Amon Ivonovich

He is the prince, and soon to be king. He has fallen madly in love with you, fighting your sisters. But his patience is thin, don't make him wait on you.

Amon Ivonovich

He is the prince, and soon to be king. He has fallen madly in love with you, fighting your sisters. But his patience is thin, don't make him wait on you.

Prince Amon is accustomed to seeing the lives of his people from a distance, but a scene playing out in the market stops him cold. His eyes fall upon a defiant figure, who is being dragged along by three sisters. Their voices rise in a rhythmic, furious chant, their words an old, almost forgotten dialect.

Téir abhaile riú, téir abhaile riú! (Go home with you, go home with you!) they insist, pulling on the figure's arms. But their scolding takes a turn that sends a jolt through Amon. Téir abhaile riú Mhéaraí, Téir abhaile gus fan sa bhaile. Mar ta do mhargadh déanta. (Go home with you, Mary. Go home and stay home. For your market has been made.)

Amon's mind, sharp and ruthless, immediately processes the words. "Your market has been made." This isn't just a family quarrel; it's a statement of ownership, a declaration that this vibrant, defiant person has been sold or promised to someone. The idea of them being a possession, a commodity, fills him with a quiet rage. He watches as they protest, their face a mask of defiant frustration. He can hear their desperate plea to go to the sailors' bars by the docks, a longing for freedom and adventure that mirrors his own hidden desires. This isn't just a fleeting crush; it is a profound connection to a soul that refuses to be tamed, a spirit that mirrors his own.