Stratya had been addressing the servant. The curious âhm?â that came from her as she turned should indicate that, âoh, well, if yerr nae fussed tae eat with thâ staff in thâ morrninâ. Got tae do somethinâ with all that brread, anyway. I rrememberr how dreadful some guard details can be, aye? At least then, yâ might get tae stand outside, instead of standinâ by anâ watchinâ. The castle guards âave it rrough, only able tae stand anâ watch all this food ân drrink.â
The varied skilled of Alidasht craftsmen interested the captain, and she found herself curious of what the man meant when he said requests were wildly varied in feasibility, but before she could really pose a question to him,
â... current state of dress is atrociousâŠâ
The swallow of mead sheâd just taken was the last, her lips shut and her stein tilted down,
â..mistake covered in flamboyanceâŠâ
Her stein lowered and was met with her left hand, holding it steady in front of her as she took a glance or two around the room. She could feel her cheeks flushing, and it wasnât the alcohol.
â..charlatan seamstress.â
Swords and arrows? Sure. Twenty men in battle? More? Fine! Making a bleedinâ fool of herself despite her station and all the necks stuck out for her?
She was blushing, embarrassed and disappointed in herself for having been so sloppy in her presentation this evening, â.. is it thaâ bad?â
Nik entered just after Ariella did. Where the music swelled for Ari, it almost dimmed for Nikolai. His name was offered with the air of enthusiasm his family afforded, which was little. Being mostly unknown was both a blessing and a curse for it meant Nik could walk about with little scrutiny, but it also meant he had to fight that much harder to be heard or seen.
His gaze swept over the room once, calm and deliberate as he made note of exits, potential threats, and the subtle shifts in attention that followed him like a shadow as he made his way further into the room. All he saw was a pair of ambitious viscounts, an incredibly desperate baroness, and a gentleman who was already calculating dowry figures from across the floor. Satisfied that he hated all of them equally, he carried on, watching Ariella walk in front of him. He could sense the tension in her shoulders, weighing her down. He'd expected a prim and proper princess type, spoiled and mostly rotten, but he'd gotten someone with a lot more depth to her. He wasn't sure yet if that was preferable or not.
He lingered towards the edge of the room, where the air was a bit cooler and the smiles less rehearsed. His duty right now was proximity, not suffocation. Close enough to intervene but far enough to breathe. Or at least pretend to.
A passing servant caught Nik's eye, a young woman with striking black hair balancing a tray of delicate glasses. A smirk grew on his lips for a moment as he positioned himself to step into her path along her blind spot.
"Careful," He murmured, one hand lifting to steady the tray. His gaze flicked to hers, warm with amusement. "I'd hate to be responsible for a tragedy before the night has even truly begun."
She blinked, startled before recovering with a polite and practiced smile. "My lord."
"Ahh, not so formal." Nik started, tusking as he shook his head, "It makes me feel as though I should behave." There was the faint hint of a laugh, quickly suppressed, as he leaned in a little closer. "Tell me... Do they keep anything in this place that doesn't taste like sugared regret?"
The servant's lips pressed together, fighting a smile. "I'm afraid the selection is... appropriate for the occasion."
"A tragedy after all, it seems." He sighed, though his eyes gleamed as the cogs in his mind turned for a way forward. "But perhaps you might take pity on a man clearly unsuited to such a delicate offering." He offered, motioning towards himself.
"And what would that pity look like, sir?" She asked, quieter but clearly amused by him.
"Something stronger." His tone warmed and slipped into something almost sincere. "Something that burns."
Her gaze lingered on him a moment, and Nik waited, watching her expressions. Then, with a small, almost imperceptible nod, she adjusted her grip on the tray. Success.
"I might be able to find something," She spoke, lifting her head to look at him more fully. "If you're willing to wait."
Nikolai smiled and pressed in a little closer, lifting a hand to her cheek. "For you? I find myself remarkably patient."
She moved on, the faintest trace of color on her cheeks as Nikolai straightened and took in a breath. He rolled his shoulders as if settling back into something and let his gaze drift around the room again. Ari was speaking with a group and seemed okay, all things considered. His eyes narrowed on the blonde woman she was speaking with. She seemed somewhat familiar but he couldn't place where. He shrugged, turned and spotted someone he'd been meaning to chat with again.
A sly smile grew on his lips as Nikolai made his way over to Stratya and the rather tall man next to her. From the vibes alone, he didn't seem all that impressed with her and she seemed... slightly uncomfortable. With the air of a man who felt confident in his own skin, Nikolai began to walk over to the two, intent on helping his poor knight friend. Or at least intent on knowing what was being said there.
"Captain Durmand!" Nik called out, walking up behind the knight. He slid in beside her and gave her a knowing smile. "Fancy seeing you here." He added with a soft chuckle. "And this is...?" He asked, motioning to the man she was speaking with. Gods was he tall....
Time: Evening Location: Carriage->Castle Ballroom- Starry night ball Interactions: @princess Marina, King Eding [@reusabblesword] Roman @authentictomb Sylvia Mentions: @potter Persephone/Olivia, Charlotte
This morning, there was no sun, only heavy clouds that left the kingdom covered in a grim and dreary overcast. There were no smiles or laughter; joy slept in shadows while fear and anger roared rampantly, freely, amidst the massive gathering of the courtyard.
The bell rang with haunting clangs made to spread all throughout, heads turned to or away from the harrowing sound. A signal of dark cruelty draped as justice and righteousness; a churchly figure who spoke of assurance, of order to purify an evil that threatened the kingdomâs safety.
People shuffled close together with murmurs of unease, discomfort, and some whispered excitement and curiosity, those who agreed with the execution, but all waited anxiously in nervous quiet, unable to do little else but be silent observers to the queenâs last moments of disgrace and shame.
And all for what? Over a minor and harmless demonstration of magic with a purpose that carried no ill or capability to hurt. Yet, there on the balcony, the king stood by while the woman he touted to love was dragged and humiliated, her dignity given no quarter or mercy as the queen stood, waiting, condemned to burn; what little sense of order, of normality would die with her, and so would the love of magic, made the scapegoat amongst all this unjustified folly.
And with them, any that carried such a wondrous gift unfairly were cursed to follow in her grim fate, were they to be discovered, hunted down like rabbits abandoned by the very laws meant to protect them.
A harrowing thought that burned through Kazuminâs mind as he stood with trembling hands balled up into such tight fists the knuckles poked visibly through the gloves, threatening to rip through with barely restrained rage.
He stood there, forced to endure witnessing the despicable display, dressed in black funeral garb; despite the looks and Asterothâs concerns, he didnât care for him; this was a funeral, and to treat it as anything else would be an unbearable insult to their queen. A harsh hand pressed about his shoulder, prompting the cowlicked blonde to lift his gaze to his left, to Asterothâs stern bearded face, his expression cold and difficult to read.â Enough. How long do you intend to shy away, Mr. Nagasa? Lift your head and watch. Our job is to bear witness till the condemned is tried and finished to its end.â The baron demanded in strained words that hinted at his own misgivings, but he gave nothing else away.
A firm shove of the hand sent him forward a step, which Kazu partially resisted; burning daggers at the man, he glared with flared nostrils, his mouth curled in rage, lacking the cheeky grin that tended to accompany him wherever he went. Here, beneath the suffocating bleakness, he could feel nothing but disgust, and his face displayed it with visible fury.
Kazu glowered at the man, detested him for dragging him to this farce of a trial where no truth or justice were present, and now they, the people, were made to be complacent in this innocent damnation.
Staring back, unshaken, Asteroth leaned closer.â Hate me if you must, but for the sake of your friend's safety, you will watch. Think what the king will think were he to see you expressing such clear disdainâŠdo you wish to lose what little favor you have garnered from him?â
Hearing those words had Kazu reluctantly relent his fuming glare, the disgust still unmistakable in his gaze.
â And do not forget, however furious or ill you feel, think of the princessâŠlook.â An upward jerk of his head, which Kazu turned towards the balcony, and felt a rushing pang of great sadness upon taking in the sight of Princess Ani, who appeared to be barely holding herself together.â Think of what pain and grief she must be experiencing. If you wish to be able to help her, to be there for her as a friend, then you must bear witness, to share in this if you wish to hope to understand her grief.â The aged gentleman advised in a hushed, cool manner, then once more gave a shoving nudge of Kazuâs shoulder.
A frustrated grunting huff was the blondeâs response, though he did not resist this time as he let his sight linger on Ani through welled-up eyes; catching the moment she broke, attempting to claw and plead for her mother with woeful wails filled with an impossible sorrow that would break him to his knees were they not lost to the harsh howling winds as if the air cried with her or perhaps to cover her pitiful state.
An image equally unbearable to Kazu, who did not wish to see the amazingly kind princess in such dismay, and tore his eyes down to bear the fiery hellish visage of crackling orange flames enveloping its writhing, veiled victim within seconds.
There, he could do little else but stand and stare in horror and disgust as the shadowy outline writhed and a scream. The howls of the wind caught the worst of it, though, and did little to ease the horrific sight playing out before him. That, however, would pale compared to the smell. Gods, the smell made his nostrils and eyes burn as sounds of hurls merely added to the vile smog of burnt flesh and ash drifting off the crackling flame like sorrowful snow. Never had he had to battle so hard to fight his stomach back; a stubborn refusal to give in tore into the glove of his fist; crimson droplets dripped with silent pain and vitriol from his lip and squeezed hands, his stomach roiled in sheer disgust.
Just as the scene became suffocatingly hot while his body felt chill as ice, a touch to his trembling hand was felt; the gentlest of a warm caress that had him sharply turned with a surprised huff. He initially started to glare, startled by the unexpected sensation, but then a soothing squeeze signaled the unknown young ladyâs intent.
Kazu felt the furious shivering of his body melt away as the deafening pounding of his heart lessened, which had gone unnoticed until now. Realizing how close he had been to a panic attack and simply stared at the woman in confusion, studying her dark red hair like rich red wine and vibrant violet eyes with a starry twinkle that had him curiously vexed as he hardly saw many violet eyes. Most peculiar was the stark horizontal streak of freckles across her pale face, unbroken, almost as if a ray of sunlight had been etched across her cheeks.
He had no clue who she was or why she had chosen what she did, but he was immeasurably grateful she did. He wanted to thank her, to tell her he was there for her too, but his words turned to ash on his tongue, and he found himself unable to muster the strength to speak. And as his heavy breathing eased, he would see the disgusted grief etched on her face. An understanding sentiment to forego words for now was shared as his balled fist relented to return the soft squeeze to her hand.
Kazu gave a small nod and the weakest of smiles; all that he could manage then turned away with a sad huff, hating to see such another pretty face in such painful sadness, and doubted it would be his last this day.
He failed to learn the womanâs name at the time, though the striking features of her face would make recognizing her easy. An unfortunate place to have met another potential friend, he hoped that when he did, he could give his thanks.
Turning back to the gruesome burning, to find it was almost finished. All that remained was the remainder of the pole and the dying embers. Just a little more and they would be free of this, but his mind, cruel in its worry and fears, with his mind exhausted from plagued nightmares, found himself envisioning two different figures in his eyes. A nightmarish sight he loathed picturing, Charlotte on his left and Percy in his right eye; the potential hellish vision burned in his mind with agonizing concern. His hand squeezed tighter around the strangerâs, needing the subtle warmth to ground him, fearing the ground would give out beneath him.
Unable to bear any more, Kazu shut his eyes with the last of the embers dying in a dismal puff.
Silence followed in a shaky huff. An icy tear trailed down his cheek.
â - gasaâŠâ
A faint voice spoke, barely perceptible.
â -Gasa.â
Again, the voice spoke, with a subtle gruff huff, familiar.
â Mr. Nagasa!â
With a startled gasp, the darkness left his eyes with a blinding flash, giving his eyes a momentary sting. Blinking his eyes to clear his aching eyes, only to receive a second sting from Asterothâs glowering bearded face appearing abruptly inches from his own. Kazu elicited a surprised yelp as he reeled back, smacking the back of his head against the closed window of the carriage that continued to rock and roll onward beneath him.
A grumbled huff was Asterothâs response as he sat down with an indignant sputter.â Really now, Mr. Nagasa! Is it not enough that you have once again caused us tardiness? I do not care to tolerate such lateness due to your indecisions, but I shant have you sleeping through the ball. And certainly not while dressed in such paltry garb.â The grizzled man grumbled his disgruntlement towards the blondeâs failure to be dressed in proper wear and shook his head at the overalls sloppily covered up by the plain blue dress shirt sloppily thrown on.
Kazu groaned as he sat back up, rubbing the back of his head and wincing at the sting. All the while having to endure Asterothâs berating onslaught, going on like a braying pissed mule.â OwwâŠurgh, I wasnât sleeping, you grizzly-haired old mule!â The cowlick blonde muttered as he rubbed his head, easing the dazed fog clouding his mind, only realizing the disrespectful slight afterward and biting his tongue in regret.
A cold lift of the brow and a harsh, stern gaze.â Pardon?â He said cooly with a clear warning in his tone.
Wincing beneath the manâs fiery glare, Kazu let out a meek, awkward chuckle with an apologetic tilt of his head, hand still rubbing the messy blonde locks.â Er..heh, IâŠIâm sorry⊠sir.â He apologized with a tired, ashamed sag of his shoulders and head.â uh meant I wasnât sleepingâŠGuess I must have zoned out for a bit.â Kazu said with a half-hearted chuckle as he grappled to recall where he was, as things had mostly become a blur since this morning.
Asteroth studied his ward with an exasperated sigh as he shifted in his seat, hands adjusting around the tip of his cane with a relaxing grip.â Hmph, no matter your remark, though I advise a tighter hold of that tongue of yours. At least for the night, think you can manage that?â A dismissive wave of the hand with a tsk of the teeth.â The more pressing matter is that of your fit. I do hope you were able to find a suit? And one I dare hope proves nothing so gaudy as that obnoxious candy eye-sore you last wore.â Shaking his head, demonstrating his distaste.
Unpleasant memories of the day flooded in with the baronâs words; how he spent an hour sick in the bathroom when it was all done and over. He had refused to budge from the room during that time, and were it not for the damned ball, he may have spent the day there.â The ballâŠright..right. Ugh, cut me a break, not like we were given much of a heads up with only a few hours to get something together.â Kazu grumbled, rubbing at his temple, working to shake off some of the exhaustion and drowsiness.â And excuse me for hardly being giddy or excited to go partying the same day as the queenâsâŠ.â He started sarcastically but quieted as he went, struggling to finish, not wishing to relive this morningâs event any more than he had to. A brief respite, for he knew the kind of nightmares sure to plague him tonight.
The past week had been nothing but difficult days and restless nights, whether awake, where he spent keeping watch over Charlotteâs house, fearing witch hunters showing up at their doorstep. Or the endless nights with various horrid dreams; at times, it was returning home to find his family dead, pinned in place much like the dolls, or forced to watch Char and Percy dragged away in chains as he was held down by chains surrounded by shadowed witch hunters closing in, and all he could do was choke and gag, dragged to his knees. The worst of it had been of Percy bent over a dead body with black flamed tendrils writhing all about her, their crackling thrums obscuring her face; at times when the flames passed, he would see Persephoneâs face, then Olivia, shifting constantly, and through it all her face was hidden by the dark shadows, twisted. Dread covered him like a deathly veil as he tried to grasp whether she was crying or laughing, but the fiery tendrils burst out wildly whenever he attempted to get close, ending the dream.
There were more like those concerning the tavern incident, but he didnât wish to dwell on them too long. His visits to Charlotteâs, when he could manage them, were the only comfort he got, as Asterothâs estate had since become a cold and unwelcome space, his garden having been destroyed and desecrated, and growing colder with each passing day.
Shaking his head of the dreary thoughts and doing so, found himself thinking of his lunch with Char, a time they were able to forget their trouble with some fun competition and light-hearted chat. Brief as it was, it renewed his strength and reasons to carry on, hoping to share more experience with her and Olive. Though they had been recovering this past week, and Char had become busy with some unknown project which he didnât pry into, understanding she needed some time alone. And Olive, she had overextended herself too much, leaving most of the time spent in bed rest. Kazu was happy enough simply staying by her side, ensuring she was as comfortable as possible before inevitably needing to leave, not wanting to overstay his welcome nor be improper for the duke to let some unknown man over too often lest unsavory rumors start. There were times she declined his visits, which saddened and pained him, but he respected her space and kept lookout where he could.
Kazu slid his hands from his temple to rub against his face, expelling one last tired yawn, then gave his cheeks two smacks, dispersing the dark memories and exhaustion, and with it returned some color to his pale face, careful not to smudge the concealer. He hardly wanted to go around with shadowed eyes and visible bruises; thankfully, they were mostly faded by this point, making it simple enough to do without Sashaâs expert skills.
â Agggh..whew, alright! No more moping about!â The blonde stated aloud to himself, turning his gaze towards the gruff baron across from him, sporting a look of indignant impatience.â Oi! No more of that, cause much as Iâm against this whole thing, hardly anything is worth celebrating this night, but far be it from me to be a wet blanket, so I prepared something special.â
As he said so, Kazu leaned down to grab and lift a medium-sized briefcase that had been sitting on the floor beside him up onto his lap with a slight, strained grunt.â Seeing as I donât really have a choice, thought Iâd do something interesting to go along with the starry theme.â Nodding his head and patting the case with a pleased grin.â If I got to dance for the kingâs farce of a celebration, then Iâll have fun my own way. And this one, Iâm quite proud ofâŠcourse it wasnât easy with the short time given.â Coughing awkwardly against his closed fist, feeling bad over the delay brought about by his refusal to leave without the suitâs finishing touches.â B-but, the wait will be well worth it, I assure you, with the surprise I have in store!â Kazu assured with a pump of his arms, feeling some of his old enthusiasm returning.
At this point, he needed to focus only on the ball, and if the king expected him to sit back and let his bullshit decrees ruin and criminalize the splendor of magic, then it was only right to show these boring, stuck-up prudes the real magic of dance!
A curious tapping of the cane, Asteroth let loose a long, slow sigh, then lifted his off-hand to rub at the bridge of his nose.â So it seems some of thatâŠreckless spirit of yours has returned. Hard to say this is a good thing when it concerns you, Mr. Nagasa.â His eyes lowered, scrutinizing the cowlicked blonde and his case.â Though I cannot help but be concerned by whatever surprise you may have concocted, knowing the foolish antics you get up to.â With a twisting lift of the cane, Asteroth had pointed the hawk-tipped cane at his face in warning.â Do anything to disgrace my house or insult the kingâs honor, and know this will be the end of our arrangement.â The gruff older gentleman stated matter-of-factly, a promise.
Having the cane suddenly pushed in his face had him reel his head back slightly as he went cross-eyed, staring at the sharp metal beak of the hawk inches from his nose. Taking in what was said, Kazu sputtered, using his right index finger to subtly nudge the hawk a few inches from his face.â Disgrace you, moi?â Placing his other hand across his chest offended by such an accusation.â Iâm wounded, my lord, Iâm fine humiliating myself more than well enough, but another? Iâd never dare dream to disgrace you nor the kingâŠ.no need with the king having disgraced his wife and throne plenty and all before evening at that.â Shaking his head, fighting back a bitter chuckle before having the cane shoved against his nose, letting out a muffled wince.
â Cease such talk, unless you wish to find yourself in a cell or the next live demonstration, you will keep such jabs to yourself and hold that tongue of yours. I will not warn again.â He glowered at the farmhand, staring back with a challenging gleam, pressing the cane further against his face till he received an understanding grunt and reluctant shrug of the shoulders showing he got it. A lingering second before satisfied, the lord drew the cane from his face to rest back in his grip.
Once the cane was pulled away, Kazu sat forward, rubbing at his nose.â Fine, fine, ya wonât hear such talk from me anymore, promise.â He said begrudgingly as he slid the case from his lap onto the seat beside him.* But ya canât stop me thinking it, you stony cold bastard.* The blonde gave a small, defiant huff of his nose.
â Good.â Leaning back in his seat, making himself comfortable once more.â You may disapprove of all that has taken place today, but to speak it freely will only bring harm to you and your friends. Difficult as it may be to believe, I aim to protect you...even if it means from yourself and your stubbornness. A most troublesome trait you peasants seem to share, which may get you by in the country, but here? It will only lead to an early, pitiful demise, one of which I will have no part.â
Kazu sat there listening and scratching at his nose, indeed finding it difficult to believe the man, but kept it to himself, not wishing to argue with him. Too much to say and poor time to do so with tensions still high and emotions sensitive, especially when he has only just improved his mood for the sake of the ball.
Again, Asteroth studied him with subdued curiosity, expecting another biting remark or sarcastic comment; when none came, the gentleman shifted and turned partially to reach for a stack of newspapers set beside him, the papers rustled softly in his hand.â Seeing that some of your spunk has returned, perhaps now serves to show you this. It might do to give further reasons for you to participate in this event, an unpleasant rumor better learned in private than overhearing whispers from unknown strangers.â Extending his hand, holding it up for his ward to take.
Kazuâs brows raised with a quizzical, queer look as he glanced at the papers offered him.â Unpleas- What are ya talking about?â He stared suspiciously at the baron, whisking the papers from his hand with a quick swipe, where he scanned through their contents with a nervous scrutiny.â I donât know what youâre on about, it's mostly stuff about this morning and the usual fluf-â Trailing off upon finding a portion mentioning Charlotte.
Many witnesses all agree they saw Lady Charlotte Vikena almost throw herself off the balcony at the first ball of the season. Luckily, Count Damien was there to stop her.
His eyes widened reading the snippet, and he felt a weight drop in his stomach as he suddenly jumped up in shocked disbelief, shouting,â What?!â A harsh thump followed by a pained yelp rang out as he bumped his head against the carriage ceiling, leaving his eyes watering and his head swimming. Dropping back onto his seat with a pained grunt, the papers sat crumpled against his left knee while his right rubbed the freshly stinging bump.â Gah damn it! that smarts! And what the hell is this?! This canât be true, can it?! No way Char would attempt such a thing..Would she?â He frowned with uncertainty, wanting to believe this to be like Asteroth said, a mere rumor, but it was hard to be sure; did Olive know of this? Trying to think if sheâd bother to read the paper and considering her lack of reaction to the execution, he had to guess she hadnât. He couldnât help but gulp, disturbed at the prospect, and the only way to be sure was to ask Char about it and posthaste before a possible misunderstanding spread, and like wildfire it might. Gods, if Olive heard of it unprepared or without her friends around, she could take it poorly; this only compounded the horrid news he would have to break to the woman, but she was in a sensitive state as of late and worried that hearing it randomly might cause unintended trouble.
His foot began tapping impatiently as he leaned forward with anxious energy, crumpling the newspaper between his hands with an antsy bob of his knees.â Damn it, and here I went and wasted too much timeâŠcome on, we got to get this rickety old thing mo-â As he prepared to ask Asteroth to command the driver speed up, did he catch notice of a flower shop in the corner of his eye and without warning had jumped to his feet.â ]Oi! Stop the carriage!â The frantic blonde shouted in haste.
Despite the order not given by the lord baron, the sudden loud shout spooked the driver to abruptly pull the rolling vehicle to a stop, with an annoyed nicker from the horses who were stamping their hooves with agitated huffs.
A frustrated huff rushed from the disheveled Asteroth, nearly knocked from his seat.â What in the bloody blaze are you doing?!â The Baron growled, pushing and shuffling his way back onto his seat with a displeased scowl.â Have you lost your mind? Prattling about making haste, then next you bounce about demanding we stop? There had better be a good explanation for your erratic behavior, or so help me..â The man fumed at the blonde, wielding his cane in a threatening manner, clearly not having any of this nonsense.
Kazu cringed with guilt as he started stepping backwards towards the door, waving his hands in apologetic prayer.â Sorry, sorry, I know Iâve delayed us enough, and believe me, I want to get there post haste! But..but uh thereâs something I need to get, the last piece I sorely need, without it my suit wonât be complete.â Turning partway towards the door and kicked it open while continuing his pleading.â Iâll be super quick. Just gotta grab one thing, in and out, then we can race off to the castle with no more delays, promise!â Kazu then rushed out of the carriage before the baron could respond, hearing muffled curses behind him as he all but sprinted into the shop with a determined, frantic haste, nearly knocking some potted plants over upon entering, and just barely grabbed them before they could topple over.
A surprised gasp came from behind the counter where the woman, who looked to be in her early 40âs, possibly late 30, was running the shop, had been tending and preening some daffodils when the strange blonde-haired man burst in with a loud clang of the doorbell. A startled hand rested on her chest in fright, afraid she had nearly broken pots. Relief softened her worried expression, seeing the young man prevent his own tumbling at the last second.â What on earth?â Was all she managed to get out.
Kazu gave a sheepish laugh as he fixed the pots back in place.â Er, sorry about that, miss. Iâm uh, kind of in a rush, so I donât want to take up too much of your time.â He stood up quickly, adjusting the overshirt while walking in awkward haste towards the counter, where he stopped with a cough into his fist.â I just need to make a quick order, then Iâll be out of your hairâŠby the way, your flowers all look stunningly gorgeous. Oh! Mind if I have one of those flower cards and a pencil as well? Got a note I need to make out.â Nodding his head in unintended overzealous fashion as he stood there, flashing his most charming smile, his fingers gently drummed against the counter.
The heraldâs voice rang out with a simple orchestra that briefly broke through the chatter.â Lord Baron Asteroth Hugonin!â
The man strode in with a casual practice pace, the soft thunk of a cane with every other step, as it came to a halt just before the steps. Asteroth stood with a dignified pose, his chin partly lifted as he scanned the star-dazzled hall with a raise of his right hand, giving a quick, practiced wave done countless times. Wearing a simple buttoned dress suit with minor elegant blue trimmings. His dark black dress shoes shifted subtly as he peered back over his shoulder with a faint, irritated huff.
Maintaining his stern expression had increasingly proved difficult; quite irate beneath the surface, as he could only hope that the blonde oaf wouldnât tarry too long at the carriage, the fool only now getting change. A mercy their carriage was one of the last few remaining, gods forbid anyone saw such an undignified sight.
A wary sigh left his lips as he made a steady, semi-quick pace down the steps, where he stepped forward into the twinkling ballroom, pausing before King Edin and giving a respectful bow with his left arm placed across his chest.â It is an honor to be here, my king. A most wondrous theme befitting the celebrations, in your grace âŠand my condolences.â Asteroth offered the sentiment to the king with a small forced smile; the words tasted unpleasant on his lips, but little else but to bear the indignity of a tragedy so quickly dismissed. Standing upright with a slight nod, heâd quietly strode his way from the center, turning his gaze, seeking till he caught sight of Calbert with a look of silent consternation, taking in the manâs bulkier state.
Just as Asteroth had first stepped through the heavy set doors, back at the carriage, the aforementioned blonde had poked his head through the carriage door window. An impish grin plastered his face as his head turned to and fro until he spotted two burly guards standing and keeping guard off to the left of the stairs. Shoving the door open, he hopped out and coyly strolled over to the guards, making sure to stop short upon seeing them peer at him with cool eyes, a slight tension of suspicion in their postures.
A flicking raise of his hands up in front of his chest to both show he meant no trouble nor had anything in his gloved hands.â Pardon me, good sirs, and please know I donât intend to waste your time long.â Nodding his head while shooting his right hand into his pocket, the act caused the two to stand alert, expecting some form of weapon or contraband.
In a blink, a white card with a big sunflower design would appear held between the forefinger and middle finger of his right hand.â Iâve come bearing a card for our dear king, oh, I get this must be strange and certainly suspicious, but I assure you, this is merely a token to, hrm..bring him a small sunny smile on this most grimly dour day. Ah, tell him it's from his favorite amusing puppet. Simply say that, and Iâm sure there should be no problem.â He held the card out to them, flashing them the biggest goofiest grin.
The next minute was spent by him holding that smile, fighting back nervous sweats as the two guards scrutinized him, some hushed mutterings were shared between them without taking their eyes off the odd blonde, his manner of attire only adding to their suspicions. However, the mention of an amusing puppet appeared to register in the talks.
After nearly another painful minute of intense hazing stares, the left guard held his hand out palm skyward, waiting expectantly.
A relieved chuckle exhaled from Kazu as he moved forward with a cautious step and delicately placed the card on the manâs hand with a gracious bow of the head.â My thanks, my good man. You wonât regret this, I assure you. And may I say you guards are doing an absolutely splendid job, keep up the good work.â Stepping back with a nervous laugh and double thumbs up, a gulp as the guard holding the letter stepped forward without a word, his blank face giving nothing but a harsh stare.
A soft, acknowledging grunt before the man made for one of the side entrances that the servants and guards used.
Watching the man go, Kazu let his tense shoulders sag with relief as he turned his attention to the remaining guard and gave a friendly side salute.â Donât let me keep you any longer, you have a good evening, sir.â Departing with a bouncing bob of his body, whistling in a happy, carefree manner
Making his way back towards the open door of the carriage, receiving a warning glare from the driver, who didnât much care, having his door shoved open, he offered an apologetic wave. His arms dropped at his sides in a deflated manner, exhaling the stress from his body.â Whew, those guards know how to grill ya with just looks, thought they were gonna tackle me for a second there.â A sputtering huff of his nose as he scratched at his head.â Right then, best get dressed!â Springing his body back up with fists pumped in front of his face and let loose a hard whoo.â Itâs just about showtime, and if I got put up with all this noble pretense shit, then Iâll do it to my own beat, their snobbish judging be damned!â He exclaimed with a determined pump of his fist.
Next thing he was jumping into the carriage; seconds later found it to be slightly rocking as muffled curses and grumblings flew. The farmhand quickly discovered the carriage cabin proving to be an ill and uncomfortable place for putting on these fancy folks' suits; too many clothes articles, but he endured for this suit he made special with fun in mind.
Waiting by the entrance, the herald watched as the doors swung open, where a caped figure walked through, but on closer inspection, he saw the person almost skipping his way along, a black-gloved hand lifting to grip the hem of their hat which sat strangely partly crooked atop his blonde locks and gleam came off the odd shades adorned with golden yellow trimmings sat at at its base, yet it was the vibrant bouquet of sunflowers bouncing nestled to its side that momentarily caught the heraldâs attention.
A curious shake of the head, the herald turned after glimpsing their face, preparing to announce.â Ka-â Before they could carry on, he had noticed Kazumin coming to a stop, while from behind a servant had rushed past, hustling to the heraldâs side, who leaned close, whispering something that left the man confuddled and confused as the two glanced over auspiciously at the blonde who stood where he had halted with a dumbstruck look of awe.
The cowlicked blonde intended to bounce unabated to the stairs, but upon taking sight of the hall had found himself at a loss. Where he expected the typical brightly lit ballroom, instead saw stars..countless beautiful stars, a starry spectacle that felt magical to behold. It was as if he had drifted off into a dream, pulled to a forestry landscape where the night sky shone brilliantly; a breathtaking painting that dazzled with colorful allure. In this moment, it was as if the world had melted around him, stripping the painful memories that weighed in his body like lead until he felt light as a cloud. Gone were the nightmares, forgotten, slowly drifting forward, allowing himself to be whisked within the dream.
Quietly passing the arguing herald and servant, his gaze transfixed by the dazzling stars pulling him into their lustrous shine, reminded of his nights staring up at them, envisioning seeing them dance like thousands of fireflies, a blinding sun dancing amidst them in the figure of a female, her every step graceful as a delicate princess, yet moved with a fiery flurry tempo so fast it would burn your feet in attempting to follow. A passionate dance that crackled with a heat of danger, a flamed hand extended towards him in beckoning longing.
A blinding smile that watered the eyes, a musical giggle like the sweetest songbird pulled at him with a mesmerizing hum, an impossibly beautiful dream he could not resist, one he never could forget, but ever always was out of his reach.
Walking along the misty path, reaching the waiting hand, he came to a pause, ready to reach out, but in a burst, she was gone, vanished into the night sky like a shooting star.
For a moment, he merely stared in stunned sadness, an ache burned in his chest as his head lowered, the rim of his hat obscured his face; standing short of the steps, left there with the stars beneath their eternal sparkling dance.
There, he closed his eyes, and around him the world dropped away; the chatters and laughters, the chink of glasses and cutlery all faded away into a tranquil silence.
To the side, the herald had let out a frustrated huff of defeat and shooed the servant away, then stepped forward with a reluctant cough of his throat, hardly pleased with what he was about to say, and in a bellowing singing tune.â Mr KazooâŠthe. Skip Meister!â His voice rang out with a slight hesitation, his face red with shame.
(image credited by princess/na)
As the name was called, Kazu showed no sign of moving, his head still turned downward even as the music swelled, for he heard none of it. The pounding in his chest filled his ears with a musical beat.
A bob of his head, the bounce of his knees, shoulders shifting side to side in a slow, building crescendo, his body dancing to its own beat, began to slightly slide in place, swinging his arms in a carefree, energetic rhythm.
More and more, his body swayed, bobbed, bounced when his left hand suddenly rose to gently grab the rim of his hat.
a joyful lift of the head, a gleeful smile that had spread.
A thousand fireflies dancing in his vision, a flurry of tapping of his feet with silly precision.
A hop with a bop
A skip with a dip
A slide with a glide
Down the stairs, he danced with a joyful abandon
A turn and a spin on his landin
All the world around him was a blur, on he danced, lost in the starry grandeur
A thousand blurry faces spurred his giddy pace, his burning legs moving without disgrace
A hop with a bop
A skip with a dip
A slide with a glide
Music was his guide
The beat of his heart kept up his stride
Across the worldâs stage, his feet skipped
Into the morning, where he reached the dreamâs end
Before the king, he spun into a bend
Lifted his hat as if to greet a friend
Down his head went with a graceful bow
With a grand smile, he greets with a playful ciao
Opening his eyes, and in a rush, the world returned around him. The cowlicked blonde found himself in a deep bow before the king, his breathing heavy with heated pants, sweat slicked his brows, and his feet burned beneath him; his hat was hoisted gently in his raised left hand. Sliding his right arm across his chest in a twirling flare, he finished his bow with a tilt of the hat, sunflowers bouncing delightedly atop it.
â Your majesty and eminence, King Edin, by your graceâŠmay the light of the sun bless this kingdom and the stars illuminate us from this dayâs darkness. A grave loss has been felt this day. A prayer for Queen Alibeth, may she find peace in these trying times and solace for the grieving royal family.â The words were spoken to King Edin, uncaring if it might earn him some ire, offering kind words to a condemned criminal.
Yet, the words were not meant for him; never could he muster to wish Edin peace for his dark deed. He hoped his words carried to the sweet princess, her tear-filled face etched with sheer grief, burned through him into his hand, fingers squeezing the hatâs fabric with a trembling grip, channeling the fury and sadness before it could consume him with bile upon laying eyes on the Kingâs wicked face.
With a spring in his step, he bound back upright, adorning the hat back on his head, giving the top of it a patting tap of his hand. And with a quick, brief light bow of his head, sporting a wide, toothy grin, albeit with a forced twitch of the corner.
Then, spinning on his heels, he strolled off, shaking off a cold shiver as he left the king behind. From there, he turned his gaze, scouring the crowds until he spotted a glimpse of familiar strawberry hair lost amidst the surrounding, fancifully dressed nobles. Though he could only make out the back of her head, the flutter of his heart and a tug of his legs were signs enough to make his way off in the direction, the smile turning warm and true at the thought of seeing Olive.
A meeting he would find more difficult than intended, as the way was currently blocked, much to his annoyance. With a disgruntled groan, he attempted to find a gap or path he could push his way through with no luck.
As he did so, coming upon a giant figure whom he failed to get a look at initially due to trying to keep his friend in sight until he inevitably relented and thought to just try the straightforward method, and gave the giant gentleman a tap on the arm, the shoulder a tad out of reach. In doing so, he would take notice of the bear-sized blacksmith with wide eyes.
â Roman!?â He exclaimed in abject surprise, throwing his arms up in happy fashion.â Er..I mean, ahem. What a delightful surprise it is to run into you.â He laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head; not the run-in he was expecting, but figured this was a good chance as any to make amends with the man after leaving things on a poor note. Hardly one to pass up such an opportunity, and thought it fine to delay for a few minutes, a good chance to try seeking out Char as well while he tried to make a new friend.
Or make that two.
As he then took notice of the woman he had been chatting with beside him, her crimson hair stood a stark contrast against those sharp, crystal blue eyes, the pale pink skin that left her face with a soft, warm glow as if touched by a gentle snowy breeze. He gave a sheepish cough into his fist, realizing his rudeness.â Oh! My apologies there, this big fellow seemed to have obscured you in my blind spot. I do hope I didnât interrupt anything.â And before either could say anything, Kazu plucked two small sunflowers, offering one to each of them.â Here. A Token of apology for my rude interruption.â He finished with a greeting lift of his hat and a bright smile.
The clanging and banging of metal against metal was music to Elenaâs ears. The heat of the fire behind her warmed her and ensured sheâd never grow cold like a blanket. The grease under her fingernails was more of an aesthetic than hindrance. Her brunette locks tied back into a messy bun. Her blacksmith attire had quickly morphed into formal attire, much to her displeasure.
Neither the grand ballroom, nor the formal attire pleased her. She had been so close to figuring out something and had to be reminded of the ball by one of her familyâs servants. Still, she relented, because missing the first ball since Nora and Magnusâ awful events could not be missed. She needed to be there for themâthere would be no stopping her.
Elena stood at the mouth of the entrance. Her gaze swept over the sea of dresses and suits, the cacophony of chatter, the bright lights shining upon everyone, the shimmer of jewellery and the delicious trays of savory foods and desserts. Gods, she hoped there was chocolate. Ellie ruffled her hair once more to tease the locks. Her name was called and then she waltzed down the steps, her boots clicking against the steps meticulously.
Once she reached the ground floor, she began looking over everyone. She recognized the red haired royalty and Ambrose, though they didnât all stand together, each of them was engaged in conversation with another person. However, seeing Lucian without Sophie caused her heart to pang. Lord Roman was alone with the chaos ball known as Sylvia, and she smiled faintly. Further to the right stood Princess AnastasiaâEllieâs heart sankâalongside a gentleman she didnât recognize, perhaps a Shehzade, and Lady Ariella. Beside them was her dearest brother. She wanted to jump in, but she decided to give him some time. It would be rude to join them unless it was necessary. Then, her gaze moved from person to person until she found her sister. Finally, she found her with a beautiful Shehzadi, with⊠Count Emil? She frowned and her eyes furrowed. Shivers ran down her spine and it was as though she had been dunked in cold water.
She nearly forgot her introduction to the King, so she paused and made eye contact with him. Her gaze was polite and sincere, though her expression masked her true feelings of the vermin before her. How dare he. While Ellie wanted to say something, it would not do them well. The less attention their witchblood family had, the better they would be.
âGood evening, Your Majesty. The ball is lovely. May the Gods shine upon you.â She curtsied for him and gave him a respectful nod. Her smile was gracious and pleasant, masking her thoughts underneath.
I hope the Gods strike you down with lightning and save this kingdom from you. The smallest worm in the world would make a better king than you.
She straightened up and moved into the crowd, making her way over towards Noraâs group. Ellie ensured her sister could see her first so she didnât spook her. She assessed the trioâso far, all seemed well, though she didnât know how long it would last. She joined them with a warm smile.
âGood evening.â Ellie greeted with a radiant smile and positivity. âHow are you all tonight?â There was gentleness and warmth about it. Underneath those layers was a savagery she would exude if anyone dared mess with her dearest siblings.
Time: Evening Location: Vikena Estate Attire:Shahzade Vikena Interaction: Charlotte Mention:
Again, the Vikenas found themselves running late to the ball, yet if you asked Lorenzo, heâd say the night was still a babe suckling on the warmth of sundown. What mattered was not when someone arrived, but how they did JUST THAT! Unlike his arrival at the previous ball, he did not scurry from his home in haste! He wore no beads of sweat upon his brow!
With the elegance he once observed from the Alidasht royalty, Lorenzo walked gracefully toward the carriage. Behind him, a member of his staff, Nathaniel, slowly shut the door with a grave look upon his face. Nathaniel held more regret in his expression than any one person should have, but Lorenzo had insisted that he had to wear this to make up for his past transgressions against the Alidasht during the previous ball. Lorenzo wanted to show that he understood their culture, not by studying, but through emulation.
Reaching the carriage, he opened the door and greeted Charlotte a beat before he ever saw her.
âYa, Lottie! Ana hoonaaa⊠Oh!â It wasnât a great reaction to his stepdaughterâs darker take on her usual appearance. It was jarring, but he knew it was never good to judge the way a woman chose to appear. She probably took inspiration from that Violet Damien⊠Itâs fine, I am the face of this family, and Charlotte is at the age where she can still spread her wings a bit. He forced a smile and gave her a nod as he took a seat across from her in the carriage. âYou look⊠dangerous!â He leaned with a smirk. âI like it! I prefer the pretty mermaid, but the alluring siren is nice too!â
Time: Evening Location: Grand Ballroom Interactions:@HylianRose Nora and @princess Count Emil
Hearing the chuckle, Amira was all but ready to run out of the ballroom and to somewhere she couldn't make an idiot out of herself. It was only as the word sorry hit her, did she dare to give the other woman a peak.
Hearing the woman compliment her outfit, a giant sigh of relief seemed to flood Amira. A small chuckle escaped from her lips as she did a small curtsy with a warm smile, "Shehzadi Amira Kadir." Though if they were going to explain who they were related to, "I am the daughter of Grand Vizier Hafiz Kadir and niece to the radiant Sultan Raif Kadir."
A small chuckle escaped from her again after what felt like a long-winded introduction, "But after such an... impactful introduction, you may call me just Amira." Maybe tonight had not been a complete loss if she could indeed make a friend.
Amira had finally started to relax around another woman around her age, so that she hardly even noticed the older man walk into their space until he intruded with his greeting.
Shocked and a little taken aback, Amira began to remember that she was, in fact, in front of dozens, if not hundreds, of eyes that afternoon and would be under great scrutiny. She curtsied back, trying to smile politely, but she admittedly was unsure how to answer someone calling her company 'beautiful'.
Though that was quickly forgotten as she looked at the man in confusion, and she stuttered out the word, "M-mourn? I believed this to be a party, a - a introduction of noble families. What would we be mourning?" Amira stared at him in confusion, showing all of her innocence and naivety on display for the world to see.
She smiled as the girl introduced herself. There was a small part of her that saw herself in this young woman and felt the urge to protect her in ways she hadn't been able to protect herself. So, when Count Emil arrived into their small little bubble, she felt herself stiffen and bristle. It did not take Nora very long to catch a terrible feeling about him. Especially when he seemed to make light of what had happened earlier that morning.
Nora hadn't gone to the events that morning, wasn't sure she could have taken seeing it like that. Even knowing the Queen was gone was enough of a burden on her psyche, she wasn't sure what seeing it would have done to her. Undoubtedly, she would have super-imposed herself or either of her siblings over the Queen and the idea of that was far more than she could handle. Regardless, she didn't see this event as very mournful. She would rather pretend the morning hadn't happened and mourn in her own time, privately. Tonight was for parading around, pretending everything was fine.
However, nothing could have prepared her for Amira's reply. Had she not heard? What rock had she been living under? Surely the news had spread even through the Alidasht royalty. Surely someone would have told her. Unless... Nora's eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second, thoughts of a lonely, isolated young Alidasht woman.
She was about to try and speak, to say something to Count Emil when she saw her sister walking up to them and her mouth hung open, the words dead in her throat. Slowly, she closed it, waiting for Elena to approach. It was strange, feeling immense joy and excitement at seeing her sister again while also feeling like she was contending with a snake. Danger to her right, but all she could think about was how wonderful it was to see her sister again. The sibling bond was a strange one indeed.
Still, Nora wasn't entirely sure what to do here. They needed to acknowledge Count Emil and somehow deal with Amira's surprising lack of awareness.
"It is lovely to meet you, Count Emil." Nora replied, her voice quiet and shaky despite her best efforts to try and sound confident. She curtsied just slightly in his direction before she turned to Amira. "I'm not sure that topic is truly appropriate for this occasion. I'm sure myself or my sister Elena would be happy to explain it to you on another day?" Nora tried to offer, motioning to her sister who had joined them.
"Elena, I'm happy you made it." Nora finally greeted her sister. She was smiling but either of her siblings could see that she was a few steps away from tears and a full breakdown. Though, that wasn't entirely hard to do.
There was no hiding the smile that crept upon his countenance as he held Amira's gaze. For one delicious moment, he considered which would be kinder: to let her wonder, or to reach into that innocent little world of hers and pull the floor out from beneath it. He had always enjoyed the pause before a scream more than the scream itself.
Then another woman joined them.
His gaze slid to her with patient interest, taking in the warmth of her smile, the brightness of her greeting, and the way she placed herself near the trembling brunette. Same face as the trembling girl who looked about as skittish as a kitten, but she was much taller.
He didn't answer her question, nor move his gaze when Nora spoke. He merely listened, savoring every fragile tremble in the girlâs voice. Poor little thing. She was trying so hard to be brave, and Emil found effort so much more entertaining than success. He wondered what he would have to make her crack like an egg. Not here, of course. Not in front of all these witnesses. Public fear was vulgar when mishandled.
It would have to all wait until his dreams tonight.
"Elena." He repeated the name finally, sounding it out as if tasting each letter. His eyes wandered briefly over the room, searching for the missing third, because he was certain now that these were the infamous Pawonska triplets. Trained like athletes, hidden away like treasure, whispered about often enough to be interesting. Emil had always considered himself a connoisseur of peculiar things, and the Pawonskas had the distinct scent of something very odd.
His smile widened suddenly in the silence, eyes bright and lovely enough to look almost sincere. Count Schmidt swept into a bow before Elena, then took her hand with practiced grace and pressed a kiss to the back of it, holding her gaze all the while.
âWhat an absolute delight that you have joined us,â he said warmly. âI may even be positively thrilled.â His laugh was rich was he straightened his posture. "Of course, we should not sully such a beautiful evening with grim talk.â His eyes flicked briefly to Nora, softened with his false apology. âI should hate to distress delicate company.â
Then his attention returned to Amira.
"However," His voice lowered in an almost intimate manner. " Does your curiosity ever outweigh such a thing? " He tilted his head, fascinated.
âI know I become positively unbearable when everyone in the room knows something I do not.â His smile softened and as did his tone. âSo tell me, pet. Would you prefer I spare you the ugliness?â
It was a room full of people pretending that they had not just watched a woman burn alive earlier that day.
It was a room full of people pretending to live their best lives, surrounded by all the glitz and glamour that Sorian had to offer. All that indulgence, all of that laughter, all of the pointless conversations and small talk that filled these noble endeavors. Like each and every one of them did have the ashes of the queen stained in their memory.
Cassius knew what it was like to be haunted by flames. This was not the first time he had watched skin melt from bone, nor was it the first time he had been cursed to smell charred hair and boiling blood. You would think knowing that the room is filled with others that may now be haunted the same would bring him some solace. It did not.
In fact, in that room filled with all of those people, Cassius may as well have been alone.
Lost in the labyrinth that was his mind, Cassius navigated the last week of his life. The memories started the night he pulled Charlotte from the depths of that frigid lake. The emotions of that evening had been overwhelming for them both. The push and pull of heart and mind, the revelations laid bare by her that night would have left anyone reeling. For Cassius, he had seen crazier, experienced wilder, and endured just as dangerous realities as the one she admitted to facing. And yet, none of the conflicts he had survived felt as real to him as the fear he suffered for knowing what she was going through. Each time he thought of her words his heart broke again. A Witch Blood. A target of a multi-fronted cast of villains, opposition that seemed hellbent on tormenting her, using her, or worse.
The witch hunters, if they truly knew about her lineage, terrified him. The Black Rose, whatever their machinations might be for her, terrified him. And his own blood boiled as he pictured the moment she described taking place at the art gallery; Alexander Deacon dominating her mind with his accursed powers⊠Attempting to force her to kiss him. Rage was not the word for how the act made Cassius feel. It was far too weak an emotion. What seared withing him was not just anger, it was hatred.
That hatred had reached his eyes, as his expression hardened and twisted into a wrathful stare down at the table as his grip tightened around his drink to the point where he could almost feel the glass shatter in his hands. He held it at bay and forced control over his outward presentation. Not revealing his cards in his face had always been a skill of his, but that skill had faltered lately. When it came to matters of Charlotte Vikena, his restraint, his composure, his devil may care disposition had all been compromised. As had his heart.
It was as though the control he had always possessed over himself had been taken from him. Not in a way like how Alexander manipulated his control at the banquet, nor how he tried to remove Charlotteâs control at the gallery, no⊠This was more like his own body surrendering the dominion he had over himself. It was not malignant, yet it terrified him all the same.
Every time Cassius and Charlotte had met up since that night brought with it that same fear. Fear for all she went through but also fear of what being around her did to him. Despite the heavy circumstances of their meetings, the harrowing conversations and revelations that came along the way⊠Each time they met, they somehow ended up tangled in one anotherâs arms. Despite themselves, their lips had found their way to one another on more than one occasion since that evening, but with every ounce of restraint either of them had that was all that had been allowed to happen.
And they never spoke of it. Not of the yearning of their bodies, nor the yearning of their hearts. They simply spoke of business. Charlotte went into details that she had not been able to that night. Details about what happened at the tavern, about how that filth had treated her and slammed her head into the table with such cruelty, details that added another man or two to the list of throats Cassius would gladly rip open if only the opportunity presented itself. In the case of the man from the tavern, work had already been done to find him.
Even Cas had opened up, telling Lottie about how he thought Kira had died, about the events that led up to his exit from the Iron Wolves, and how he knew deep down that they would come for him. Cassius revealed to her that he was not simply one of their best sellswords, but that they had been grooming him for command. The elders of the organization had chosen him to lead, and his exit had been more than a spit in their face. There would be a reckoning for that choice. Add it to the rest of the reckonings waiting around the corner for them both.
But what had stood out the most from all Charlotte had revealed that night was just how clearly she felt no one would miss her if she was gone. None of the dangers, none of the revelations had left him more shaken than those words.
Yet what had shattered him even more was the moment his father handed him the paper that morning. The words he read there nearly destroyed him.
âThe woman is unhinged, son. She is not well. Do you see now why IâŠâ
Cassius had tuned the rest out. It was all he could do in that moment to avoid wrapping his hands around his own fatherâs throat for speaking of her that way. Instead, those hands clenched it fists so tight at his side that his own nail dug into his palms deep enough to draw blood. The small wounds were still tender beneath his gloves as he stood here in this ball. And even now, as the thought passed through his mind of how Charlotte must have felt if the gossip was true, the corners of his eyes welled up with tears. Not just out of sadness for Lottie, but out of rage for whoever printed these words. True or not, for the words to be spread at all in such a public display of disgrace was disgusting.
Before his mind could turn to violence, a womanâs approach ripped him from his thoughts and forced him back into the reality of the moment.
âYou look like you need a pick me upâŠMind if I join? I can fuck off if you want.â
It was Olivia⊠Thank the gods. Cassius wasnât sure if he could handle one of the polished, perfumed little parasites that pretended to be more important than everyone else just because of the status of their birth. Olivia was different, cut from a cloth that was much more familiar to him.
Cassius took in the sight of her. Ms. Hawthorneâs deep emerald gown was beautiful to say the least, but the woman within it was clearly uncomfortable wearing it despite how flattering the dress truly was. Clocking that actually brought the faintest of smirks to his face.
âNo need to fuck off⊠Iâm just glad its you and not one of those vultures.â Cassius jested, motioning to the majority of the room. âBut how are Ms. Hawthorne? Or, Lady Hawthorne? IâŠIâm not sure I know which to use to be honest.â Cassius admitted, a puzzled expression on his has as he realized that her nobility, or lack thereof, had ever come up as far as he can remember.
Drake had half a mind to make a quip back, but he too turned to look as his sister made an entrance. She seemed to be enjoying herself, even if she was likely dressed about five levels more than she personally wanted.
But then that soft smile twisted. Brief flashes of that awful night hit him and he instinctually swallowed what was left of his drink. Just as the opportunity arose, he would request another as if nothing had happened. Drake stared for a few moments too long. That night still stuck with himâeven if he tried to pretend it didnât. The image of Ariella being manhandled. Bodies flying. Shadows twisting. A bullet to the head of a person who woke up that day expecting to see the next. His quickening breathing flaring his nostrils and a likely worried expression from his younger brother brought him back to reality. He coughed nervously, as if to hide it. What just happened, and why did it happen?
He took the time to look elsewhere, and find some notable distraction. He noticed that Ariella initially entered without a Nikolai, but a brief pause and he saw the figure slide into frame â like a shadow trying to blend into the background. At least he is doing his job. He thought to himself before spotting him approaching another woman. He chose to ignore that and looked back at Nolan.
âWe could always share the news together. I think sheâd fall over in shock.â Drake gave Nolan a pat on his shoulder. âBut enough teasing. Do you want to go talk to Lady Camilia? Purely platonically as you would put it. I imagine speaking to her more than a single opportune moment would be nice, no?â
But before he could get an answer, a spectacle unfolded before Drake, and the rest of the gala for that matter. The young man Kazumin had assumed a new persona â one aptly named Mr. Kazoo the Skip Meister. It was quite the performance really. Drake found himself softly weaving his head back and forth to the tune of Kazuminâs beat. The way he danced lent a rather jovial lift of the spirits. Once it concluded, he would wave at the lad and offer an approving thumbs up in support.
âWhat an interesting young man.â Drake commented. âIt seems like Ariella has found herself some pleasant company. So I vote we approach the group that houses your soon to be betro-I mean Lady Camilia.â Was he laying it on thick? Probably. Was he sorry? Maybe a little. Was it worth it? Indubitably.
With that, a brotherly hand sought to guide Nolan from their spot and ushered in the new movements towards the trio of Varians. âIâll give you first crack at introductions but if you crack I will have to step in you know. Show me that narousis-tinged charm, Nolan.â Drake smiled, ready to bow and introduce himself as needed.
The smell of the courtyard lingered in Minaâs throat, thick with resin, burnt hair, and something sharp and metallic that made her uneasy. No matter how much rosewater the maids used or how many layers of silk she wore, the taste of ash would not leave her.
As she sat before her vanity, the reflection staring back at her felt like a stranger. If King Edin was willing to reduce his own Queen to a collapsing silhouette of flame and cloth, what hope was there for a girl like her? A girl whose very blood was a crime in this land. She was a daughter of Varian, but here in Sorian, she felt like nothing more than dry tinder waiting for a spark.
A heavy hand settled on her shoulder, and Mina nearly jumped out of her skin.
"Steady, Mina," Sebastian Blackwoodâs voice was low, devoid of its public joviality. His eyes in the mirror were bloodshot, his skin sallow. The "illness" was clawing at him again. "You saw what happened today. The wardens are looking for shadows. From this moment on, you do not touch your gifts. Not a flicker. Not a whisper. We have been in this city for weeks, and we must survive several more. Edinâs law is absolute here."
Mina turned on her stool, her eyes wide with a mix of terror and weary defiance. "I know the risks, Uncle. But how else am I supposed to keep you safe? How am I to cover the⊠the mistakes?"
She remembered the dead maid, the cold skin, and the hurried effort to hide what had happened. The room had smelled like a slaughterhouse, and she had forced herself to make it look ordinary again. Sebastianâs hunger was getting worse, and it was taking more from her each time to cover his tracks. The magic left her feeling empty and exhausted.
Her voice shook as she whispered, "The changes in you... they frighten me." She reached out, her hand stopping just short of his sleeve. She thought of the man who had raised her after her mother died, the one who had always been steady and strong. Now, he seemed to be slipping away, replaced by someone she barely recognized.
"Then be frightened enough to stay silent," Sebastian snapped, his expression hardening into a flicker of the predator she had seen earlier that week. "Now, finish. We have a performance to give."
As Sebastian turned to leave, the silence he left behind felt heavier than his words. Mina slumped against the vanity, her hands shaking so violently she had to grip the edge of the marble.
Guilt settled in her chest, heavy and unrelenting. Each time Sebastian gave in to his hunger, she felt it as if it were her own failure. She was supposed to be the one to fix him, the one who could restore their family. She had spent years searching old books and trying every spell she could find, hoping for a way to end this damned curse.
If only she were stronger, maybe he would not have to be this way. Mina wiped a tear from her cheek, feeling the powder smear beneath her fingers. She blamed herself for every mistake he made, certain it was her failure as a healer, as his protector, and as his niece. She loved him fiercely, but that love was turning into fear. Lately, she was not just afraid for him, but of him. Sometimes, the way he looked at her made her feel like an obstacle, and other times she was an obsessionâŠa possession, and the chill it sent through her lingered long after.
She was drowning in the blood he spilled, yet she kept reaching out to pull him from the waves, even as he dragged her deeper into the black. It damned her beyond redeeming.
The Grand Ballroom was a masterpiece of denial. The music surged, drowning out the memory of the morningâs screams, and the gold filigree glittered as if the sun had never set on a pyre.
"Count Sebastian Blackwood and the Lady Mina Blackwood of Varian!" the herald announced.
Mina stepped into the light, feeling gazes settle on her. Her midnight blue and gold gown was heavier than she expected, the silk close against her skin before it fell away in a long train. The neckline was lower than she expected, and the sleeves brushed her arms as she moved. Her heart beat quickly, and she tried to keep her face calm. She had golden roses added last minute in hopes that Lucian would take notice, a silent way of saying she accepted his new nickname for her. She aimed to be the âRose of Varianâ tonight.
She followed Sebastian toward the throne. They offered the deep, practiced bows required of visiting nobilityâa perfect display of respect to King Edin, even when Minaâs true loyalty remained with the Camilias.
"A stunning display of stability, your Majesty," Sebastian remarked to Edin, his voice back to its booming, hearty mask.
Once the formalities were over, Mina slipped away as soon as she could. She needed a moment to herself, away from the Kingâs watchful eyes and her uncleâs constant presence. But even here, surrounded by so many people, it was impossible to be alone.
"Lady Mina! A word, if you please?" A middle-aged noblewoman, her fan fluttering like a trapped bird, intercepted her. "We were all so shocked by the news this morning. And your return to court these last few weeks... tell me, is it true that the climate in Kolonivka is simply dreadful for the complexion?"
It took everything in Mina not to roll her eyes at the woman. Such an underhanded jab, it was ridiculous. She forced a polite, brittle smile. "The Varian winds can be quite brisk, Lady Elara, but our hospitality is unmatched."
"And your uncle? He looks a bit⊠peaked tonight. Is the family 'affliction' worsening?" The womanâs eyes were sharp, probing for a weakness, a scandal, a crack in the Blackwood armor. Two could play at this game.
"My uncleâs health is as constant as the Blackwood name, I assure you. However, I have noticed that those who focus too intently on the shadows of others often find their own light beginning to dim. Do be careful, My Lady; the candlelight in this room is so very unforgiving to a worried face." Mina said, already beginning to step backward, satisfied at the horror on the womanâs face. "Now, if youâll excuse me, I believe I see a friend I must greetâ"
She moved too quickly, eager to get away from the questions. Her heels clicked on the marble as she turned, not watching where she was going. Mina collided with a solid, unyielding form. The impact sent a jolt through her, and she gasped, spinning around with an apology already on her lips.
But the words wouldnât come.
The air left the room. Standing before her, looking as though heâd been carved from the very duty and honor she had abandoned years ago, was...
"Ambrose," she breathed. The name felt like a sin on her tongue, a word she had no right to speak after the way she had dismantled him.
He stood with a terrifying, rigid stillness. The candlelight showed the hard line of his jaw. He looked older, not from years, but from the silence she had left between them and the loss of a beloved sister.
Minaâs hand flew to her chest, her fingers clutching the silk of her bodice as if she could physically hold her heart inside. Seeing him was a physical blow; it was a thousand memories of a stolen summer in Varian crashing into the reality of the girl who had looked him in the eye and lied until he bled.
She remembered the day she broke him. She remembered the precise way his face had crumpled when she told him she didn't love him, that he was a common distraction she had outgrown. It had been a mercy, sheâd told herself thenâjust as it had been a mercy when she did the very same to Munir. She had methodically made herself the villain in both of their stories, tearing their hearts out with practiced cruelty so they wouldn't become victims in hers. She had to ensure they stayed far away from the rot of the Blackwood curse and the encroaching darkness of her uncle.
I am a monster to you, she thought, the realization stinging worse than the smoke of the morning's pyre. And I have to stay that way.
Even as her soul ached for the safety Ambrose once represented, she felt the traitorous shift of her own heart. It was a jagged, humiliating truth: even now, standing before the man she had destroyed, her eyes instinctively flickered past him for a split second, landing on the shock of auburn hair that belonged to Lucian. Her heart was a messy, divided thingâtethered to the ruins of her past with Ambrose and Munir, yet reaching, pathetic and unbidden, for a Prince who could never truly want a ruined thing like her.
Mina stepped back, her silver sleeves moving with her. She forced her face to become calm and distant, the way people expected her to be. "I... I apologize," she said, her voice thin and formal, every word a fresh glass shard in her throat. She didn't call him Sir Ambrose; she didn't think she could handle the weight of his title or his gaze. "I wasn't looking where I was going. This crowd is... overwhelming."
She froze there, her breath coming in shallow hitches, her gaze locked onto the embroidery of his jacket because she was terrified that if she looked into his eyes, he would see the cracks. He would see that the girl who broke him was herself in pieces.
She stood on the precipice of a breakdown, caught in the gravity of the man she had sacrificed to the shadows, waiting for him to speak, and the man she truly longed for standing only a few feet away.
The wrought iron gates of the estate were familiar. Memories of just a few nights ago ran through his mind. Roman stood before them, his hand resting heavily on the cold metal bars, hesitating. He had stormed fortresses and faced down monsters that would stop a lesser manâs heart, yet the idea of walking down this path to ask for a favor felt significantly harder.
Still, he knew he could not do this alone.
He took a breath, steeling himself against the voice in the back of his mind that told him to turn aroundâthe voice that whispered that his bond was good for him. No, he thought, pushing the gate open. Not this time. I canât do this one alone.
The path to the door was short, but it felt like it stretched on for miles. He couldnât stop now; the gears set in motion would not stop for him. Could he trust her? He could only hope.
Roman raised his hand to knock, hesitating just before his knuckles grazed the wood. His gaze fell on the small ruby set in the gold band, resting where the emerald had been just a few days ago. Its purpose was the same: to hide his aura. But the memory still stung.
He pounded his fist against the door three times, then stepped back to wait.
The lock turned with a soft click, and there stood Delilah Pembrook.
She filled the doorway like someone who belonged there. Not because she was trying to impress, but because she carried herself with the confidence of a woman whoâd spent years keeping a household running. Her hair was pulled back neatly, pale strands framing her face and her bright eyes were alert even before they settled fully on Roman.
They did settle, though as she leaned against the doorway and folded her arms.
Delilahâs gaze traveled over him with ease. She looked at his shoulders, the breadth of him, the way he stood. Her lips drew inward for a moment before the expression eased into a smile that was entirely too entertained to be called polite. âWell hello there,â she murmured, and there was no mistaking the pleased note in it. âYouâre a sight, arenât you?â
Her eyes lifted again to his face, holding there. âLord Ravenwood, yes?â
The question sounded like a formality, as if sheâd already known it the moment sheâd heard the knock and still wanted to hear him confirm it out loud. She stepped back and opened the door wider. â Well, come in,â she said, the warmth returning like it had never left. âLady Charlotte is in the living room.â
And then, because Delilah couldnât seem to help herself, her smile turned faintly mischievous again, her eyes flicking once more to his height as if she was savoring the view. With that, she moved aside fully to let him through, already turning down the hall as if she expected him to follow.
Inside the drawing room, Charlotte was indeed curled up on the couch by the fire, her hair loose, dressed in a comfortable dress meant for quiet hours rather than company. She didnât immediately notice their entry; she was absorbed in her book as if the rest of the world had been turned down.
He tipped his head to the side at the woman who answered the door. She was definitely checking him out. He replied with a sly smile of his own, matching her look. âYou can call me Roman, miss.â He gave her a polite nod and stepped inside, following her into the immaculate estate.
He had decided against wearing anything too formal today, opting for something simple that still allowed him to stand out: dark greens embroidered with gold designs. The tunic was loose enough to move in comfortably while still remaining stylish, with a pin of his house sigil fastened over his right breast.
He hesitated when he saw her. Charlotte looked comfortable, peacefulâeven entranced by her book. The urge to turn and leave was quickly squashed as he took a deep breath.
âHello, Charlotte. I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time?â He spoke with a warm smile, his eyes scanning her to see how her injuries were healing from the other night. His own visible wounds were mostly gone, save for a spot of red lingering in his eye, though his ribs still woke him up at night. Still, that didnât mean he couldnât be worried about his friend.
Charlotte glanced up and her expression immediately brightened a little. For a moment, her eyes flicked over him on instinct, searching his face the way she couldnât seem to stop doing since the tavern, as if checking he was truly standing there and still whole.
Her own wounds were mostly absent from the other night, besides a few bruises that had remained.
The book slipped from her fingers onto the couch with a thump as she rose. She crossed the room quickly. She slipped her arms around him in a friendly, careful hug, mindful of his ribs, and drew back with that same sweet, earnest smile.
âHello, Roman,â she said softly, voice filled with sincere relief. âIâm very glad you came. Truly⊠thereâs no such thing as a bad time.â
Her honesty was always refreshing; she was genuinely happy to see him. Her hug was gentle, mindful of his ribs, but despite the pain, he pulled her in tighter with a laugh before letting her step back.
âI am doing much better, though I'm still a little sore. How are you? Your injuries seem to be healing well.â He smiled, his eyes holding a lingering concern for her before it faded.
He glanced back towards Delilah, then returned his gaze to Charlotte. His posture and the look in his eyes shifted to something foreign for him. Resignation, maybe? A pinch of sorrow? But mostly, it was a quiet desperation.
âI donât mean to be rude, but is there somewhere we can talk thatâs private?â He offered her a comforting smile, but on his face, it felt heavy.
Charlotteâs gaze dipped briefly to his ribs and drifted to her own hands, as if remembering how quickly everything had gone so dreadful the other night. When she looked back up, for once, she didnât bother masking the weariness in her eyes. âIâm fine⊠All things considered.â
She wrapped her arms around herself as a haunted look overtook her features. âPhysically, Iâve been alright.â She clarified. But I must confess⊠itâs been rather difficult to get the images of that night out of my head..â Then, as if she realized sheâd said too much, she drew that sweet smile of hers back into place. âYes, of courseâplease come with me.â
Then, she guided him to the estate library, passing framed portraits and scones along the way. Finally, they came upon the tall library doors. It had always been her favorite room of the houseâespecially since her dear friend Nolan had once declared it so all those years ago. It was quieter inside, the hearth low as the shelves towered overhead.
Charlotte crossed to a maroon-cushioned couch near the window and sat down. After smoothing her skirt once, she folded her hands in her lap and waited for him to join her.
He nodded along with her words. The pain was still there, of courseâhe would be concerned if it wasnât. She was good at hiding her worry, that was for sure. It was a useful skill for nobility. âI have something that could help ease that pain.â
He followed her through the estate, passing many imposing portraits of faces he did not recognize, until they reached two tall doors covered in simple but eye-catching engravings. He found himself moving slowly through the library, his eyes scanning the spines of the books. Some titles he knew, but most he did not.
The towering shelves eventually opened up into a lounge area, where a subtle warmth emanated from the hearth. There were a few chairs scattered about, but Charlotte chose a spot on one of the couches. Roman suddenly felt self-conscious. After a moment of hesitation, he sat down on the opposite end of the couch.
He remained quiet for a moment, staring down at his hands before he finally spoke.
âI need your help.â The silence hung between them for a heartbeat. âI need your help breaking a curse.â
Charlotte exhaled softly, resolve settling over her features as her gaze dipped and her lashes fluttered downward. âVery well then.â she said after very little hesitation. âTell me about this curse.â
He was relieved to see no hesitation in her featuresâonly resolve. He was committed now, yet he still found the words difficult to find. His eyes darted around the room, his ears straining for the slightest sound. The library was a prime location for listening devices, whether placed by friends or foes. But he didnât have the time to search. He had to take a leap of faith.
âItâs a blood bond. A very intricate one.â He unbuttoned his left sleeve and rolled it up past his elbow. Other than a few scars, the skin was clear⊠for now.
âIt forces me to obey orders and reveal secrets. I have limited control over my own actions when I am commanded.â A tinge of burning pain rose in his arm with the confession. Every word etched red lines under his skinâlines that slowly twisted into runes wrapping around his hand and forearm.
âIt will kill me if I resist or disobey.â His fist clenched as the runes became inflamed, rising against his skin like welts. âOr if I reveal too many secrets about the bond or my mission.â
"RomanâŠ" The word was just a pained whisper as her breath caught in her throat. She stared at the markings on his arm, her eyes wide at the implications of their existence. Her mind wandered back to the banquet, to his strange behavior, and suddenly it all made sense. "Oh, Roman, why didnât you say anything sooner? âŠHow long has this been happening?" She leaned forward, her hands hovering tentatively near his arm, as if she wanted to reach out, but feared the slightest touch might cause him further pain. The anguish of a friend witnessing unimaginable suffering was evident in her azure gaze.
"To be forced⊠to have your will taken from you⊠and to endure this painâŠ" Her voice trembled, thick with genuine emotion. "It sounds like absolute torture. I canât⊠I canât imagine what you must be going through."
"Iâm so sorry this is happening to you." Her eyes shut tight and she sighed. Then she lowered her voice instinctively, as though the shelves themselves might gossip. "I confess⊠I have my own odd grievances of late as well. For starters. I have witchblood, and the hunters know." Her fingers curled in her lap, knuckles whitening for a moment before she unclenched them. "Until recently, I have never cast a spell before, nor did I even know I was a witch. Frankly I had no knowledge of magicâs existence prior to this week. Nonetheless, I have begun researching." Her gaze lifted to his, unwavering now. "The Black Rose has taken an interest in meâand I believe my father, too. I can no longer afford to be ignorant."
Her posture straightened. "You are to tell no one. Not even our friends." The sentence was gentle, but it was not a request. "I am aware of the risks my actions bring, but I must find ways to deepen my understanding. I am at a place I would rather be terrified with my eyes open than comfortable with my throat bared." She paused, then her expression hardened.
"All that to say given that I am delving into a book of the sort anyway⊠I will do all I can to help you break it." Her chin lifted slightly, unflinching. "Because I am done doing nothing."
He kept quiet, listening to her speak and watching her reactions. They were genuine. That was the reason he had come here. Who else could he trust to help him without using it against him? This had to work. He could see that she cared about himânot for what he was, but for who he wasâand he could see by her admissions alone that she was scared.
At the very least, she was choosing to act. That was something he could help her with. Something he would help her with. He understood these things: being Witchblood, being hunted, being investigated. Even working with the hunters was a chore.
The mention of the Black Rose made him sit just a little straighter, though her confession did not seem to surprise him. Instead, he looked as if he were simply filing away the information.
Roman nodded at her words, his gaze locking with hers, just as serious. This was a new step for her, he could tell. Her fear had turned to something moreâanger, perhaps a bit of rage. But what he saw most clearly was determination: a refusal to let her life be controlled by others.
âIf you are able to break this curse, I will owe you a life debt. The bond is made at the end of our trialsâthe last step in becoming an adult and a soldier. I did not choose to take the oath.â The implication was clear, but he took a moment to process the rest of what she had said.
He didnât suspect a lie. If she was trusting him like this, he would return that trust. âI will keep your secret to the best of my ability. As a fellow Witchblood.â He paused to let the words sink in. âHow can I help you understand yourself? What questions do you have?â
âTo be frank with you, Roman⊠I scarcely know where to begin.â Her brows knit as if the thought itself pained her. âAs far as I ever witnessed, my parents never cast at all and I have no memory of anything even resembling it.â
Her gaze momentarily fell. âTell meâyour aura⊠is it simply purple?â A long pause followed. âBecause mine is too, but it bears a dark outlineâŠAccording to something I read, that may suggest dark magic somewhere in my history⊠and if that is true, then I am left with one question.â Her chin rose. âHow do I understand why?â
He nodded slowly as he processed the information she gave him. Her questions were sharp. It was clear just how far she had researched and how much she had been told. However, the last question about his aura made him sit up a little straighter. That wasnât a topic he enjoyed discussing, but he knew he owed her the truth.
âA Witchblood lineage can be passed down even if a generation doesn't practice it. And who is to say that one of your parents didnât practice before you were born?â He paused, rifling through his memory on the subject. âThe original Witchbloods in your family would have had a codeârules to live by. Typically, these codes forbid harmful spells, require one to be in tune with nature, and ban the use of dark magic and magic for personal gain.â
âMy family is sworn to protect Varian and its peopleâmost notably the Crown and its heirs. But we also must maintain a balance between our own desires and the magic that flows through the natural world. The Ninefold Path guides us in that.â
He paused again, considering how to phrase his next thought.
âThe black around the edge of your aura could be a sign of dark magic usage, but I believe that can happen whether you were conscious of it or not. Someone could have forced you to do it. That, and being a Witchblood, you are capable of casting wordless spells. That is what I was doing the other night.â
He sighed heavily, looking down at his hands for a long moment before meeting her gaze again. âMy aura is an anomalyâsomething we haven't seen or heard of before. It is a thick, deep purple. But if you watch it long enough, it cracks like a pane of glass. And in those cracks, you see only an abyss of darkness.â
Charlotte held his gaze, taking each and every one of his answers in. Her brows knit together once again, and by the time he finished speaking, she lowered her eyes thoughtfully. She sighed and said at last, jesting, though with a quiet wistfulness to her tone, âIf I werenât so scared⊠â She drew her knees to herself. âMaybe Iâd suggest the idea of you and I assembling a coven and frolicking about the woods with the othersâlike silly little storybook witches.â
He tilted his head from side to side, weighing the thought. âThatâs not a horrible idea. Covens are meant to build bondsâto teach, to grow, and to protect one another.â It was something he had done in the past. Technically, his family and a few of the other old Emberstone clans were all part of a larger coven. Branching out into a new one wasn't out of the question. âYou should see what the others say.â âMaybe wait until after this trial, though.â He paused, his voice turning somber. âI wouldn't want to help build something with you, only to be unable to see it through.â His gaze drifted, seeming to focus on something miles away.
Charlotteâs eyes followed his trail of vision as if trying to see for herself what he might be watching. However, she chose not to question the specifics just yet.
âThough the idea has its allure,â she admitted softly after a pause, and there was a wistfulness in her eyes as she said it, âand I can certainly see the benefit of having a circle of support⊠Somewhere we might educate ourselves, and speak plainly about protecting one anotherâŠâ
She drew off, tilting her head as her brows knit together. âBut we are in Sorian after all,â she continued, lowering her voice without quite meaning to. âWith hunters about, I fear a coven here would become less a sanctuary and more a target.â
Her gaze dipped for a moment. âA prominent hunter visited me the day after the tavern attack. He stood in my foyer, with a woman in chains at his side, paraded like some obedient petâ There was disgust in her voice and a visible grimace forming on her features. âHe made it very clear what he will do if he decides I am more than a harmless girl who keeps her head down.â
She then sighed, stretching her palms out on her thighs. â...And given how severe the consequences seem to be for magic casting⊠It is not something I would ever encourage another soul to undertake lightlyâif at all.â
He let himself lean against the couch, staring up at the ceiling as he listened to her speak. âThat is true. It would be fraught with danger⊠but what isnât these days? On the surface, Varian is just as bad; the witch hunters are based there.â He paused for a moment, letting the different possibilities and outcomes filter through his mind. âThe only reason I'm allowed to use magic the way I do is because it gets the job done.â
âI think, despite the dangers and the consequences, I'd much rather burn than watch my friends be consumed by magic. It is not a⊠peaceful way to go.â
He sighed, his gaze drifting back to her. âWhen the time comes to break the bond, we will need a lot of helpâboth physical and magical. I will try to run. I will fight. I will be forced to do whatever I can to protect the bond. I just hope I can find a way to give you more information about it before then.â He trailed off, offering her a sheepish smile.
âI know you have your own burdens weighing you down, and it's not just magic. But I make this oath to you: I will help you to understand yourself and to protect yourself. And just know that if everything goes to shit, I have the resources to smuggle you out of the kingdom if you need it.â
âI understand your sentiment,â Charlotte replied softly at first, her voice composed. âAnd I am grateful for it. Truly. I promise you, I am committed to helping you break this bondâno matter what.â
Yet even as she spoke, something in her demeanor began to fracture. She drew in a breath, one hand lifting to her chest as though she might steady the storm gathering there, before letting it fall again, fingers trembling faintly. âI onlyâŠâ Her voice faltered just briefly, before she forced herself to go on. âI cannot continue as I am.â
She rose from the couch without quite realizing she had done so, pacing a short distance before stopping, arms folding tightly around herself as though she were holding herself together by sheer will. âI would rather learn to wield this magic than remain a bystander to suffering,â she said, the words gaining strength with each breath. âI want to become someone who can protect the people I love.â
âDuring the tavern attack, I was helpless,â she continued, âLord Edwards was tortured because of my failures.â She pressed her palms briefly to her temples, as though the memories were too loud. âAnd I did not do enough to prevent my motherâs deathâŠâ she whispered. âNothing that mattered.â
Her gaze lifted then, fierce despite the tears. âI am sick of being powerless.â The words rang with ferocity. â I refuse to be preserved like porcelain while the world burns around me.â
Her hands clenched at her sleeves. âIf learning this art costs me comfort⊠safety⊠even my lifeâŠâ she said, voice trembling, âthen so be it. I would rather fall beneath a hunterâs blade having fought, than wither away having done nothing.â
âThat hunter from the banquet visited me the morning after that nightâŠâ she murmured. âI was not wearing my locket at the banquet and my aura was witnessed by them.â
A fleeting smile unbecoming of their conversation flickered across her lips. It was not of happiness but of relief. At least it had been her. At least it had not been Olivia.
âI cannot bear the thought of him standing before anyone else as he stood before me,â she admitted. âStanding there deciding whether it was worth it to permit me to go on living.â Charlotte nearly spat the last words in disgust, her voice quivering with emotion.
âI know this path may destroy me, Lord Ravenwood,â she said quietly. âI am not blind to that truth.â She held his gaze without flinching, as though her will alone could keep the world from swallowing them both.
âBut I have already made my peace with it. If my end must come,â she finished, steady at last, âthen let it come knowing I protected those precious to me.â
He did not dare say a word to interrupt her; he just listened and let her speak, waiting patiently for her decisionâher resolveâto make itself known to them both. She did not disappoint, and once again, he found himself smiling. Witnessing this side of her, he realized just how far she could go. This anger and passion could stir others into action, if she could maintain it.
Roman didn't speak for a few moments. He wanted her declaration to hang in the air, allowing her to truly absorb it. He needed to absorb it, too.
âWhat you're feeling right nowâthis resolve, this anger, this rage... keep it and use it,â he finally said. âThank you for being open with me. Killian is an issue, and I will be honest with you: I have worked with him before to hunt down a coven of necromancers. However, I assure you that I only hunt witches who use their power to destroy the lives of others.â
Charlotteâs brows lifted with surprise and she adjusted her positioning as if to deal with her discomfort that way.
âThat is a story I can tell you another time, if you wish. For now, let's focus on what it is to be a Witchblood and how you can protect yourself. If you can't protect yourself, you can't protect others.â
He turned toward her. His voice was stern, naturally adopting the tone of a teacherâa tone he had found himself using more and more often since coming here.
âA Witchblood is the result of generations of powerful magical bloodlines intermingling and practicing magic throughout their lives. One or both parents can pass it down.â He paused, thinking for a moment before continuing. âEvery family line has specific rules, but most can be summarized simply: do no harm, keep the balance, don't use magic for personal gain, and remember that a cost must always be paid. There are other rules, but that is the gist of it. Breaking them can inflict a curse upon the Witchblood, the specifics of which I am not entirely sure.â
Charlotte thought of her father, and the strange manner she had been receiving his memories. Her mouth tightened into a thin line as she considered that at the very least she was certain he had been aware of their family history. She supposed she couldnât have faulted him for hiding that from her at the tender age she last saw him. â... What do you suppose your family rules are?â She finally asked after some thought.
Roman tilted his head to the side in thought, then shrugged. âAll of them? Why not.â
ââThe Nine-Fold Path we follow consists of rules and guides to keep a witch on the right path, ensuring they will not be consumed by their power. My family itself has several specific rules.â He paused for a moment, his expression thoughtful as he pondered how best to continue.
Charlotte nodded once. The words âconsumed by their powerâ did not leave her mind, and she could not help the brief glance down toward her hands.
âThe Vow of Iron: the raven's wings shield the throne; it must never seek to sit upon it. That one is a bit obvious. We pledge ourselves to protect the crown, and our magic must not be used against it. In return, the crown will always shield us from the sun."
He paused for a moment, then continued. âThe Law of Breath and Bone: magic may bend the world, but it must never cheat the grave. We cannot bring back the dead in any capacity. The only exception I know of is through a ritual where you enter their realmâyou never bring them back here.â
âThe Law of the Roots: you cannot reap without sowing; the earth is a partner, not a well to run dry. This one has varied interpretations, but we all agree it is about maintaining the balance between our magic and the influence it has on the natural world.â
âThe Law of the Vessel's Toll: the body is a conduit, not the source. One must bear the toll upon themselves and within themselves for using magic. I'm not sure if that one is as much of a rule as it is an unavoidable fact. Our magic will always have some kind of physical manifestation, as well as other payments.â
With a heavy sigh, he continued. âAnd finally, there is the Law of the Ember. The flame burns hottest when contained; expose it only to burn out the rot. Our family dictates strict covertness. Magic is never to be used as a tool of spectacle, convenience, or pride. It is only meant to fulfill a duty, protect the crown or the coven, or hunt the corrupted. We've found that protecting ourselves counts, too, and doing small things that advance our goals doesn't seem to trigger the curse either.â
At that, something woke up behind her blue eyes. She thought of King Edin, of the Church, of witch-hunters parading their righteousness through the streets, and she felt her jaw tighten. Charlotte could understand restraint, could even respect it, but she also knew what happened when power belonged only to those bold enough to use it publicly.
He paused again, his gaze returning to her. âDoes this answer your question?â
The fire crackled from the hearth as her heart beat too fast for how still she sat. âYes,â she said quietly, voice steady. âIt answers it.â After a sigh, she added, âI think⊠it is important that I learn my own familyâs rules.â she added, eyes flicking down for a brief moment as if she could feel the weight of her locket even through fabric, then returning to Roman with resolve. âBecause if there is a toll, I would at least rather know what price I am to pay.â
She stood then, smoothing her skirt with hands. âThank you for trusting me with this⊠For all of this tonight. â Charlotte said softly. âI promise I will do all I can for you, dear friend⊠We shall meet here going forward for further discussions.â
âAnd lessons on our magic.â he added with a nod.
Time: Evening Location: Grand Ballroom Attire: Aslam's Outfit Interactions: Kira - @Potter, Askel - @Remram Mentions: Color Code: #FEF698 Aslam raised his brow not with confusion but interest at Askel's answer to his burning question. There was a conviction in the prince's tone that he could see matched the severity of his eyes. A part of him was taken aback at how earnest the royal was being to him and Aslam felt a bit of the sharpness in his scrutiny of the man become blunted. The smile helped to cement his growing approval of the one Ranya had set her eyes on. There was no longer any doubt in his mind he was the same one she spoke of and to whom that coat belonged to. The more Askel spoke of Ranya, even though he never named her, was enough to make the stoic shehzade smile himself. However, Aslam had promised his dearest little sister that he would not confront her admirer directly, at least not yet.
He placed a hand on Askel's shoulder as he finished, giving a light shake of his head. "Be at ease, my friend." His tone relaxed to be more warm. The impression Askel had left on him was strong and, despite his reservations, he believed what he spoke to be true. What he would leave unsaid is that should he ever betray or fall short of her expectations...there would be severe consequences. "I have to admit I am envious that you have you have found someone you can speak of so profoundly. She must be a real treasure." At the final word, he gave Askel's a brief, firm squeeze while his smile grew and his eyes squinted before he let his grip go.
His attention was so focused on Askel's small speech about Ranya that he had let Kira's presence slip from his mind until her voice grabbed his attention. Aslam overlooked her mention of his sister to answer her question, glancing into his own gilded cup to compare the traces of rich red wine that was left with his memory of a certain princess's hair. His hand swirled the empty cup idly with wine that was no longer present. "Red is a very fine color that pairs very well with gold." He hummed his indirect answer looking back up at his two conversation partners. "Competition is no stranger to us, Prince Askel. What we truly desire must always be fought for." A tinge of bitterness seeped into his voice at the end.
Askel's concern brushed aside whatever melancholic memories were springing up as he looked over at Kira more closely. "Is there something amiss? We could step outside if you need some fresh air?" He offered, a bit ashasmed he was too distracted with other thoughts to notice sooner.
Time: Evening Location: Carriage â Ballroom Attire: Outfit Interaction: @FunnyGuy Lorenzo @Potter Olivia @Oso Cassius âYa, Lottie! Ana hoonaaa⊠Oh!â
Charlotteâs gaze whirled toward the open carriage door the moment it swung wide, and the cool night air rushed in. Lorenzo filled the frame as if he was in a painted portrait that had decided to speak, the night quiet and stars twinkling behind him.
âYou look⊠dangerous!â
Dangerous.
The word lit a match in her and she couldnât stop the smile that crept up on her features. âDangerous,â she repeated, as if tasting it. âI like the sound of that.â She liked it much more than being compared to a porcelain doll, that was for certain. It made her sound capable, strong and not to be underestimated.
â...I like it! I prefer the pretty mermaid, but the alluring siren is nice too!â
Her eyes dipped to her gown, to the way it caught what little moonlight poured through the window. Then Charlotte laughed weightlessly. âLorenzo, you look absolutely amazing,â she said, and the sincerity in it was bright enough to make her eyes shine as she leaned forward to give him a brief hug. When she pulled away, she clasped her fingers together. âTruly.â
She then smoothed the front of her skirt with both palms. âI think I look rather splendid tooâŠâ Lottie said with a pleasant smile. âItâs a starry-night theme, after all,â she continued. âSo dark blue and sparkly felt like the only choice.â
The carriage jolted as the horses started galloping forward, that familiar bouncing motion present beneath them. Charlotte leaned back with a sigh that sounded, for once, like contentment.
And then her attention slid back to Lorenzoâs outfit, deciding it was best to tell him earlier rather than later. âHowever,â she began casually, as if she were about to comment on the weather, âI did reconsider this whole wearing Alidasht garb situation, to be honest.â
She hadnât protested properly at dinner the other night. She hadnât even truly thought about it⊠at least not in the moment, not with all the nerves of wondering if he knew about the numerous chaotic events she had been involved with. But as the hours passed, it lingered in her mind and she realized the stupendous amount of issues that could arise with his decision. With each minute, the dread of approaching him grew. The last thing Charlotte wanted was for Lorenzo to endure yet another humiliation, but lately he had been stubbornly unreceptive to feedback.
Now that fear wasnât sitting on her chest the way it usually did, it was easier to see the simple truth: she only needed to frame it in a way Lorenzo would actually hear. Perhaps on any other day she might have bristled at the idea, might have even called it manipulative. But tonight, it didnât even occur to her to feel guilty. Her intent was to protect him, and she was determined to do so. If the method got them safely to the same outcome, then the method did not matter.
She turned toward him, the corners of her mouth still lifted. âAnd Iâve decided we should expect that some bored noble with a vile personality might try to spin this idea that you are mocking the Alidasht,â she said simply. âNot because it would be trueâobviously it would notâbut because they adore inventing drama the way toddlers adore throwing food.â Lottie made an exasperated motion with her hand, as if she could toss away this vile noble she invented right here and now.
âYou remember last few times,â she added, her tone light, âThey misunderstand one little thing and suddenly everyone starts acting as though youâd personally declared war..â Charlotte shifted closer, shoulder nudging his,âAnd I will not spend my evening watching you get mistreated. Whether or not you choose to change your clothes. â she said, softly and firmly âNot when the entire point is for you to be admired for the great Duke you are..â
Then she reached for a small box that had been almost hidden in the darkness beside her and subsequently opened it in her lap. âSo,â she announced, âI brought you an escape route.â
Inside was the spare suit Delilah had packed: dark blue, and sparkly, just like her dress.
Charlotte looked up at him, her nose scrunching with her delighted smile. âIf you decide youâd rather not give anyone the satisfaction of whispering nonsense,â she said lightly, âyou may change.â Her smile sharpened in a way that it was as if only for a moment, father was revived through her. âAnd if you do not⊠then I will spend the entire night smiling sweetly while I ruin every single person who tries to accuse you of anything⊠And..â Her shoulders slumped. â Itâs blue and sparkly like mine,â she finished, patting the box with satisfaction. âWeâd match.â
Before he could answer, she hovered a finger by his lips. âJust⊠Think about it. Itâs simply a suggestion!â To her surprise, as long as he didnât have to wear makeup, he seemed to bite the hook.
The rest of the ride, Charlotte had spent blabbingâa lot. She told him she was going to start jogging in the mornings, and that she had started learning some self-defense. She told him how she had conquered Kazumin in a breakfast-eating contest and then poker-faced the brutal tummy ache afterward. She told him she was excited to see Nolan Edwards, because sheâd heard he was finally back around, and she told him how Olivia had already gone aheadâand wasnât late like they were.
But this wasnât a candor spell after all, so she never told him about the witch hunter who had come to her door, nor the magic book⊠nor the fact she had been kissing Lord Cassius Damien at various moments over the course of the season. He did not need to know about those situations.
It wasnât long before the two stood before the massive ballroom doors.
âLadies first.â Charlotte teased him softly, as the guards opened the doors, revealing the ballroom in all its glory: a radiant gilded room with splashes of blue and stars dangling from the ceiling. The air was thick with perfume, music permeating through the as the whole room shimmered with the movement of expensive gowns.
Lottie stepped in as if the room belonged to her as of the very first step.. Her hair cascaded down her back in thick loose waves that was purposeful and elegant, rather than wild. She wore a deep wine lip and a soft smoky eye that intensified her gaze just the way she wanted it. The midnight gown she wore clung to her skin and hugged her waist, shimmering ever so subtly only when the light cast upon it. The bodice had a jeweled pattern that drew the eye down the center, and sheer lace sleeves draped from the off the shoulder sleeves. And then there was the thigh slit that was impossible to ignore.
Her gaze did not snag on any one person; it swept the room in an unhurried manner as the herald called her name. And as eyes turnedâsome from curiosity, some from shock, some from the simple instinct to look when something wasn't per usual. Charlotte felt that same thrill travel through her just as it did earlier. She inhaled subtly, lips parting just slightly as the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Her eyes slid over the crowd, taking in their expressions.
She knew she looked different tonight, like another woman compared to the girl who came to events with a pretty ribbon tying back her hair. Charlotte had seen this woman in the mirror and, for once, there had been no second-guessing: she looked beautifulâbut more than that: untouchableâŠ
...Powerful.
The kind of powerful that ensnared people the longer they stared. And she knew that those who took a gander at her would see that; there was no point in pretending any differently as she made her way into that room, chin lifted. But the attention didnât make her flinch this time.
Her parted lips slowly formed a pleased smile. Her shoulders settled back, and the way she walked gained a dangerous certainty, each step indulgent and deliberate. The smallest sway of her hips wasnât a performance so much as the natural consequence of her not trying to disappear. The spell made it feel effortless, like she had been holding her breath her whole life and only now remembered she was allowed to breathe.
Someone in particular looked rather enchanted, staring at her as if theyâd forgotten their own conversation mid-sentence. Charlotte met the gaze without blinking, sweet as she was with her friends, and gave them a small wave.
A few reactions stood out to her. For once, Calbert actually looked unmistakably shocked as he stared at her. His wife, however, did not look nearly as surprised as she smiled kindly upon the eye contact. She noticed Gideon Edwards cover his mouth, probably to bite at his sleeve as she recalled he would whenever father would do something, well, insane.
She thought perhaps sheâd look over her shoulder to reunite with Lorenzo, to make sure he was right behind her, but then her gaze snagged on Cassius. Olivia hovered at the edge of her vision, positively a dream of beauty, but Charlotte could not drag her eyes away from the handsome son of Calbert Damien.
For a man new to nobility, he wore the most divine clothing and held himself as if he had been born and raised in this world. The gray streak in his hair caught the light first, then those storm-eyes of his, the lashes she had noticed far too many times, and finally his lipsâthe very lips she could recall the taste of, the very lips that were always plaguing her waking mind and her dreams.
Something about tonight was like seeing him for the first time all over again. Even if she had just seen him the other day, even if she had been thinking about him day in and day out⊠She was completely enraptured by his ethereal gaze, by the way he was looking at her in that very moment.
But she had learned a lot about Lord Cassius Damien the last few weeks, about the precious parts of him that seemed to only be hers. Even as others whispered whatever nonsense they wished, Charlotte knew much more than they did. She knew the gentleness hidden beneath all that charm, the innocent kindness, he tried so poorly to disguise, the soul-deep pain he thought no one saw. It felt like a secret tucked safely beneath her ribs, one that belonged only to her. Even if they would never be quite sensible together, Charlotte could not help feeling that some part of him would always be hers. And some part of her, even if it terrified her, was already his.
Charlotte didnât even bother pretending she cared who noticed as she started toward him. Calbert Damien could choke on it.
Simply, she closed the space between them like it belonged to her.
âHi, Cassius.â she greeted him, her voice breathy. Her smile was genuinely kind and her defenses were nonexistent as she stood before him.
Her eyes lifted back to his, and she stepped close enough that their noses nearly brushed, close enough to make the air between them feel charged and closer than she ever had to him in public. Then, ever so gently, she reached up and wiped a single crumb from the corner of his lips, as if she had every right to.
Her smile then turned into a smug little smirk before she let her gaze fall upon her dear friend, Olivia. Charlotte cupped her cheek tenderly, âYou look so beautiful, Liv.â
Nolan hummed disappointingly though he was not going to hold it against Ariella; it was a large crowd and chances were her mind was elsewhere. He could not blame her if it was, not everything that happened while he was away. All he could ever hope for was for her to find some enjoyment tonight, despite the pall that was cast over them. No, what caught his attention was his brother barely holding himself together. He knew it all too well, the kind of shock that a night of violence could have on the mind and the aftershocks that came after, but he would not ask him about it right now. There were too many eyes, too many prying ears, and loose lips.
The young lord had placed his empty glass down though made no attempt to get a new one. It was far too early in the night to become inebriated and he certainly held no desire to make a fool of himself once again. He searched the ballroom with arresting green eyes to take stock of the guests when his gaze fell upon a new entrant, Count Emil Schmidt. The hairs on Nolan's neck stood up like a dog's hackles. How long had it been that anyone elicited this sort of dread from him? These instincts that had kept him alive for so long that he thought had dulled were screaming at him that this man could barely be described as human.
Nolan glared at the man from a distance. He knew damn well that he had to avoid someone like him for the sake of his siblings; they could not afford to have anymore negative attention on them, not after what happened in that pub.
His attention though was brought back to Drake with comments about their sister and could only chuckle in response. She probably would have fallen flat on her butt if she heard that her dear little brother finally started to gain a romantic interest in others. Drake though then asked a very pertinent question, one that brought upon a hesitant expression and another slight blush. "I-" Before he could finish, he was interrupted by the herald announcing Mr Kazoo the Skip Meister.
"I beg your finest pardon?" he asked incredulously.
Nolan watched in stunned silence and with raised brows. Just what the hell was that?! Who in the fresh hell enters a royal ball overseen by the king himself like some sort of jaunty fool? It was so outlandish that a part of Nolan could not help, but to respect it just a little if only for the fact that it must have irritated King Edin to the tenth degree. The man was the whole circus though he would be lying if Nolan said he wasn't jealous of the self-confidence and lack of regard for the opinions of others.
It had been such a distracting sight that Nolan had hardly paid attention to what Drake suggested. "Hm? Oh, yes, sure â Wait, what?" Realization sucker punched him when he registered what he just agreed to. The loving hand of his brother coaxed him along the ballroom floor before he knew what was going on because Drake knew damn well that if given the opportunity Nolan would have been skulking around the corners of the room never leaving his shell. No, instead he threw him into the deep end.
Before he could protest Nolan was soon standing in front of the Varian royals, their knight, and another noble woman. Why was the air so tense between this group? What the hell did Drake unknowingly push him into? Nolan briefly shot his brother a look. They were most definitely going to have words later.
His muscles felt as tense and stiff as a board. There was always an awkwardness to meeting new people, but the added weight that two of them were royalty certainly was of no help. Well, he met Marina, but he had no idea who she truly was! It was really times like these that he would have rather stayed in his office with a book.
"Um, hello there. My apologies if we are interrupting." He greeted them with a polite smile. "We offer our humblest greetings and respect to the royal family of Varian. My name is Nolan Edwards, youngest child of Duke and Duchess Edwards of Soralia, and this is my brother, Drake Edwards, eldest child and heir. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He bowed with a practiced grace that had been drilled into him by his mother.
The young lord shifted his gaze back to that familiar pair of violet eyes. "It's great to see you again, Princess Camilla. You look..." He trailed off. How did she look? There were so many ways he could say it and yet, even in that split second he struggled to put it to words. How was it he could be so well read, so bloody educated, and still fail to find the words to aptly describe how she looked? Nothing he could think of did any justice towards her.
"You look lovely tonight," was all he could say. His lips curled up into a warm smile that met his bright green eyes. "Very lovely." Perhaps that was the only word that could capture her so succinctly.
A sudden surge of awareness washed over him that he may have let his attraction towards her slip in front of her brother and her taciturn knight. Perhaps he should go easy on the wine lest he lets something else slip. "I, uh, I hope this night has found everyone well so far. Have you all been able to enjoy your stay in Caesonia?" asked the young lord in hopes of shifting the topic.
Fareed let loose a considerate hum, not answer quite immediately. â...No, I would say not. It is fitting for one such as you, but for those who misunderstand your station would call it trashy. A mark of someone who plays at what they are not. He vaguely gestures to both her and then further around. âThere is no harm in dressing up, but you seem to be one more centered in things of practicality than the flimsy sequins and fabrics that see only polished floors. Combining the two leads to something that appears fine to a common eye, but to any of those from a court? Those vipers would be gossiping for weeks after!â He finally pauses enough to take a drink and allow the words to sink in.
Too long in fact, for someone else steps forth to interject. One who seemed familiar with the Captain, as he slid himself in casually enough. He seemed dashing, but in that way that lead to a few to many broken hearts. Almost likeâŠHmm. Now Fareed felt almost compelled to be slightly petty with him. That face, that hair, those clothes, none of them were things he recognized explicitly. Except that style of cuff is certainly from Breoven. A niche choice.
But he discards the idea of bluntly listing his titles. As with most any noble, he had many but also has an excessive amount given jokingly or otherwise from his siblings. While most had no official capacity, they were just audacious enough to get them written down in record. All of them took upâŠfar to much parchment for a man who preferred a semblance of anonymity.
âI am known as Fareed, of Alidash. Might I know who speaks to me?â Plain and uninspired, it serves as a serviceable greeting.
Time: Evening Location: Grand Ballroom Attire: Sylvia's Outfit Interactions: Ranya - @Tae, Roman - @ReusableSword, Munir - @Infinite Cosmos, Kazumin - @samreaper Mentions: N/A Color: #F09A99 The sweet had merely been a diversion to shift further compliment or attention directed towards her, yet Roman's acceptance of it did bring some satisfaction to the smile she wore. The smile strained somewhat as she held back a laugh over his comment of sugar. A great deal of her parents early frustrations could be attributed to the dastardly substance and a certain duo's insistence on sneaking it whenever possible.
"You just need to know the right people, Lord Ravenwood, and you'd be surprised what you can find!" Sylvia beamed cheerfully at his review. "However, I do agree that nothing beats the treats found at home. Why, Ambrose know how many times I snuck of the castle for a particular craving!" She was excited that the conversation had changed away anything slightly flirtatious or romantic. The presence of Ranya, in particular, gave her additional reassurance that she normally lacked in this sort of situation.
The anxiety that begun to leave her crashed back as Munir seemingly crashed into their group. She was vaguely aware of him as a royal of Alisdaht, but not much more than that. Sylvia flashed him a similar, polite smile as she did to Roman when he had approached them. "It is a delight to meet you as well, Shehzade." It quickly turned more tense holding that smile as her heart dropped hearing his request of Ranya. That would leave her all alone with Lord Ravenwood and without a crutch to fall back on.
"I think brunch tomorrow is a perfect idea. I cannot wait to talk to you more when it is the two of us." The promise of a time set aside for them to hang out further lifted her spirits for the few moments it took for Munir to pull away her newest friend and quickly sank as her gaze shifted from them to the imposingly tall, and admitted ruggedly handsome man, before her.
Absently, she clasped her hands in front of her once more adopting a more proper stance to soothe her nerves. A tightness that was not from the dress nor the corset supporting her bust gripped her chest. Sylvia decided to address his earlier question to ease her mind and bring an easier topic to the front before he could deviate into something more personal. "Do you think me a fanatic to suggest I have tried each one already? A favorite cannot be determined until each one has been properly tasted and evaluated. It is a serious matter for a princess to favor a particular subject." The exaggerated posh tone she dived into was accompanied by a light smirk as he moved to the different trays and plates. "However, this one has my favor so far. It would do well not to loose it." She grinned in a mockery of a play's villainess as she delicately plucked a cream puff pastry from its cohorts.
The little game she played to restore what confidence she had in dealing with Roman was put to the side as the strangest name and title broke her out of her performance. She had to blink twice just to make sure she wasn't seeing things as the man that came down the stairs following his strange introduction definitely lived up to the name. "Lord Ravenwood, do you know that odd man?" She spoke the descriptor with fascination unable to hear exactly what he said to Edin, but the looks directed his way were enough.
Sylvia purposefully shifted her position so that she was more or less hidden by Roman's much larger frame. She did not want the man to know she was staring at him like some unique creature at a fair. Her eyes went wider as he began to make his way in their direction. Her crystal blue flicking in every direction seeking some sort of escape like a frightened rabbit. One man's attention was already enough and now she might have to deal with two?!?
Her worst fears came to pass as she watched him get ever closer and closer until at last he ran into Roman. Sylvia glanced up at the bear of a man, surprised he would be somehow acquainted with the man in question. Out of courtesy, she stepped the side so that they wouldn't be speaking through the large obstacle. She shook her head offering her go-to sweet smile "We were simply discussing our favorite sweets presented at his ball." A bit of confusion flashed in her face at the presented flower. It broke way to a bright smile to match his own as she leaned in and plucked the sunflower from his hand, spinning it between her fingers.
"Hmpf, I suppose I can forgive such a imposition on our very important discussion." Sylvia tilted her head upwards in an exaggerated motion with sarcasm lining her otherwise noble voice. "I am Princess Sylvia Camilia, happy to meet you Mr. Kazoo the mighty skip meister." She spoke his name and title with overindulgent reverence with a full curtsy.
Time: Evening of Ignis 10 Location: Danrose Castle Interactions: Marina @princess, Lucian @HylianRose, Mina @Tae, Nolan @Remram
"Ambrose, thank you for getting her here safely as always."
Lucianâs words came out even and appreciative, but Ambrose was no fool. This man, this prince was doing his best to hide just how uncomfortable Ambroseâs presence made him, but his best⊠unfortunately for both of them⊠was not enough to conceal the discomfort fully.
âOf course, my Prince.â Ambrose replied with a similar tone. Despite the resentment that even now in this moment bubbled underneath, Ambrose could not deny the ping of melancholy that accompanied his anger when around the man he once felt so close to.
But that was before the prince had failed their beloved Sophia. Ambroseâs sister was gone, and fair or not it was Prince Lucian Camilia that had borne the weight of a brotherâs rage in mourning. Ambroseâs even tone of voice as he answered the Prince did not disguise the look of contempt in his bronze eyes. He then turned to continue his vigilant observation of the room, leaving the siblings to talk as they may. As their voices lowered into whisper, the knight assumed the topic of conversation had switched to him, but it was not his place to know⊠Nor did knowing change the fact that despite his feelings, he was first and foremost there as their sworn protector. No amount of anger, no grudge nor animosity would see him falter in his mission.
Lost in his thoughts, but mostly in the task at hand to keep the siblings safe, Ambrose let the greater sounds of the ballroom fade and diminish into the background of his mind as he scanned the various people of the room with a knightâs acute awareness. As his watchful eyes were locked elsewhere in the room, he was completely caught off guard by the collision at his back. He turned defensively to face his collider, mind already considering potential conflicts, already switching into action. But what he saw, or rather who he saw once he turned only caught him off guard even more.
"Ambrose,"
Mina.
"I... I apologize. I wasn't looking where I was going. This crowd is... overwhelming."
Somehow, in his vigil, as he had let the sounds and voices of the nobility fade away, he had missed her introduction. Yet here she was, inches from him, when the last time the two had met eyes she was doing everything she could to pull away. Ambroseâs eyes took her in for the first time since the day she had broken his heart.
âLady BlackwoodâŠâ He muttered, voice losing the knightly confidence that was usually on display. âIâŠâ Ambrose began but stopped as he realized the woman could not look him in the eyes.
Had she been that ashamed of him? Was he such a loathsome thing to her that she could not even bear to look at him? There had been no real closure, no true healing of the wounds between them, yet he had not even realized to what degree until this very moment. It was as though he were back there in the instant of the very heartbreak itself. He looked to her here tonight, dressed in midnight blue and gold, the colors rich enough to make the candlelight linger on her. Silk clung close before falling away into a train, and golden roses had been worked into the vision of her like a declaration. Beautiful. Painfully so, but not peacefully beautiful. Not tonight.
Perhaps it was the way Lucian had been made so clearly uncomfortable by his presence staining his perception, but Minaâs own discomfort read to Ambrose as nothing but disgust for him. The wounds in his heart painted it as a hatred for him and how he would never have been good enough for her. The knight then watched those eyes of hers, the ones that could not fathom meeting his own, slip past him toward the very Prince he could not help but resent.
Lucian.
It lasted only a moment, and perhaps he imagined the way they softened. Perhaps not. Either way, the damage was done, and the fingers of his left hand twitched at his side as he swallowed down the feeling of seeing it in real time. That glance toward Lucian, brief as it may have been, was how those stormy-blue eyes once looked at Ambrose. For a moment, he was broken all over again.
âDo not worry, my lady⊠The fault was mine for being in your way.â
For the space of a breath, Ambrose was trapped there with her, with the scent of rosewater and silk, with the golden roses at her gown, with the taste of her still caught somewhere behind his tongue.
Then another voice entered the space between them. It was a mercy that Ambrose could only thank the gods for.
"Um, hello there. My apologies if we are interrupting."
Ambrose turned his head toward the speaker to see two young lords approach. The Edwards sons, if memory served. The knight said nothing. It was not his place to greet them before the royals had done so. Instead, he gave the pair a measured nod, enough to acknowledge their presence without surrendering his post.
The younger one continued, polite despite the obvious nerves.
"We offer our humblest greetings and respect to the royal family of Varian. My name is Nolan Edwards, youngest child of Duke and Duchess Edwards of Soralia, and this is my brother, Drake Edwards, eldest child and heir. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Then Lord Nolanâs gaze shifted to Marina, and an entirely different emotion pinged inside of Ambrose. One he was not very fond of.
"It's great to see you again, Princess Camilla. You look..."
Ambrose watched the pause. It was small and harmless, perhaps, but his jaw clenched all the same as he watched the boy fawn over his princess. He wasn't sure exactly what brought about the physical reaction. With Mina's sudden arrival and the way it had frayed the threads of his composure, there was less clarity about his own thoughts and feelings than the man was used to. All he new is that something about it all made him tense.
"You look lovely tonight," Nolan managed, his smile warming with an honesty that made it worse. "Very lovely."
The young lord recovered quickly, or tried to at least.
"I, uh, I hope this night has found everyone well so far. Have you all been able to enjoy your stay in Caesonia?"
Ambrose folded his hands behind his back and let the royals answer, his expression settling back into the carved stillness expected of him. Though his eyes did shift briefly to Mina, and then to Lucian, and finally to Marnie as the knight forced his emotions down and wished to be anywhere in the world other than this room.
Time: Evening Location: Danrose Castle Interactions: @princess Charlotte & @Oso Cassius Mentions: @[samreaper] Kazumin Cassiusâ response caused Olivia to snort with derision. A few people turned to stare, but she ignored them despite her cheeks flushing.
âOh, I certainly agree with you. I wouldnât know what to do if one of them came up to me.â She pulled her chair out and sat down with a grin of amusement. There was something about Cassius; he was not a pompous son of a bitch who scorned the poor and would throw them into the fire to save their pearls. She began to eat food and paused at his question. He might have been born out of wedlock, but that didnât mean he was a bastard personalityâthat was reserved for his unfortunate father. Cassius had protected and aided them after the tavern, too.
How was she? Liv paused as she considered her answer. Her mind drifted to the itchiness of her dress and the way it rubbed against her burns, the way the flats hugged her toes too tightly, the makeup caked on her face, and the godawful buzzards flocking around her. A table near them was filled with noblewomen and men, gossiping and she was sure she heard one of them mention the poor in dark light. She scowled and ignored them.
She could change her face with magic and her name to masquerade as a noble, but she couldnât take the peasantry out of her. She should have been wearing blue because she had never felt so blue in her life.
âIâm⊠Iâm here,â Olivia admitted quietly, and waved her hand at how to title her. âJust call me Liv, I donât give a shit what title you give me.â She replied with a sigh and began to eat some of the food before it disappeared. The different scents were calling to her and her stomach rumbled. For a moment, she looked like a squirrel with her cheeks stuffed. Remembering she was in public, she quickly began to chew her food and turned away briefly.
âI'm sorry.. This food is really fucking good.â She smiled at him with embarrassment, but somehow she knew inside he wouldn't judge her. âWhat about you - how are you? This is a lot for you isn't it?â
Just then, Charlotteâs name was called out. Olivia had gone to drink wine and choked on it, and quickly held napkins up to her face to cover it.
What the fuck?
What was she wearing and why? She recovered but she couldn't stop staring at Charlotte. As if nothing were amiss, Lottie joined them and greeted Cassius.
âHi, Cassius.â Olivia had barely recovered when Charlotte wiped crumbs from his face as if she had been doing it for years.
Next, Charlotte greeted her and cupped her cheek gently, causing Olivia to stare with wide-eyes at her friend. Her olive green eyes met her friend's dark blue and she searched them for an answer. Something wasnât right. Her eyes narrowed, but she didnât press her right now. Lottie looked powerful and as though she were ready to take on the world. What was happening? Shock and awe coursed through her and she wasnât sure what to do.
Gone were the ribbons and shyness that Lottie held and in with the confidence she seemed to hold back. Olivia was flabbergasted.
âYou look so beautiful, Liv.â
Beautiful? Olivia chewed the inside of her lip. Was she beautiful? She felt like an ugly duckling parading around in its mothers clothing.
âOh! Um, me? Wow. Thank you.â She replied, concerned with the fact many people were staring at them. Liv glowered at them and turned back to Charlotte. âYou look beautiful too.â She pulled a chair out for her to sit down and looked down at her food, considering the possibilities of why the hell Lottie had revamped her appearance. She drank some more wine and looked at her friend.
âAre you okay?â Olivia inquired quietly, so nobody else could hear them. She glanced at Cassius to see if he had an answer, then her gaze moved back to Lottie. âWant to sit down with us?â While waiting for an answer, she continued eating a bit more hurriedly now as if someone might come and take her food.
Charlotte had taken her attention away and it was moments later she realized Kazumin had entered. His skip and dance down the steps caused her to giggle. The sunflowers in his hat made her soften. Her cheeks flushed at the sight of him in his suit. Unexpectedly, Olivia's heart began racing as if she were running through the fields with him again. She went to wave him over, but the crowd blocked it form view and she huffed with annoyance. She needed to find him--but for now, she was preoccupied wiht Lottie's new look and apparently, attitude.
Elena hid her shock at Amiraâs lack of awareness. Instead, she gathered herself with a quiet sigh and turned to look at Nora who was on the verge of tears. Of course. They were all witchblood, after all. Elenaâs heart shattered at the sight of her triplet barely holding it together.
Elenaâs gaze shot back to Count Emil. Though he gave no outward reaction, she suspected that he was relishing their ignorance and grief. Fury rose up inside of her and the thought of smacking him crossed her mind, but she refrained. Instead, she took a deep breath and moved in front of the two girls so that they were hidden by her taller frame. If he made any attempt to side-step her, she was ready and would block him.
âLadies, why donât you go find us a table and bring food?â It was not a questionâNora would recognize it as her command to get out. She gave her a look that read: âdonât argue with me, go.â
Then, Elena spoke directly to Emil with ferocity.
âAs for you,â Elena was close enough now for him to briefly smell the mixture of lavender and smoke clinging faintly to her. âIâve heard enough about you to know that a sewer rat would be more fit for your title.â Her voice was quiet enough so that only he could hear it. âThat behavior is unbecoming of a Count and host to visiting dignitaries. Iâm certain the Crown would expect more decorum from you.â
Elena was fine, though being this close to him was far from tolerable.
(image credited by princess/na)
.gif)
