will not be another," he adds.

"Yes, father."

"Yes, father."

They speak together, their voices steady now, their tears already fading as they cling to his words like something to build on rather than fear.

And as I step closer, as their small hands reach for mine again, I cannot help but see it clearly.

They are his daughters.

Not just in blood.

But in mind.

In instinct.

In the quiet, dangerous way they look at the world—not as something to fear, but something to understand, to control, to reshape.

And yet, when Achilles looks at them really looks at them that cruel, unyielding king becomes something else entirely.

Not softer.

But...

Devoted.

In a way that makes even his cruelty feel like protection.

And for the first time, standing there between smoke and ash and the remnants of something they destroyed without understanding, I realize something that should terrify me.

The world should fear them.

Because one day

They will not just set fires.