---

”Drake!” Ari exclaimed excitedly, grabbing his arm with enthusiasm.”So great to see you brother of mine” she smiled widely. As they began walking she started interrupting people as they passed by ”This is my brother!” she would say in an attempted whispered tone but instead she continued to shout, met by glares and confused looks.

The world may have been spinning slightly, but Drake did his best to hold her together. Even as her steps felt disconnected, he grounded her just enough to make it seem natural. Ariella wasn’t being forced anywhere—if anything she was the driving force behind their direction outside of a few gentle words from Drake in the form of ”Oop.”, ”This way now.”, and ”Careful, Ari.”.

The lounge near the bar was private enough. It held just enough privacy that they could talk freely. However if someone was curious or nosey enough they could certainly still slip by and seem inconspicuous.

Drake’s arms gave her more support as she was delicately placed onto the arm chair. Once seated, he took his own seat next to her and felt himself sink a little. Not out of anything negative but simply…because he had not taken a seat all night. His legs suddenly ached with the stress of being on his feet and so he couldn’t help but sigh while he looked at his sister.

”Ahh…” she let out a satisfied sigh as she fell back into the chair, her feet dangling just below her as she wiggled her sore toes.


”So. What was his name?”

Blinking, Ari looked around for a moment, dramatically shifting in the chair to nearly peek around it before looking back at her brother.

”Who’s name?”She asked slightly confused.

”Oh come now. I saw the way your eyes were. Like you were on the cusp of the world’s greatest daydream until your stuffy older brother came to be all safe and practical near you.” He chuckled and took a sip of his drink.

”What is the name of the man who made you cast such a lovestruck gaze?”

Just as Ari was about to respond, an attendant swung by offering a silver platter with a single drink on it. ”Another?” he said looking at Ari with bright eyes and a warm smile.

”Wow! Thank you!”she responded grateful taking the drink allowing the attendant to leave rather swiftly.

When the attendant came to Drake he held his hand up in silent rejection, flashing his half finished bourbon. ”I’m fine, thank you.”

Taking a long sip Ari looked over at her brother with a guilty expression she couldn’t hide even if she tried. ”Hardly lovestruck…” Ari finally managed ”I had my very first dance this evening and it was…fun. If you must know”

There was a hint of playful annoyance in her voice as she looked away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cheeks pinken.

"And... and he asked me." She pointed a finger at him as if that somehow proved her case. "It wasn't a pity dance, either."

”I would hope so!” Drake playfully interjected.

She took another quick sip of her cocktail before adding, perhaps a little too quickly, "Besides, I've had... I don't know how many of these things. You're probably just noticing that."

The excuse sounded weak even to her ears, and the faint pink creeping across her cheeks did absolutely nothing to support it.

He took another sip. Drake’s eyes scanned her subtle and not so subtle tells. ”Well the rosey cheeks could be explained with alcohol. But you speak quite fondly of the dance.”

Drake crossed one leg over the other, leaning an elbow onto the arm rest and placing his cheek against a curled first to relax himself. ”Tell me more about it.” He said with a cheeky grin.

Crossing her ankles she looked up to the corner of the ceiling " Well… I didn't trip on myself. Though he was a very good dancer… and he didn’t complain that I had no shoes on… OH!..” she looked at her brother " He didn’t even once step on my toes.“ she paused thinking back on the moment as a smile still painted her lips. She couldn’t get rid of the feeling even with however many drinks she consumed.

Drake moved his head so he could cover his mouth in a dramatic show of shock. ”He didn’t even care you wore no shoes? AND he didn’t step on your toes once?” Drake gasped sarcastically. ”He’s the one.”

" Oh he also said maybe to another dance…that he didn’t want to take up too much of my time.” She looked at her brother " Should I be worried? Do you think he hated the dance? Oh no… what if I were the terrible dancer…” she slumped back into her chair at the sudden realization before finishing her drink.

He thought about his next answer. The man’s context was limited but she seemed worried nonetheless so he spoke up. ”Maybe he was worried about his own dancing skills? That or, to speak from personal experience, a man sometimes excuse himself before emotions run too high and you do something a little overzealous for a ballroom.” Drake coughed and cast a sideways glance, not trying to meet his sister’s eye while thinking about the daring proclamations he had made with Lady Thea only moments go.

"Have you done something overzealous after a dance? she leaned forward her elbows resting on her knees as she stared intensely at him at an attempt to turn it on him. She grinned at him, the idea that her well dressed, well spoken and well manned brother would do anything of that nature was quite the scandalous thought.
Perhaps he had revealed a little too much there. His eyes still fought to find anything other than her to look at lest he further give himself away. ”Technically no.” But that answer was only because he hadn’t done it yet. ”I just know emotions can run hot during a heartfelt dance. I had one earlier, so that is why I speak on it with such…confidence.”

"With Thea?

Drake nodded. ”Yes there very same.” His eyes softened as he took one more sip. ”She’s a delight.”

Leaning back, Ari let out a thoughtful sigh. " Well, then I don't believe it was anything overzealous, you and Thea have been rather intertwined for some time now. He and I … well we just met. Looking off the side lost in thought her eyes darted back to her brother. "Why don't you have a guard?” she asked rather openly "You were more hurt then I was, but I am now having to be watched 24/7” Not that she was complaining about his company.

It seemed Drake managed to successfully dodge the important question of what he meant by “Technically”. But then her next question left him baffled. ”Where…did that come from?” Drake leaned back, eyes fully on her now. ”I can only imagine what goes on in Father’s mind. Perhaps he deems me having a guard would look poor in the public eye. But a lady having her escort? No one bats an eye to that. Plus, who knows? Maybe Nikolai is secretly watching me!” He took the last drink from his bourbon, and suddenly he felt a click in his mind.

”No, but really. Why is that suddenly important?”

Ari shrugged looking at the bottom of her empty glass "I suppose it’s not. It hasn’t been terrible. If I'm honest. almost absently mindedly, Ari suddenly blurted out "Do you think he’ll ask me to another dance?” she tipped her glass shaking it as if something would manifest from it before placing it on the table beside her chair. "He might be busy with the other ladies of the court…
Drake’s gaze tightened. ”Another?” He mused over the words a moment, not judging too harshly right off the bat, but certainly finding it amusing that of all people it was…the very person she complained about. ”Your dance partner was..Nikolai?”

Ari broke out into nervous laughter as she began to look around "Where is that attendant with my other drink…

Drake’s gaze narrowed. ”It was, wasn’t it?” The tone suggested something judgmental, perhaps a touch apprehensive. His fingers moved up the side of his face as he began to take in the news.

"Before you say anything, he was a gentleman and I really enjoyed myself.” she said, feeling the need to plead her case.

He said nothing, merely staring at her with the skeptical look of a brother who just heard about his sister’s crush.

" He may appear to be a rake but he’s actually…” her voice dropped as she felt the smile return, unable to hide it " he is a good man, I think. Besides it was only one dance, he didn’t even seem that interested in the second. I don't know, he kind of ran off… I was going to find him but then I bumped into you. For the best anyways.”

”If you ask me, he does not seem the type to offer second dances. Lest it be a different kind of dance, not on the dance floor.” He tilted his head in a brief gesture of goodwill. It couldn’t hurt to give Ariella a little hope and confidence. ”Perhaps the best just to sober you up a little. Rake or not it is best to be…fully put together when you’re with someone you intend to court. Serious or not.” Drake paused, noticing her still looking…rather pleased with herself. Like something more than a single dance should.

"Whoa..whoa whoa… intend to court!?” Ari nearly leapt out of the chair "It was one dance. she reminded him.
”How are you feeling by the way? You seem a little far along the alcohol train for it being so soon into the night.” Drake eyed his empty glass of bourbon that barely lasted 10 minutes. ”Not that I’m judging you. But how many drinks have you had?”

" How many drinks I've had is none of your concern and neither is how many dances I have either.” she said rather directly. "Besides, at least my dance wasn’t technically overzealous… she eyed her brother "What does that even mean? Does mother even know you're interested in Lady Thea? she stated as an attempt to turn the table onto her brother.

”She is…aware of it, yes.” Another flip to this back and forth in their little feud. ”If you don’t want to tell me, that is fine. But just know if you can’t count that number on one hand, then it might be hard to get that second dance. The floor will become your partner before long.” Drake snickered.

Gasping, Ari shot a look at her brother glaring at him.

”And the dance itself wasn’t overzealous, Ari. But we shared some private words to each other and made a promise and that is all little miss secrets is going to get out of me.” Drake gave a huff before crossing his arms.

" .. and I am happy for you Drake. Lady Thea is a lovely woman.”

Drake caught himself nodding before he even truly understood that he was daydreaming about her all over again. He quickly righted himself, coughing once as if that would fix it.

"But don’t write off Nik. He asked permission. He listened. He didn't make me do anything I didn't want to." Her voice softened unexpectedly. "He was... really sweet, actually." she paused looking at her brother in a calmer tone. " Give him a chance… Get to know him before you decide what kind of man he is.
She offered a small, wistful smile.

"You're probably right though. Maybe it was only ever meant to be one dance..." she admitted softly. "But... is it so wrong of me to hope it isn't? It was nice to feel chosen, even for that brief moment."

Looking away she sat back in her seat, empty glass dangling from her fingers. The attendant took notice and swiftly came over offering her another full glass and removing the empty.

The stern and firm look he gave became soft. ”Now now…” Drake’s face lifted from the fingers it rested on. ”It is not that I doubt the legitimacy of the dance or of his interest in you. It just makes me wonder the moral implications of a paid guard wanting to pursue his charge.” His hand rolled around at the wrist.

”Not that I plan to tell. If Father or Mother found out…” He quickly stopped himself. ”Just…get a good read on the man. It is very lovely he chose you. And as a brother I am happy you are enjoying his company. But also as a brother just…be careful.”

Nodding Ari took a sip of her drink. She was never one to care what either of her parents wanted, her father at least was much more understanding than her mother. Though their mother was around here somewhere probably gossiping about the latest news. She likely didn’t even notice the dance. At least she hoped.

Drake smiled at Ariella. ”Wanna hear something less lecture-y?”

Drake leaned in, shifting the tone and topic suddenly. ”Nolan’s managed to find himself in the company…of a princess~.” He spoke with extra theatrics. ”It would seem all three of us are in good company this evening.”

---

His gaze was a shield, cool and unyielding, tracing Ranya’s skin with the weight of armor and the gentleness of a caress. Yet it was his voice that truly tethered her, grounding her in the moment. When he called her Wildflower, the word did not merely ignite; it blossomed, fierce and alive, rooting itself in the barren, polished marble of the Sorian court.

It was the first name ever gifted to her that did not weigh her down, did not press her into cold stone or demand she remain untouchable. Wildflower belonged to the girl who spun barefoot through tavern haze, not the sanctified idol her father and the priests had polished for two decades. The memory of his rough, calloused hands on her face from the night before flickered through her, stealing her breath and sending a molten, dizzying heat spiraling through her chest—heat that owed nothing to the wine.

His lips hovered so close that only the thin, merciless silk kept them apart, and her breath caught, a sudden surge of heat radiating from her skin until the air itself seemed to shimmer between them. He was her anchor, a steady, unyielding presence bracing itself against the poison her family had sown. “I told you, did I not? I will endure and I will fight for you,” he murmured, his devotion a weight both fierce and beautiful, blurring the grand ballroom into a haze of gold. “I refuse to let that snake of an uncle ruin tonight, not when I have the most beautiful woman in the room in my arms.”

His nearness was a sweet torment, exquisite and sharp, as her gaze tangled with the violet of his eyes. Inside, she seethed at the silk of her veil, resenting its touch against her skin. She despised the fabric, the looming walls of the ballroom, the murmuring courtiers, and the heavy shadow Hafiz had left behind. Most of all, she loathed the rules that kept her from reaching up, threading her fingers through his auburn hair, and claiming his mouth before every watching eye.

She wanted to burn the script. She wanted to show them all how little she cared for their definitions of her purity.

“You are a very dangerous man, Askel,” Ranya whispered, a radiant, watery smile crinkling the corners of her eyes as she stepped deliberately closer, her feet gliding seamlessly in time with his soldier's stride. She squeezed his hand, her knuckles white with a desperate, beautiful longing. “You say such beautiful, unvarnished things to a woman who has spent her life surrounded by gilded lies. Hafiz may have stolen our introduction, but he cannot touch the truth I gave you under the stars. I am yours, Askel—wholly and without caution. If you truly prefer the wild girl who tastes like beer and reckless abandon, you will simply have to hold me much tighter than this. Let the court stare. I want to see if your famous Varian discipline can handle a wildfire when it refuses to be doused.”

Askel stepped in closer to her far from what would have been appropriate for a prince and his hand trailed lower down her back, his fingers tracing her hips in a way that could only be described as scandalous in the eyes of the court. Some could have seen it as possessive, perhaps uncouth, but it was the pull of her gravity that she had trapped him in. Everything about her drew him into her—this undeniable force of nature that wore the shape of a beautiful woman dressed in sharp wit and fiery passion. In turn she inspired something within him, something dizzying and all consuming that colored his cheeks that could not be blamed by the flowing libations.

"Like this?" He asked with a low voice wrapped in a delicate need. His violet eyes studied her face and filled in the gaps hidden behind her veil, like pieces to a puzzle. The cheek that had filled out his palm, the slender line of her jaw that his fingers traced,that wild halo of hair that moved like fire when she danced, and her lips so soft against his own. It caused him great agony to be separated from her by a thin layer of cloth when she was merely inches away from him and the memory of last night so fresh in his mind.

Perhaps he was dangerous. Maybe he was mad. He had given his heart away so quickly to a woman that he met in the shadows and shared a single dance with and yet, that one moment was worth more than a hundred dances with a hundred different women that never could drive the beating of his heart the way Ranya could. They could never look at him with pools of emeralds and dance barefoot on the floorboards of a brewery to the tune of clinking gold and a violin. They could never look as adorable as her with a foam mustache after drinking from a tanker that's bigger than her head. They could never speak like a poem. They could never be her.

"If I must withstand an inferno, I will. I adore you, Ranya," he declared in hushed tones. His eyes locked back onto her bruise on her slender shoulder and was filled with a similar boiling of magma in his chest from only moments ago. All he wished was to whisk her away from the confines of the ballroom's walls, from the confines of her role, from Hafiz's watchful eye.

Askel leaned in and whispered, his breath hot against her ear. "I'll kiss away every bruise, every tear, and every bit of skin Suna claims to be his until you feel at peace and loved.” He pulled back and smiled at her as they turned. "That I vow though not to things such as stars because while the promises lovers keep under them may be beautiful, they stay hidden in the day just as stars sleep. Nor do I swear by the moon for its devotion waxes and wanes. I swear to you and only you."

His hand found her hip—a bold, forbidden touch that sent a surge of heat racing through her, sharp and electric. For a heartbeat, her knees threatened to give way. She caught her breath, the sound soft and involuntary, as her body melted into his, drawn by a gravity that cared nothing for the court’s brittle rules.

“Yes,” she breathed, her voice a velvety, breathless shiver. “Exactly like that.” His breath, warm against her ear, carried a silent promise to soothe every wound she had ever hidden. Desire unfurled inside her, dizzy and bright, as he cast aside the fickle stars and the pale, retreating moon, vowing himself to her and her alone. She tipped her head back, emerald eyes catching his violet gaze, a wicked spark flaring between them—brilliant, unyielding, and hungry.

“And here I thought I was the one playing the lawless game tonight,” She murmured, her voice a low, velvety purr that brushed against his jaw as her fingers threaded playfully into the hair at the nape of his neck. “Swearing by neither the stars nor the moon, but by the woman in your arms? That is a magnificent bit of heresy, Prince Askel. If you keep using your tongue with such devastating precision, I might begin to think you are trying to ruin Suna’s Chosen for the heavens entirely…and I wouldn't stop you.”

She shifted her step in time with the music, following his lead as he guided her in this dance. She gazed up at him with a poetic, breathtaking intensity that mirrored his own unyielding devotion. “You swear by me, and so I shall swear by you,” She vowed softly, the words floating like a sacred melody between them. “I will not swear by the shifting sands of my home, for they are easily carried by the wind. Nor will I swear by the tides of the seas, for they always pull away from the shore. I swear by the hearts beating beneath our chest. I will love you through the wars we fight and the peace we build, until the sun forgets to rise over the dunes.”

She leaned in just a fraction closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous, flirtatious murmur against his ear. “But tell me, my darling knight... if I were covered in wounds from head to toe, would you truly have the stamina to chase every single one of them away with your lips?”

For just a moment Askel felt his breath leave him. A yearning, sharp and vivid, lingered persistently in his chest and whatever reason and self-discipline that remained restrained it painfully. Every touch made him wish for more and the very thought of the absence of it was like that of a phantom limb. He could never part from those intelligent eyes that shone brighter than any jewel or chandelier in these halls and held a hunger as deep as her devotion towards him. His own gaze held that same devotion, that same dark spark of desire that could be fulfilled by her and only ever her.

After a brief, yet weighty pause he finally responded to her challenge. "Leave your window open tonight and we'll both find out," he murmured, his voice rumbling like an avalanche off in a mountainous distance. A fiery heat glowed from his cheeks that failed to match the intensity that burned in his half lidded eyes like the final bits of sunlight burning the sky as it dropped past the horizon. It was not a demand, but a promise hidden away in the dead of night where only the two of them existed in each other's arms in a singular moment of time where their hearts were in alignment.

He continued to lead her through the waltz in perfect time. His gaze was piercing and steadfast, holding not a spark of hesitation or regret. "If loving you is heresy then it is the world itself that is wrong. I, however, refuse to believe in such a fallible design when you exist in my arms." stated the prince firmly though his lips curled into a playful smirk. "Though the only thing fallible right now is that veil," he almost hissed those words out despite just how lighthearted his expression was. It took every bit of will power for his hands to not rip the piece of cloth right off her face

The prince breathed out with a frustrated longing. "You have no idea how badly I want to see your face."

The rough, mountainous rumble of his voice stole the air straight from her lungs, a sharp gasp catching in her throat as she bit her lower lip beneath the silk. A wicked, dizzying smirk unfurled in the dark of her veil, her eyes darkening. The sheer audacity of the promise sent a delicious, lawless thrill racing through her veins, chasing away any remaining ghost of the court's stifling chill.

“Consider it done,” she murmured, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I shall send Zahra out for a very convenient walk with the cats, and leave the gnarled tree completely unguarded. Do try not to keep a lady waiting, my love—the night air can grow terribly cold for a wildflower.”

As he continued to guide her through the waltz, his piercing gaze holding her with a fierce, flawless certainty, the heat beneath her skin flared in perfect response. Hearing him brand the world itself as wrong before he would ever call their love a sin made her heart hammer a wild, triumphant rhythm against her ribs. He was tearing down the cold temples built to cage her, and she wanted nothing more than to help him scatter the ashes.

But when his lighthearted smirk shifted, a frustrated hiss escaping his lips as he cursed the veil, her own longing sharpened into an exquisite, unbearable ache. The silk pressing against her mouth suddenly felt less like courtly finery and more like the suffocating stitching of a shroud, keeping her from the only man who truly saw her alive. Her fingers tightened convulsively at the nape of his neck.

“You think this cloth is your enemy?” She breathed, her green eyes flashing with a desperate, hungry intensity as she leaned her forehead against his chest, her heart roaring in her ears. “I loathe it, Askel. I loathe the rules that say I must remain a bloodless statue for the crowd, and I loathe every heartbeat that passes where I cannot claim your mouth.”

She tilted her head back up, her gaze locking onto his with a sudden, reckless resolve that defied every boundary of the gala. “So why wait for the midnight moon?” She whispered, a daring, flirtatious challenge cutting through the sweeping cadence of the orchestra. “The grand vizier is busy doing whatever he's doing, and my brothers are sufficiently distracted by the wine and conversation. Sneak away with me now, my prince. Let’s find a shadow deep enough to hide us, so you can rip this miserable veil from my face and finally give me the kiss I’ve been starving for since I stepped onto these polished floors.”

She truly was like a wildfire; an all consuming, dizzying heat that robbed him of his senses and if he was not careful she would rob him of his sense of reason. Ranya was someone that was impossible to contain and yet, that was exactly what everyone else in her life tried to do for whatever reason they wished to justify. Religion, protection, politics, each a different name for the same cause. Frankly speaking, if Askel met the priests that imposed her role as Alidasht's holy idol he was not certain that he could restrain himself from killing them for making his lover's life a living hell.

He knew this was why she held such a zeal for life. Each kiss that they shared was a breath of air that had filled her lungs and each touch was a spark of warmth to revitalize a cold body. She had never truly lived a day of her life and that made her more daring, more reckless, and more hungry than what his errant hand could fulfill. Askel chuckled darkly and in a low conspiratorial whisper responded, "Ranya Al Kadir, you can never utter again that I am dangerous. You can drive a man mad with temptation."

His gaze softened their intensity though restraint colored them. He breathed a gentle sigh heavy with want."Believe me, there's nothing more I wish to do than whisk you away from here. Gods know I do..." He trailed off though a small, nervous smile graced his lips. "But my parents will be here soon and I want to introduce them to you." Askel quickly followed up, "Just as your brothers will be my family one day, my siblings and parents will also be your family too. We should share our happiness with them."

His thumb affectionately rubbed little circles in her hip, a gentle touch as if he was handling a fine piece of jewelry. "I don't want their first impression of you as someone to be tucked away in a shadowy corner or some bloodless idol that others demand of you. You're too vibrant for that. Just be your charmingly fiery, intelligent, and beautiful self that I adore," he murmured. His violet eyes looked at her as if he intended to keep her.

"They'll love you, I know they will though please expect some worry from them. We did skip quite a few steps in the courting process." A bright, yet nervous laugh passed his lips. There was no doubt that there were going to be questions from his family, a lot of questions. All these years he kept his heart closed just to focus on his singular purpose in life and now he was talking about introducing this wonderful woman he had only met recently to his family. They would probably think he had finally lost it.

"Just a little more patience my love, please. I promise each kiss will taste sweeter than the last," he implored with a half-cocked smile.

Hearing him speak her full name with that dark, breathless gravity made Ranya's toes curl against the polished marble. She wanted to laugh—bright, wicked, and entirely un-holy—at his gentle scolding. “If I am temptation, my darling knight, it is only because you provide such an exquisite anchor for it,” she murmured with a grin. “And do not look so worried. If your family thinks you have lost your mind, I shall simply have to convince them that you merely found your heart instead.”

Yet, as he spoke of his parents and the family they would build together, the desperate, hungry edge of her desire softened into a deep, aching tenderness. He didn't want to hide her away like a stolen prize or a shameful secret; he wanted to pull her into the daylight. He wanted her to be known, not worshipped. It was a beautiful, terrifying contrast to her father's stifling stasis, a love that actually wanted her to breathe.

The sheer, overwhelming weight of that nearly broke her down completely. To be seen, truly seen as a living woman rather than a recaptured ghost or a bloodless icon would continue to hit her with the force of a physical blow. A sudden, tight ache flared in her throat, a wave of profound relief so intense it threatened to bring tears to her eyes. Desperate to hide the sudden vulnerability fracturing her, she leaned forward, pressing her cheek firmly against the broad expanse of his chest. She let the sweeping movement of the waltz shield her face from the prying crowd, grounding herself in the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart.

When she finally spoke, her voice was a soft, slightly thick murmur against his coat. “Patience has never been a virtue Suna saw fit to grant me, Askel,” she confessed gently, a radiant but watery smile finally breaking beneath her veil as she blinked back the moisture. “But for you... for the man who offers me the sun instead of a gilded cage, I will be as patient as you need me to be. I promise I shall be on my absolute best behavior for your parents—charming, poised, and utterly unforgettable. They will see exactly why you chose this wildfire.”

She tilted her head back up just enough to look into his violet eyes, her gaze melting with a deeply devoted yet unrepentantly mischievous spark as she squeezed his hand. “But my window will still be open for you tonight, and I truly hope you climb that gnarled tree the very second you are free. Even if it's just so I can kiss you and be held in your arms freely without the world watching.”

Askel silently savored the weight of her head against his chest as their steps glided along the ballroom floor. There was no need to draw attention to it, to the vulnerable woman that found her comfort in him and he had no desire to betray that trust that she had in him. She may have been a wildfire incarnate, but she was still a woman made of flesh and a scaffolding of thoughts and feelings that made her, her. Ranya had her pride, she could be weak with him though she would never let the rest of the world, not even her brothers, know her innermost thoughts and feelings

No, that was only for him. Just as that devilish little spark was only for him too.

Askel smiled at her with a loving gaze that matched her intense devotion. He chuckled at her promise and brought the back of her hand to his lips and planted a kiss, his eyes never breaking from hers. "There are no restraints or distance in the world that could keep me from you. I'll run to you, always." The prince had murmured back. It was hardly just about their planned secret rendezvous under the veil of a moonlit night. The earnestness of his kiss, the light that burned in his eyes, and even the firm resolve in his words were a promise of something grander and yet so simple: he would always find his way to her.

An effervescent chuckle escaped from the prince. It almost felt wrong to feel this happy. He would already imagine the shock on his family's face though in the end they would be happy for him despite their trepidation. "Hopefully, my parents will not test me as thoroughly as my brother, Lucian." He began with a smirk. "When he wished to marry Sophia, he had... to..."

His words trailed off into nothingness as reality's icy hand gripped his shoulder to remind him of a simple, yet unchanging act: Sophia was gone. Every family portrait from now on would never be complete without her presence. She would never meet Ranya, she would never get to express her happiness to see that single minded boy had finally fallen in love, or stand by Lucian's side when he and Ranya finally married. The very thought made his eyes sting with tears that he tried to blink away.

"Sorry, it's that fresh wound you see." He said with a half-hearted laugh. "Sophia was the sister of the knight I served as a squire and the man I respect the most and Lucian's wife. I had known her since I was a child—another sister to me really—and..."

He couldn't finish that sentence. Even when the truth clung to his back he still couldn't say it; he couldn't say that she was dead.

"She isn't around anymore," was all that he managed to say. His head was hung low to hide that fragile facade of charm and strength that was beginning to crack. "And now there is an empty space in my heart for the sister that you will never meet."

The sudden, fractured halt in his voice struck her like ice water, the secret summer that had been blooming between them plunging instantly into a sharp, breathless winter. To watch his immaculate armor crack beneath the weight of a fresh, bleeding grief made her own heart fracture right along with his.

The hollow note in his confession echoed too loudly in the cavern of her chest. She knew that empty space. She knew the phantom shape of a seat left vacant at a royal table, the heavy silence over a family portrait, and how quickly a place of comfort could transform into a mausoleum. She didn't speak of her own ghosts; this was his bleeding wound. But a profound, devastating understanding rushed through her, drowning out the music, the whispering courtiers, and the entire sterile splendor of the room.

She didn't care who was watching. Let the Grand Vizier or his spies dissect the sudden break in their steps. She refused to let the man who loved her carry a ghost. With a smooth, intentional sweep of her body, Ranya altered the path of their waltz, subtly guiding him out of the main swell of the dancers and toward a quiet edge of the ballroom. She brought them to a halt, completely abandoning the rigid performance of the court. Dropping his hand, she reached up, her touch no longer playful, but entirely anchored in a tender, protective reverence.

Her fingers caressed the sharp line of his jaw, her palm resting flat against his cheek as if she could physically absorb the tremor of his grief. Before he could do anything else, she stepped entirely into his space, stood on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and burying her face against his shoulder. She held him with a fierce, grounding intensity, a subtle, comforting warmth radiating from her to thaw the sudden, icy grip of reality.

“Let it crack, Askel,” she whispered against his neck, her voice thick with raw empathy. “I am right here. I have you.” She let her fingers thread gently into the auburn hair at the nape of his neck, soothing him with slow, deliberate strokes, letting him lean into her gravity for as long as he needed.

“You do not have to say the words, my love. I hear the space she left behind, and I can feel how deeply she was cherished,” she murmured, her green eyes shining with a soft, watery devotion as she guarded his vulnerability from every prying eye.

“And do not say I will never meet her. I may not be able to see her face, but I can get to know her through you, and through your family, and every beautiful story you keep alive in her memory. She will live in the way you all loved her.” She squeezed him tightly, offering a silent, anchoring strength before softening her voice into a gentle, deeply comforting murmur.

“We do not have to share our happiness with the world tonight if the shadow is too heavy. If you need me to be your stillness instead of your wildfire, then let me be your stillness. I am yours through the grief, too, Askel. Always.”

Her touch was a grounding sensation and he leaned into it like it was his only anchor. For the entirety of the night he had been longing for the feeling of her like a man that had been deprived of rays of sunlight against his skin and the cooling breeze through his hair. And then her arms found him and wrapped around his frame like he was hers to protect. For just a moment, he stood there stunned before his arms in turn wrapped around her slowly and pressed his forehead against her shoulder.

If there was any moment for him to break it could have been, but he choked it down. He would not show a weak face not in front of Hazif, not in front of vultures that would prey upon weakness, and most importantly not even his family. He was the stalwart knight of Varian and its prince and he would refuse to be anything less than that even though a part of his heart would always be missing.

"No," Askel firmly replied. He unwrapped his arms from her and gently held her back, his face steel even when the corners of his mouth crinkled upwards. "Grief can have me, but not here. Not tonight. She wouldn't want that and I don't either." His hand without much care or regard for how others would perceive it slid beneath her veil and stole a touch that was ever so brief. A gloved finger traced the slender line of her jaw and then his thumb caressed her cheek.

He laughed, a practiced one, but could not hide the weariness that colored its tones. "Sophia would've loved you. I think you two would've been close friends if you were given the chance." No, he knew they would've been thick as thieves. There would be a time when he could tell Ranya all about her for even in his sorrow there were flickers of joy found in each memory, but tonight was not that time.

"For now we should let her ghost rest. The living must be attended to." He glanced over the groups enjoying the reverie with anticipation. Any moment his parents would be announced and he as their dutiful son would need to perform his duties as a prince of Varian.

He looked back down at his beloved with a look of obvious worry. "Are you sure you're okay with meeting my family? I know we've skipped a few steps in the courting process, but we don't have to rush this if it's too much."

The sharp pull of his muscles as he stepped back was a physical jar, leaving a cold draft where their heat had just been perfectly fused. When his voice came out steeled with that unyielding Varian discipline, her heart gave a painful squeeze. It broke her to watch him choke down a bleeding wound just to keep his armor intact before the vultures of the court, yet a familiar spike of irritation flared beneath the ache.

She understood the necessity of the mask, she wore one every day, but it infuriated her that the world had made him this way. That even in her arms, he felt he had to remain an unbreakable statue here. Still, the way his thumb caressed her cheek beneath the silk instantly melted her annoyance, leaving only a liquid tenderness. Hearing him say Sophia would have loved her warmed her chest, a genuine ache expanding beneath her ribs. She quietly, deeply wanted to know the woman who had helped shape his soul. But those ghosts could rest until a later time, as he said. So she merely leaned into his touch, savouring it, as she gently nodded in acceptance.

When he looked down with tender worry, asking if she was truly ready for his family, a soft, melodious giggle finally escaped her lips—a flash of the tavern girl cutting right through the somber air.

“Prince Askel, after you were forced to endure the interrogation of my brothers and the venomous gaze and words of my uncle, you truly think I would shrink away from meeting your family?” she teased, resting her hands against his chest. “It is only fair that I face your trials in return. In fact, I am quite looking forward to it. If they are partly responsible for shaping you into the magnificent knight holding me, then I'll be delighted to meet them.”

As the bold promise of her devotion lingered, the heavy reality of their surroundings pressed inward again. Beyond here they stood, the court was a cage of watchful eyes. Ranya’s gaze flickered outward as she caught movement, bouncing between the glittering clusters of nobility.

A few paces away, an elder courtier murmured into his companion’s ear, eyes darting toward them. To their left, three noblewomen brought their painted silk fans upward, tracking the proximity of the prince and the princess. Further down, a young lord subtly pointed a beringed finger, whispering fiercely to his wife.

A small, defensive heat coiled in her stomach, the weight of their scrutiny chafing like raw wool. Something was different now. Turning her head, her emerald eyes met his, a faint note of tight tension clipping her voice.

“Askel... Is it just me or do you also notice an increasing number of people looking at us?” she whispered, her gaze sharpening as it tracked another pair of whispering courtiers.

His heart fluttered happily in response to the sonorous tune of his lover's laugh. It put him at ease to know that even when his parents and siblings will look at their relationship with worry and their own personal judgements for the alacrity and swiftness that she would stand by his side through thick and thin. He did truly hope though that they would give them a chance or at least would reserve their judgement until the evidence showed that they were a very compatible couple.

But that happiness soon fled and was replaced by a sense of unease as Ranya pointed out that people were focused much more on them than before. His eyes narrowed as he glanced around gossiping nobles with varying degrees of subtlety.

Askel whispered back with a similar tension, "We haven't exactly been making an effort to hide our relationship... Not like Hafiz gave us a choice in that matter though." His hand had been placed rather scandalously on her hip when they danced and of course the sort of intimacy they shared away from the dance floor was perhaps more than what some would expect of a prince and Suna's Chosen?

Why in the world did it feel like their gazes were specifically disapproving of him?

"No, you're right. This is weird." Askel whispered again with confusion bleeding into his voice.

“This reeks of my uncle,” she whispered back, the velvety purr of her voice sharpening into a lethal murmur. She tilted her head, letting the emerald fire of her gaze slice through the edge of her gold-trimmed veil toward the whispering courtiers until they flinched away behind their painted fans. “He never leaves a stage empty without setting his actors in motion. He wants the court to see a scandal, rather than the truth.”

Let them stare. Let them bleed their disapproval into the dark. They didn't see a woman who had finally found a fierce, unyielding anchor; they saw a holy idol being pulled down from her altar.

Ranya smoothed the tight tension from her shoulders with practiced, diplomatic grace. She rested her palms flat against his chest one last time, feeling the steady, powerful rhythm of his heart, refusing to let the vultures steal this victory from them. Then she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek through her veil.

“But he forgets that fire cannot be frozen by disapproving glares,” she murmured, a sudden, brilliantly defiant smile touching her lips beneath the silk as she stepped into perfect alignment beside her prince, ready for whatever the court threw at them next. “Stand tall, my darling knight. I intend to show this entire miserable ballroom exactly how magnificent supposed heresy can be.”

Askel could only smile at her. His heart thrummed a content rhythm beneath her touch. "Then let's step back into the fray."

Rumors may try to seek any opening in his armor, but with her he would gladly endure them.

Intelligence Officer

Lieutenant James Clearwell

Time: 10th Ignis, Evening
Location: Castle Ballroom - Starry Night Ball
Attire: Formal Attire
Accent: Sorian Merchant Quarter
Interactions: Marina @princess, Sylvia @AuthenticTomb
Mentions: Ranya @Tae, Askel @Remram

The slam of her turkey leg onto her plate marked a change in his thoughts.

Oh no. He’d gone looking for a co-conspirator and found a crusader, and it was too late to change course.

At least she hadn’t charged off immediately, though her theatrics made him question what he’d just done. His eyes briefly followed the fork down to her thigh before averting sharply, appalled. Why was she holstering a fork? He just hoped no one saw him seeing that.

Those eyes drew back to Marina as she mentioned evil. She sounded like the Captain when they would go hunting.

It had just become rather difficult to make like they weren’t talking, but maybe that act wasn’t meant to last. He turned toward her with a healthy balance of food on his plate. He’d eat lightly while she spoke, lightly enough he could quickly swallow and speak at any moment.

“And by casual and innocent, I mean we are going to find out who the fuck dares.”

Marina’s temper was choosing her tactics. He spoke with a conversational tone, “your first instinct was the better one,” but his eyes were more cautious. Perhaps being royalty gave her leverage to be so bold.

Being bold here could fan the flames, and the Captain’s love of making things very difficult had made sure there was plenty of tinder laying everywhere.

“And I know just the girl who can help us…”

”We should-”

"Ooooh, who is it? You have to tell me, Marnie!”

“.. stick to casual and innocent.” James shifted his attention to the second princess, dissatisfied with the yet-higher profile he’d just gained.

"I don't know what kind of relationship advice I can offer. I think it is too soon for you both."

James smiled kindly, almost apologetically, “oh, humble me? No, no,” he waved gently with one hand, “I’m just a squire, doing his good deeds for the evening.”

He needed to brief them both. Quickly, quietly. In a room full of people - socialites, even.

“Come closer, won’t you? I have a story exclusively for Varian princesses.” The nature of his smile changed only slightly, gaining confidence, losing the apology.

He’d let them gather closer before he’d begin,

“Following the Grand Vizier’s announcement surrounding the,” a quick glance at the dance floor, “apparent courtship of Shehzadi Ranya and Prince Askel, I heard rumors focused on the speed of their relationship, Shehzadi Ranya’s innocence, and Prince Askel’s,” he paused, considering how to phrase it that wouldn’t cause Princess Marina to shoot off, “restraint around women. Steady, now.” His head and eyes shifted toward Marina, but he did not look directly at her. His eyes shifted back to his plate and he picked a small morsel, allowing the Princesses a moment to absorb what he’d said in a graceful manner.

It was something Captain Durmand said when anxious men needed to be held to the line, though he’d softened the delivery for his situation.

“The rumors have been spreading quickly. Too quickly. As though, perhaps, it’s all someone can talk about.”

James gave a low, slow sigh as he chewed another small morsel, considering how this connected to him and the interest he was representing. “I should tell you, I’ve my own reason for doing this. The Captain and,” he hesitated, censoring Askel’s name, “your subject of interest were seen together a little more than a week ago, for some time. Had a spar, went to lunch. They seemed friendly - not like that, but it’s ready fuel; with collateral. And,” James sighed, again, “the Captain appreciates hard work. Openly. With her eyes.” How did he get here again?

James took the time to take a breath, “I can’t point any fingers, yet, but I can tell you the rumors were shaped to attack purity as foolishness. I can only imagine a sibling might get protective,” a short, sharp inhale marked a thought, his eyes widened slightly, “perhaps even react. There may well be a messenger at work.”

“The rumor is already alive within the room. The messenger should be bringing the worst version to the most volatile ea-” James cut himself off while his eyes lifted, then flicked between the two princesses related to someone involved in the rumor. “Ears.”

What did he just do?

Time: Night
Location: Grand Ballroom balcony
Interactions: @Remram Magnus and @Infinite Cosmos Munir

Magnus cleared his throat. "I merely followed after her due to concern. However, it turns out her company is pleasant to keep." His blue eyes stole a glance from her with just the briefest smile before turning his sights back to the man. "Magnus Pawonska. I believe you've recently become acquainted with my sister, Nora Pawonska. The woman in the red dress." It was a simple acknowledgement followed by a smile just as simple.

In that briefest of moments when his eyes caught hers, Amira could feel her heart jump up into her throat. She suddenly had no words to say, just staring back at Magnus with a growing aching hunger as he went on with his conversation with her cousin.

"Lord Pawonska. It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. To say I came out here to catch my breath would be... a rather creative interpretation of the truth. I merely noticed my cousin being cornered by a gentleman of your... impressive stature and thought it only proper to introduce myself." His gaze briefly shifted toward Amira, noting she had already restored the respectable distance expected between herself and a gentleman. "Ah... Lady Nora. Well... I do intend on asking for her hand..." Munir allowed the sentence to linger just long enough for its more scandalous meaning to bloom before the corner of his mouth curled into a grin. "...for a dance. Though now you've made me curious. Am I expected to seek permission from her elder brother first? Is that the custom in Caesonia? If so, Lord Magnus, would you grant me the honor of asking your sister to dance?" He chuckled softly. "In any case, I should probably ask the lady herself before negotiating terms with her family. We are gentlemen, after all."

It seemed as if Munir's little jest struck a target that he had not aimed from as Amira was shocked from her dreamy gaze to look at him in shock and delight. Only for the moment next to be slightly disappointed. Yet she found herself still all grins, it seemed that her newfound friend might also get her romantic dream granted to her just as she had.

Turning back to Amira, his expression softened. "Cousin, I am glad to see you're smiling again. Please enjoy the rest of your evening." Leaning in just enough for only her to hear, he added with perfect seriousness, "And if Lord Pawonska should trouble you in even the slightest way... drive your knee upward with confidence. I can personally guarantee he'll rethink every decision that led him to that moment." Straightening again, he offered Magnus an innocent smile. "Nothing personal, Lord Pawonska. Merely encouraging healthy self-defense." A wink to Amira followed. "Now then... you two behave yourselves."

Her eyes widened in surprise at her cousins suggestion leaving her chuckling awkwardly. Why would she ever need to do that? Lord Magnus had been a perfect gentleman. She could not for one moment even imagine that she would need to take such actions. After all this was a romance story, the exact kind she loved, instead of the dark novels she would not even touch.

Instead when Munir made his quick leave out the door and surely to the woman he had just mentioned, Amira turned to look shyly at the man before her.

"I know it is customary that the gentleman would be the one to request a dance," she could hardly even look him in the eyes. Yet she dared forward as she got just a touch closer and looked up at him with those large amber eyes that admired him so, "But, I am hardly ready for this night to end."

It was a peaceful night that’d descended over Sada Kurau. Gentle swells washed against her hull, and the sky above was clear, dotted by the shimmering light of myriad stars. Upon her decks, her crew went about their work—and she did always have work for them, regardless of the time of day—in good spirits. Laughs and chatter, hummed tunes and quiet songs, filled the air as they polished tackles, mended nets, swabbed guns, and fixed ropes, all within the warm glow of lanterns.

The rifle-armed sentries standing guard around Sada Kurau were a touch less cheery, however. They kept watchful eyes on the moonlit waters, peering into the darkness and searching for any signs of trouble. Still, they allowed themselves the occasional joke and chuckle with passing crewmen, and readily accepted the smoking pipes they were offered.

Indeed, for a warship like Sada Kurau, this was all very, very peaceful. Idyllic, even.

Sjan-dehk supposed that it was this rare feeling of tranquility, of calm, that was making him drowsy. Sitting behind his desk in his cabin, he’d planned to spend a good portion of the night finishing the administrative work he’d been putting off. But now as he looked at the multitude of reports he’d yet to complete—or even yet to start—and the mess of charts and maps he’d yet to properly organise, his eyes grew heavy, and his mind slowed. When was the last time he’d had an early night? Or even a timely one?

He shook his head.

No, this wasn’t the time to think about sleep. Such opportunities to get some work done didn’t come easily, and he had to seize them while he could. And so, he picked up his brush—taking a bit of time to adjust his grip—and carefully swiped its tip against the wet inkstone sitting on a corner of his desk. Then, he brought the brush to the perfectly blank bamboo scroll laid flat in front of him.

Then, he yawned.

It wasn’t a small one, either, but one of those big, noisy ones that had him blinking away the tears clouding his vision afterwards. He rubbed both eyes with the back of his wrist, leaving them feeling even more sore, and likely even redder than before. A quiet, partially-frustrated, but mostly relieved sigh left his lips, and he set the brush down, right beside the scroll.

Well, that was that. He was hardly in any shape to do any clerical work, was he? Clearly, he needed to get some sleep. Some well-deserved sleep—it’d been such a hectic few weeks that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d snatched more than a handful of hours of it per night. And who knows? Maybe he’d wake up feeling well-rested enough, fresh enough that he might not even mind doing such tedious work.

And so, he stepped away from his desk, moved over to his cot, and didn’t lay on it as much as he fell onto it. He folded his hands over his stomach and let out another sigh—this one more relaxed than the last—as he felt the strain in his back and shoulders gradually fade away. Above him, shadows danced and flickered on the ceiling, courtesy of his desklamp. And under him, Sada Kurau rocked steadily and gently, her frame creaking rhythmically in time with the quiet rush of waves. He chuckled quietly, mostly at himself. How had he never noticed just how peaceful it was, just to lie here and allow himself to slowly drift away?

Perhaps he needed to do this more often.

It was with that thought echoing dully in his mind—a ripple travelling across a sea of fading thoughts—that sleep finally took a hold of him. He drew in a deep breath, and exhaled slowly, shifting on his cot to get into a better, more comfortable position.

He closed his eyes…

---

---

Sjan-dehk’s eyes snapped open.

His first breath came as a loud gasp, like a drowning man desperate for air, and he shot upright so quickly, so forcefully that he almost threw himself off his cot. Sweat dripped from his brow in beads; it soaked right through his inner shirt, staining his outer tunic with splotches of dark blue. A dull, throbbing ache pulsed in his temples. His shoulders rose and fell rapidly in time with his short, shallow breaths.

Grunting and cradling his head, he swung his legs over the side of his cot. His boots landed on the familiar wooden floor of his cabin with a quiet thud. He took a moment to compose himself, breathing in slowly and deeply, massaging his temples, and blinking away the fuzzy shapes and colours blurring his vision.

Then, he took a look around.

It was still pitch black outside his window, and the lamp on his desk still burned. Its flame danced within its glass case, painting the cabin’s walls in warm, fiery hues. Sada Kurau still rolled and dipped with the same gentle waves as she had when he’d climbed onto his cot earlier. He hadn’t been asleep for long, then. Had this been any other night, he would’ve grumbled about his lack of rest. But after that dream—or rather, that nightmare—he was glad to be awake.

A ghostly breeze whispered past his ears.

“Oh? Thou still believest thyself to have dreamt?”

It was her voice.

The veiled lady.

In an instant, the air chilled. The lamp’s flame wavered and cowered, its light flickering wildly and throwing dancing shadows all across the walls. Terror closed its icy fingers around Sjan-dehk’s thumping heart. The hairs on the back of his neck, and on his arms, stood on ends. Every one of his instincts screamed for him to look away, but something compelled him to turn towards her voice.

At first, he saw nothing.

Then, he blinked, and saw her.

Sitting on his desk, with robes floating and flowing about her like ink upon water, with her pale feet peeking out from the dark hems of her skirt, and with her face hidden behind an intricately laced veil, she appeared exactly as she had in his nightmare. Sjan-dehk’s breath hitched. His mouth grew dry. The veiled lady tilted her head in response, almost mischievously, as if amused by his reaction.

“Wh-What is—” he stuttered. She didn’t let him finish.

“I told you, my dear Jafin child,” she whispered, her words trailing away as she dissipated into a dark cloud of mist. The grey cloud rushed towards him, closing the distance in one frantic, terrified heartbeat. He tried to scramble away, but his back crashed into Sada Kurau’s hull instead. Before his very eyes, the dark mist swirled, coalescing and reforming into the veiled lady. She loomed over him.

“We have an accord,” she continued, her smile evident in her words. “And thus I shalt be watching you, my dear Sjan-dehk. For the moment, at least. Thou shalt not be disappointed by mine presence, and ‘tis mine hope that thou shalt not disappoint me.”

Sjan-dehk’s blood froze in his veins.

That nightmare had been real.

He swallowed hard. His sweat grew cold.

This couldn’t be good.