For many years Rhiane had been required to be strong. As Luke could almost certainly sympathize, had she ever brought up the topic with him and discussed it at length, being required to have emotional fortitude was a heavier burden than simply possessing it alone. An individual with aforementioned strength still had the freedom to have times of weakness without worrying about the devastating consequences about their lapses. They didn't have the pressure of supporting others indefinitely and maintaining a disposition without relief. As a child the princess elect had been opinionated, stubborn, and assertive, but the times she had come home crying when she was hurt, or when she had a fight with a friend, or been simply having a frustrating week that left her upset had not been earth-shattering. Violet Black, who laughed at her own married name, would hug her and sit with her on the front steps of their home while encouraging her to physically and figuratively lean on her. Gerard for all his faults would go out of his way to be nicer as well. Edwin would smile at her and kiss her forehead. Her father would tell her horrible jokes to try to make her laugh.

But those days were long gone. From the moment her mother fell ill Rhiane had become 'the strong one' out of necessity. Neither her father nor Gerard could handle tending to the sick and dying figures of the family matriarch and middle son. The former farmer had taken on more and more responsibilities. First she was a nurse cooking and cleaning for her patients, then an advocate trying to find a way for them to get life-saving medication, then their hospice that helped them to the bathroom, that sat by their beds watching them worsen, scrubbing away evidence of their failing bodies. Rhiane planned their burials, arranged for the simple headstones, and said a few words at the funeral because once again she was the only one that could bear it. When the farm started to fail she returned to staying up nights learning everything she could to take over management. She had confrontations with vendors and merchants, took control of very financial decision, and blazed the path back from the brink of bankruptcy, all while directing her father and eldest sibling and accommodating her needs.

It had been tiring but she did not resent them. Love had motivated her to participate in the contest for Luke's hand in marriage as it was the only way she could secure a future of stability for her remaining family. The tournament had demanded her strength to maintain her image, to succeed in the events, and to gain the favor and support of the public as well as the queen when she was victorious. She had not faltered. Rhiane had been proud of herself. Finally she could breathe a sigh of relief even if she had traded the yoke of the farm for that of being a princess elect, not having friends or confidants, not having any one that cared for her, with higher expectations, and everyone watching with baited breath for her to do anything wrong she could be severely punished for.

There was only so much anyone could take before breaking. Rhiane had to be strong so long that she had not felt the building tension as situations mounted growing tolls on her: the engagement ball's scandal with Sofia and twisted ankle, the pizza parlor's argument, the willful exposure to the cold on the private island, the device that kept her close to Luke, the poisoning, the implication she should make the prince follow the schedule, the feelings hidden in her chest, the sabotage and collision of their vehicle, and the ambush at the clinic. Watching the man die had been too much. The dead did not close their eyes as they shed their mortal coil. The lifeless stare of the would-be assassin as he fell to the floor had burned itself in her mind.

As Luke made his numerous phone calls she continued to gaze out with window without seeing the passing landscape. In her mind a film was playing in repeat without mercy. Two men rebels burst into the room, sneering and gloating, leveling their weapon at the couple as one of them advanced. A shot rang out as the younger of the two fell to the floor. Another took out the closer armed aggressor. There were sprays of blood from the high-velocity bullets striking their targets. Brain matter had splattered to one of the walls. Dark pools of dark red spread from the corpses. The silhouettes of Luke and Tobias faded from the recollections as she was left alone with the deceased, trapped, their presence haunting and torturing her in unspoken accusations. If Rhiane had never won the contest and ascended to her current position they would not have attacked, no one would have been in danger as she was their intended victim, and lives would not have met such a violent end.

The car rumbled to a rest and as Luke leaned across her to unfasten her seatbelt she belatedly realized they had traveled somewhere. Tobias had parked, shut off the engine, and made his way so quickly to her door that it stood out as strange past the fog of her detachment. Rhiane saw a pained expression erupt on Luke's face. It took her longer than it should have to process what had happened. The princess elect raised her hand and placed it on one of his shoulders briefly, an act of silent reassurance, before it limply fell back to her side.

"I'll take her inside, your highness," Tobias stated as he opened the door. Rhiane had visibly retreated back inside herself and did not respond to the offer. "The medical team is still en route but expected to arrive shortly. A room has been prepared in advance," he explained curtly. This was more for the benefit of his female charge than his cousin, but she did not acknowledge his presence, much less his words. The side of his mouth twitched slightly in concern and disappointment his efforts did not result in any change in Rhinae's affect.

Carefully and delicately Tobias scooped the princess elect up into his arms as he had done before, cradling her to his chest, before nodding to Luke politely. He was displaying proper etiquette but he was also a touch smug about this once not being compelled to give up a chance with Rhiane. The bodyguard may not be able to share a room with her, or wed her, but he still held hope things would change, and he savored each small win he had over the heir to the throne and his perceived indifference to his fiancee.

The villa was formally a part of a destination retreat for the wealthy nobility that wanted to 'escape' to an idyllic view of the mountains. Understandably the royals had commandeered the nicest and most lavish villa for their purposes and the company that owned it was compensated but not allowed on the premises for security reasons. The pair was escorted through the building, which was empty except for the arriving entourage, a single maid and a cook that had been cleared by the palace, to a sitting room. Furniture had been re-arranged, antique luxurious pieces strategically pushed towards the wall, and a single medical bed was now placed in the center. Two tables with plastic sheeting, meant to keep the surfaces sterile, were prepared for the supplies that were coming with the team that had been summoned to supplement the doctor.

"Your highness, I suggest that you are treated first," the doctor concluded. He knew Rhiane would be incredibly uncooperative, perhaps requiring sedation once again, and it was more effective to tackle the faster patient. There was also the slim chance that if the prince had his condition under control he might be able to prevent some of the hysterics and hostility that he had been unconscious for when the sling was first proposed.

Tobias started to lower Rhiane onto a nearby sofa. It didn't matter who went first; they still had to await the supplies and team en route that was at least another ten minutes away. Putting her somewhere comfortable seemed like the most kindness he could offer- and the best opportunity to keep her calm until the inevitable meltdown over the injections that would be forthcoming.