[IC] 🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

[Potter]

Time: Evening
Location: Danrose Castle
Interactions: @AuthenticTomb Aslam, @RemRam Askel, @SilverSpring Violet
Mentions:

---

"Lady Kira, you look... uncomfortable. Are you quite alright?"

Kira turned to Prince Askel and smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. ”Never better, my dear. Don’t worry, you pretty little red head.” She patted his head with a playful grin and removed her hand. She was curious on how he’d react to that. ”But I do thank you,” she finished with a grin.

Listening to the two of them ramble on about their romances had Kira wanting to yawn.
Information was still important though, so she continued listening. She maintained her pleasant aura and remained focused on the men with her. Aslam finally left his romance reverie and turned to her. She did note the bitterness in his voice and stored it for later. While she listened, she continued indulging in her wine as though it was her life preserver.

"Is there something amiss? We could step outside if you need some fresh air?"

”Thank you for the concern. I’m fine, gentlemen, but I do appreciate your concern. I shall bid you both goodbye for now, though I do look forward to getting to know both of you more.” Kira curtsied for Askel, and then provided the traditional Alidasht bow to Aslam.

Kira smiled sweetly at them both and disappeared into the crowd. Her eyes scanned the room until she found her. Kira smiled and waltzed up to Violet with a grin, noticing how alone she looked. The girl’s black hair and red eyes stood out amongst the crowd.

”Hi there, how are you?” Kira inquired as she joined her. She made sure to hide her accent and voice as much as she could so as not to remind the girl of the night she had stabbed her brother thrice. ”I’m Malia. It’s nice to meet you.”

[Lava Alckon]

Farim

Location: Danrose Castle
Time: 10th of Ignis
Mentions: Magnus @Remram, Anastasia @princess, and Ariella @SilverSpring



Farim smiled at the comment – “until I met Farim”. It was both flattering and eye-opening about how much their chance meeting had changed the course of their lives. Turning towards Magnus, he was also intrigued by his taste. He seemed like quite the honest and forthcoming gentleman. It was so rare to see those nowadays.

The men he was more used to were those like Count Emil, whose voice dripped with ulterior motives laced with personal desire. He tried to push his perception of that creep out of proverbial earshot. ”I have to say, your answer is as political as they come. But I do not sense that you answer like this because it is safe. Your intentions and desires are noble, Sir Magnus. I like that.” Farim nodded in approval.

”I once had my own lofty expectations of romance. I was young, and found myself chasing any pleasure I could. But these types of chases do not soothe the soul, nor fill the heart. This took me a long time to learn. It took me longer still to even find someone who matched me in all the right ways. To see me for me, and not just the assets that I provide. A joyful beacon of light that shines through even the murkiest of waters. I realize I am putting her on a pedestal right now but frankly, she deserves it.” He smiled at her warmly.

It was shortly after this that a loud performance began. One from Mr. Kazoo the Step Meister. Farim tilted his head, leaning to whisper into Anastasia’s ear. ”This is certainly an interesting turn of events.” He almost asked what she thought her father would think of a performance like this. But he did not think it would be wise to bring him up right now. He frankly did not want to think of the man either aside from what interactions were socially required of him.

Just as quickly as it finished, it ended. And Farim was left confused yet impressed with the young man’s footwork. It was here that Ariella made her entrance, and came to greet the group. He returned her bow with one of his own. ”Always a pleasure, Lady Ariella. I would not mind at all but it is as you say. It is more her choice than mine.” He gave her arm a slight tug and squeeze–a gentle reminder that even if she parted for the moment he would be with her at the drop of a turban.

[princess]

_{Mention:@Chrys Amira @Oso Cassius @SilverSpring Violet @Potter Elena @Tae Mina @samreaper Kazumin}

Count Calbert Damien waited until Edin’s attention was no longer claimed before approaching with Countess Liliane at his side. If the Count had taken offense to being cut off moments before, Edin saw no trace of it. Lesser nobles carried humiliation so obviously. Calbert did not. Calbert understood restraint and the value of approaching a king properly.

That was why Edin liked him.

There were few noblemen left in Caesonia who could be trusted to do more than preen or pray loudly when matters turned difficult. Calbert Damien was not one of them. He was useful and reliable when something unpleasant needed doing. And as Edin's eyes fell on the man, he could not help but notice how luscious and thick his hair was.

Calbert bowed perfectly as always. “Your Majesty,” Calbert greeted smoothly. “Countess Damien and I wished to offer our gratitude for the evening. It is no small thing to give the kingdom light when so many would rather stare into the dark.”

Liliane curtsied beside him gracefully. “The ballroom is beautiful, Your Majesty,” she said warmly. “It is a comfort to see the court gathered beneath your roof tonight. Caesonia needed this.”

Edin regarded them both with a faint nod. Liliane had chosen her words well. “You are kind to say so, Countess.”

Calbert’s smile softened. “Kindness has its uses, Majesty, but I prefer accuracy. There are moments when uncertainty breeds poor judgment in lesser men. I am relieved Caesonia does not suffer from that weakness at its center.”

The compliment found its mark. Edin did not smile broadly, but his expression eased. “Thank you, Count Damien.”

Calbert inclined his head, accepting the acknowledgment without appearing hungry for it. Then his gaze moved briefly over the ballroom as he continued,“Still, Majesty, I would be remiss if I did not ask after the matter of protection.” His tone remained calm.

Edin already knew where this was going. He exhaled through his nose.

Calbert continued smoothly, as if he had not noticed. But of course he had. “Given recent disturbances, and the unfortunate habit certain names have developed of appearing near them, I had hoped the additional precautions I requested were not considered excessive.”

Edin lifted two fingers in a subtle motion toward the far side of the ballroom. Calbert followed the indication without turning his head too obviously. Two guards stood near the columns, their attention fixed not on the exits, nor the crowd, but on Violet and Cassius. “Your daughter and son are being watched,” Edin said. “Discreetly. As requested.”

Calbert’s face did not change, but Edin saw the satisfaction pass behind his eyes. “Countess Damien will be watched after as well,” Edin added, his gaze flicking to Liliane. “If trouble finds this ballroom, it will not find your family unattended.”

Liliane dipped her head. “You honor us, Your Majesty.”

Calbert placed a hand over his heart as he declared with utmost sincerity, “You have my thanks. As a father, as a husband, and as your servant.”

Servant. Edin liked that.

Then Calbert smiled again. “Tonight, everyone sees that the Crown has not retreated. That matters more than many in this room are clever enough to understand.”

Edin watched him for a long moment. Finally, his chin lifted. “The Damiens have always understood the value of order.”

“The Damiens understand the value of survival,” Calbert corrected gently, and with a grin as they made their way back into the thick of it.

Calbert and Liliane had scarcely withdrawn before the next name was called.

Edin had watched them go, pleased despite himself. Then the herald announced the next arrival, and Edin’s attention shifted to the next entry: Elena Pawonska.

There was beauty there, certainly, but not the sort properly arranged for a ballroom. She was wearing trousers for one thing. And Edin HATED a woman in pants!

Edin’s gaze then lowered briefly to her hands... Not soft enough.

And when she greeted him, there was no delicate fluttering, no sweetness, no eager attempt to dazzle him... She gave him respect, but not worship. Her curtsy was correct. Her words were correct. Her smile was pleasant enough to pass. Her face was beautiful... But the pants.

“Good evening, Lady Pawonska,” he replied, his voice composed despite the grimace on his face as his eyes had fixated on those stupid trousers of hers.

His eyes held hers a moment longer. She was a dead ringer for the other brunette that Amira was talking to currently. It took him a moment to recall the Pawonskas of the Varian Kingdom. The Pawonskas were peculiar, that was for certain. Edin knew enough about them to distrust the family, though Sven was a rather wonderful presence whenever he did come to Caesonia. “Enjoy the ball,” he added, dismissing her with a slight lift of his hand.

Next were the Blackwoods. Edin received Sebastian Blackwood with a smile, though his attention did not remain on the man for long. His gaze moved instead to the young woman beside him, taking in the midnight blue silk, the lowered neckline, the gold roses. Mina Blackwood was beautiful, certainly. Beautiful enough to make a man forgive a great deal for an evening.

But not enough to make a queen.

Disgusting rumors clung to her too thickly for that. Edin had heard enough of Lady Blackwood and had thought the very same of her ever since the first ball... And it was a pity, really. There was something eager in her tonight, and Edin could imagine taking pleasure in such eagerness if the night allowed it.

“Count Blackwood,” Edin replied with a faint nod. “Lady Mina. You honor us with your presence tonight.”

His eyes lingered on Mina a moment longer before he let them pass onward, already sorting her into the proper place in his mind.

The herald had barely finished before Edin’s gaze found Charlotte Vikena. For a moment, he did not see the girl at all.

That midnight gown... He knew that dress.

He had bought it years ago for Emina, when the two of them had a bargain that no one in this room was meant to remember. And now Charlotte wore it as if it were her own, and she entered as if she wanted the room to look.

Edin’s expression did not change, but something inside him stirred unpleasantly. He had never taken Lady Charlotte for ambitious. Strange, certainly. Fragile in the way the Vikenas always became fragile. Perhaps the rumors were right, and Emina’s death had loosened something in her. Or perhaps Lorenzo's madness had truly left its mark on her.

Had she chosen it by accident, or had she come wearing that particular dress on purpose?

Edin wondered if she had come here with her heart set on the crown, using such a dress in his moment of mourning to manipulate his loneliness and become his queen. But she never approached him. Instead, Charlotte’s gaze found the Damien bastard, and she immediately went his way.

So not a queen, then.

Only a foolish girl in a dead woman’s dress, playing at power. Or perhaps she hoped to seduce him because grief and madness had made her reckless. The papers had already whispered enough about her fragile nerves after the last ball.

No matter. Edin was here to find a queen.

And if the crown required virtue, loneliness required far less. Perhaps he would simply select a few promising distractions and invite them to dinner.

Then Mr. Kazoo, the Skip Meister arrived, and Edin almost leaned out of his seat as his gaze found his favorite performer.

Then Kazumin Nagasa began to move.

At first, Edin tried to watch with the detached patience of a king indulging a fool. The hat, the sunflowers, the strange little bounce in his step, all of it should have been absurd. Yet within moments, the room changed. Faces that had been stiff with grief turned toward him. Someone laughed. Then another.

The boy was not merely dancing. He was relieving the room.

He had taken all the tension Edin had been trying to bury beneath chandeliers, wine, and gold, and somehow skipped straight through it with a big hat and a smile bright enough to offend sorrow itself. The nobles watched because they could not help it.

A sound rumbled from Edin’s chest that hadn't been heard in days: Laughter.

It came out deep and ugly at first, then louder, bellowing through the space around the throne as his hand struck the armrest with sudden delight. “Ha!” he barked, eyes brightening. “There he is!”

Genius, Edin thought. Absolute, ridiculous genius.

Even the mention of Alibeth did not sour the effect enough to ruin it. The prayer was bold, perhaps even foolish, but it allowed grief to exist without challenging the throne.

By the Gods, the boy had done it again.

A smile spread across the King’s face before he could stop it, broad and delighted and entirely lacking dignity.“Mr. Nagasa!” Edin’s voice boomed once the young man finished before him. “You absurd little creature! You have brought a much-needed light into a difficult evening.”

He leaned back against the throne, studying the sunflowers bobbing on the boy’s hat as though they were jewels in a crown.

Joy, true joy, was harder to summon on command. Somehow, this strange puppet boy had done it with his feet.

Edin’s smile lingered.

Perhaps he had been right the first time.

Perhaps Kazumin Nagasa was not merely amusing.

Perhaps he was necessary.

[princess]

_{Interaction: @Remram Askel @AuthenticTomb Aslam
Mention:@Tae Ranya @Infinite Cosmos Munir @samreaper Kazumin @Potter Kira}

The ballroom was loud enough to irritate him.

Caesonian balls were always noisy things: in their splendor, in their music, and in the audacity of those invited to mistake themselves for important.

Hafiz stood near the edge of the room, his face composed into the same unreadable mask he usually wore. His gaze followed Kazumin as the boy danced through the crowd, ridiculous with sunflowers in his hat. The nobles laughed, charmed by the performance, eager for anything that would let them forget the burning sight of their queen.

Fools were always grateful for distraction.

Yet something about the way Kazumin pranced about began to irritate him beyond reason. The cowlicked boy-man felt like a living caricature of everyone around him: bright, absurd, aimless, convinced his little movements meant something. Around and around he went, over and over and over, until the sight of him became nearly unbearable.

Hafiz nearly bit the inside of his lip.

The season had not gone as cleanly as he would have preferred, to say the least.

Too many of his blood, and too many of the Sultan’s children, had mistaken distance from home for freedom. Still, the season had only begun. Failure was a temporary state when one had patience, and Hafiz had built much of his life on allowing others to underestimate how long his hand could remain still before it closed.

His attention shifted to Ranya.

She was playing her part well enough: veiled, golden, radiant… holy for those who needed holiness to be beautiful. Yet her eyes betrayed her. They kept gravitating toward one of the Camilia princes as he spoke with Hafiz’s nephew, Aslam. Hafiz’s grip tightened around his wine glass as his attention settled on the red-haired prince, who seemed foolish enough to return those yearning glances.

As if that were not irritating enough, the curly-haired fool who had been sniffing around Nahir at the banquet was here as well. That problem, at least, had been almost insultingly easy to correct. A few carefully placed words had been more than enough to spin the story and send Nahir back home.

Then Munir approached Ranya, and that took his attention.

He looked upset, which irritated Hafiz almost as much as the glance itself. The boy could charm a hostile room when he wished, but distress made him careless. Hafiz had always thought Munir perhaps the least promising of Raif’s offspring, all beauty and appetite with too little discipline to sharpen either into power. But perhaps even Munir had grown curious about Ranya’s choice in men.

Hafiz drifted closer, interested enough to hear the conversation, but the dancing couples too often walled him off before he could get near enough.

No matter.

He found himself nearer to the other pair that had caught his interest, and was even able to take a moment to inquire about the red-headed prince's name.

Aslam was too close to Askel for the timing to be innocent. Hafiz could not help but wonder how much Aslam knew about what was transpiring between Ranya and Askel. If Ranya had confided in him, then she had forgotten herself more deeply than Hafiz had hoped. If she had not, then perhaps she feared he would guess.

Either way, it required attention.

And Askel required examination.

A sentimental foreign prince would have been easy to handle. But Askel did not carry himself like a fool. It meant he knew enough to hide what he wanted, but not enough to stop wanting it.

Hafiz adjusted one sleeve of his blue robes and crossed the ballroom.

When he reached Aslam and Askel, his smile was pleasant.

"Prince Askel."

He offered Askel a shallow incline of his head, courteous enough for diplomacy, then turned his gaze to Aslam.

"Shehzade Aslam."

His eyes lingered on Aslam a moment longer than required.

"I see you have found a new friend."

Then Hafiz looked back to Askel. "A wise choice, perhaps. The louder parts of this room are beginning to test my patience, so I thought I might seek more worthwhile conversation...Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Grand Vizier Hafiz Kadir of Alidasht... And you, Prince Askel, have drawn more attention tonight than I suspect you intended." A smile curled on the Grand Vizier's lips.

[princess]

????

_{Interaction:@CitrusArms Stratya
Mention:@Redking0380 Fareed @HylianRose Nik}

---

The man in black approached as though the group had been expecting him, his green eyes fixed on Stratya with an intimacy that was rather unsettling considering they were strangers. At least to Stratya’s knowledge, that is.

He knew her name from Church files before he knew her face, from the Lancaster inquiry and the troubling little gaps left around the body they never found. To him, the late Queen’s death had not merely changed the court; it had made room to cut away certain indulgences, and a woman wearing command was chief among them. Trusting Alibeth with responsibility had been Edin's first mistake. Trusting this... woman... to be his captain would be his next.

He did not even glance at the towering Alidasht man beside her. He did not acknowledge the dark-haired gentleman either. They might as well have been part of the decor.

“Captain Durmand,” he greeted as he came to stand before her, his smile forming very slowly and unpleasantly pleased. “There you are.”

His gaze dragged over her openly, taking in her mouth, her shoulders, the strength beneath her formal wear, and the hands that could never quite pretend to be soft. When his eyes returned to hers, they carried not desire, but judgment. “I had wondered whether the armor made you look masculine,” he said, stepping closer than courtesy allowed. “But no. It seems Primitus shaped you the way intended beneath all.”

The sunburst pendant at his chest caught the ballroom light as he looked down at her hands. “Rough hands. Scarred skin. A soldier’s posture... A man’s work written plainly over a woman’s body.” His smile widened. “Tell me, Captain, do men still pretend not to notice? Or have they simply learned to admire you from far enough away that they need not imagine?”

He let the words sit there, as if he had offered her a kindness. “...Poor thing...But perhaps mercy comes in strange forms. The Queen is dead, and with her, I imagine, whatever foolish tolerance kept you dressed in command. King Edin has always loved order, and order does not place women above proper men.”

He came closer and whispered, “You must know what comes next. Dismissal. Humiliation... Some lesser post, perhaps, if they are feeling charitable.”

His eyes moved over her again, slower this time, as though he were deciding what parts of her were salvageable.
“And yet…” he murmured, “Primitus teaches that even iron may be bent beneath sufficient heat.”

He extended his hand, not asking so much as presenting the next step.
“Dance with me.” the man demanded. “...You will find, Captain, that when the world is finished applauding your little rebellion, there are still men willing to show you where a woman belongs.”

His smile returned. “And I am not a man who enjoys being refused.”

[princess]

Time: Evening
Location: The Castle Ballroom
Interactions: Farim @Lava Alckon Magnus @Remram Ariella @Silverspring
Mention: Kazumin @samreaper
Attire: Dress

---

"We do look pretty great together." Anastasia agreed with Magnus, offering him a smile that was sweet, if not quite as bright as her usual ones. It lingered on her face with effort as though she were holding it there because she knew everyone expected her to.

She listened as Magnus spoke, her expression softening with admiration. Many people in, especially in this room were vain. Many people in this room wanted beauty, influence, advantage, or some glittering prize they could parade before the court. Magnus, however, spoke as though he only wanted someone kind. Someone thoughtful. Someone who saw him as more than what he could offer.

Anastasia decided then that Magnus was a good person.

"I lucked out with this pretty face." Her tone turned playfully smug, and with that, she reached over to gently clamp Farim’s face in one hand, squeezing his cheek with a brief and light giggle.

She withdrew her hand and looked back to Magnus. "I've definitely spoken with them all before, just not for long. Marina and I used to play with dolls at parties when we were younger. She's a funny one."

"I once had my own lofty expectations of romance. I was young, and found myself chasing any pleasure I could. But these types of chases do not soothe the soul, nor fill the heart. This took me a long time to learn. It took me longer still to even find someone who matched me in all the right ways. To see me for me, and not just the assets that I provide. A joyful beacon of light that shines through even the murkiest of waters. I realize I am putting her on a pedestal right now but frankly, she deserves it.”

The corners of Anastasia’s eyes shone.

For a moment, she could not quite trust herself to speak. She only looked at Farim, holding his gaze. She had lost so much in one morning that the ground still seemed unsteady beneath her feet, like it could open up and swallow them all at any moment. It was truly as if everything near and dear could be taken without warning. Yet there he was, speaking of her so wonderfully... As though she were something worth holding onto.

She did not think she could bear to ever lose him.

It was shortly after this that the loud performance began.

"This is certainly an interesting turn of events.” came Farim's whisper in her ear.

Anastasia’s gaze moved toward Kazumin, and despite herself, she clasped her hands together. Seeing him dance so freely, so wonderfully, brought a tender ache to her chest. He seemed to brighten the whole room with ease, making so many people smile, even her father, of all people, and that did not surprise her at all. She had known Kazumin was pure sunshine from the moment she met him.

At the last ball, perhaps she would have darted straight toward Kazumin and linked her arms with his, and joined the dance without a second thought. She could almost picture herself doing it, could almost hear her own laughter.

Tonight, though, she remained where she was.

There was something bittersweet about seeing Kazumin just being himself, about hearing her father erupt in joy as he had at the theater. Things were so different then. Events that were simply days ago felt as if they were really from a different lifetime.

“Good evening, my apologies if I’m interrupting.”

The princess turned and found yet another familiar face: Ariella Edwards.

“I wanted to stop by and say hello to Farim and Anastasia, though I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting the rest of you... My name is Ariella. I hope you lovely gentlemen won’t mind if I steal my dear friend Anastasia for a few moments.”

Anastasia’s expression warmed at once. The sight of Ariella tugged at a nostalgic feeling she desperately wanted to chase right now, even if it hurt. She reached for Ariella’s hand fondly.

“It’s been far too long since I’ve seen her, and I’d love the chance to catch up. If it's alright with her of course.”

Farim spoke up, and Anastasia looked between them, grateful for his presence and grateful, too, for the offered escape.

"There is nothing I want more right now than to talk to my dear friend." she told Ariella.

Then she joined her, allowing her old friend to lead the way.

[CitrusArms]

Knight Devout
Captain Stratya Durmand

Time: 10th Ignis, Evening
Location: Castle Ballroom - Starry Night Ball
Attire: Military Dress
Accent: Thick Scottish
Interactions: @Redking0380 Fareed, @HylianRose Nikolai, @princess Misogynist Holy Man, @Oso Ambrose
Mentions: Varian gaggle, Nolan @Remram, Drake @Lava Alckon, Mina @Tae

The very tall fellow with the suave moustache paused, thinking a moment before deciding it wasn’t so bad. Stratya didn’t bother to study him. She listened with care, listening for the nuance to him - wondering if, perhaps, he had decided to spare her feelings.

She huffed softly, humored, as he finished his point, “you mean tae tell me I shouldnae carre.” That was probably best. Her head bobbed agreeably before her name drew her gaze over her shoulder, “oh? Aah, grree’in’s.” The Captain smiled with a warm chuckle. Fareed introduced himself, and Stratya spoke first in response, “this is Serr Nikolai, of Varrian. Ooh, Nik. We’ll ‘ave tae sparr sometime, I’d like tae see what ye’ve got.” There was a playful edge in her tone to match her grin when Charlotte Vikena’s name drew the captain’s attention away.

It was a name she’d been worried about; not just for the previous week, but because of what she’d read in the paper. She didn’t believe it. She had seen a surprising resolve from her, but still, worry settled in her gut like a stone.

Whatever the case, the night’s change in Charlotte was completely unexpected. The grin slowly slid from Stratya’s lips, simply because she’d forgotten it was there, stunned twofold as she was. “Hoo, gods, noble drresses arre..” she took a swig of her mead instead of finishing her sentence.

Her thoughts flitted, a similarity to Callum irritating her worry. There wasn’t a familiar to be seen, however. Something else? Or perhaps the critter conceals itself somewhere in her.. noo, no way. There wasn’t any place in that dress to-

“I suppose yerr rreyt, Farreed. I’ve go’ morre imporran’ things tae worry abou’. Like, perr’aps, how did it get cut?” She looked back at herself, fingers of her free hand finding that slash that had somehow made itself part of the uniform, “I doan figh’ in this, how.. ooooh..” her memory clicked, “tha’s rreyt, it was after I rrescued that poorr pup frrom t’ Grran’ Vizirr. Foul man, bein’ sae rrough with such a sweet thing. The owner misunderstood and attacked me. Were they misinformed, perr’aps..”

Captain Durmand shook her head free of the consideration, “aah, poin’ is. They attacked me with a peculiarr currved dagger. I’d ne’er fough’ a knife like tha’, so I guess it got thrrough my defense, a bit. Got me on t’ cheek, too, a bit. Is tha’ marrk still there?” she touched by her cheekbone where that curved dagger had nicked her, where the thin scar might yet be.

Idly, she scanned the ballroom, ears still attentive to conversation. Charlotte had gone right up to Cassius. Lucky guy, him. Her eyes next came to the Varian gaggle; Ambrose looked tense, more than duty or guard. Uneasy.

Their eyes met, but only briefly, before his attention was taken by a colliding body. It was Mina, the beautiful woman who had been working the charity auction. For her beauty, she only seemed to sour Ambrose’s disposition even further.

That whole group seemed sad. Well, that’s what court fools are for, right? What timing, Mr. Kazoo the Skip Meister.

She’d turned, ready to joke, and froze when she saw him: the man in black, eyes dangerously on her, smile slow and pleased. As he went on, Stratya’s leather glove creaked under the grip on her stein. Familiar, hot anger rose under her breast, like a blade begging to be freed. The cleric’s sharp words were a knife in the heart of a night that had finally started to mend.

She didn’t flinch. “Men like you belong out o’ my sight.” He spoke of order and places; she’d been in many places men preferred to be themselves. That must be the rebellion he referred to.

Despicable and disgusting as he was, there was a truth. Her Queen was gone. Who would stand for her now? Could she bring herself to seek Wulfric? Could he shield her, from tradition and from Edin?

The helplessness sat strangely in her bones.

“Perr’aps I shall dance, however,” she stepped forward and reached. Her hand slipped deliberately past his and she moved him out of her way with the back of her arm to advance beyond, “jus’ nae with you.”

She moved purposefully, eager to leave the priest and whatever ideas he had in his head far behind her. As she approached the Varian clique, her pace slowed and her stride became more gentle, her eyes greeting whoever looked her way warmly - she would offer Marina a wink - before her attention settled on Ambrose as she stood at a cozy distance. “Ambrrose,” a gentle, coaxing call for his attention, though she was certain he’d have noticed her already, vigilant as he was. “Would you dance with me?”

[HylianRose]

ʟ ᴜ ᴄ ɪ ᴀ ɴ ᴄ ᴀ ᴍ ɪ ʟ ɪ ᴀ
ʟ ᴜ ᴄ ɪ ᴀ ɴ ᴄ ᴀ ᴍ ɪ ʟ ɪ ᴀ

Time: Evening
Location: Grand Ballroom
Attire: Lucian's Outfit
Interactions: @princess Marina, @remram Nolan
Mentions: @princess Charlotte, @tae Mina, @Oso Ambrose, @Lava Alckon Drake, @samreaper Kazumin, @CitrusArms Stratya

^{_{___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}}

“Of course, my Prince.” Ambrose replied with a similar tone.

Lucian nodded solemnly as Ambrose replied to him. He couldn't imagine Ambrose's position, serving the very man responsible for his sister's death. Keeping him and his siblings safe from danger when Lucian himself hadn't been able to save Ambrose's sister. He could understand his hatred, empathize with it in some way.

"The question-pelting addiction is a work in process." Marina had informed him promptly, her expression smug.

Lucian rolled his eyes at her reply, knowing full well she wasn't really working on it at all. More often than not, she would speak whatever thought first crossed her mind. It was something he found both refreshing and concerning. One could see why he might worry about her.

“I’ll just love you double then,” she whispered, her voice low enough for him alone, “to make up for Ambrose.”

Lucian said nothing at this. He didn't think Marina would take his actual thoughts very well. As much as her love was appreciated, he wasn't sure it would be enough to make up for his own self-loathing. How could he accept her love for him when he didn't really even know how to forgive and love himself? How could he do that when there was a part of him that didn't want Ambrose to forgive, that didn't want to let that wound heal, to forget her? He didn't see how it could help but he didn't want to let her know that.

He squeezed his sister back in return, holding onto her.

“But under all that pain…” she added more quietly, “you know he still loves you, don’t you?”

He had meant to hold onto her longer, to keep her from seeing his expression but she had pulled away sooner than he'd had time to react. He wasn't sure he wanted Ambrose love him, he wasn't sure he deserved to be loved by that man. The realization of that hit Lucian like a sack of bricks and his expression soured like month old fruits.

“...You talk to anyone of interest yet, Lucian?”

Lucian didn't speak for a moment, his eyes practically glazing over the sea of people. He watched with disinterest as a blonde man entered and began to perform. If he weren't so upset right now, he might have truly enjoyed it. It was refreshing and heartwarming in a strange way. Reminded him of simpler times.

He turned back as the performance ended and caught a glance of Mina as she bumped into Ambrose. His expression immediately shifted. First relief, the sight of her alone bringing him comfort. He first noticed how striking she looked in that dress and had half a mind to offer her a cover for it, but he knew better. Then, his gaze settled on the golden embroidery along the edge of the body of the dress. The roses that settled there like they were always meant to be there. A smile grew on his lips at the thought. The Rose of Varian. Exactly as she was meant to be.

"Ambrose," she breathed."I... I apologize," she said, "I wasn't looking where I was going. This crowd is... overwhelming."

He didn't think too much of her words, other than the expression that seemed to follow. She took a step back, his expression shifting to one he had come to know as a mask, one he'd slipped on all too often. But he couldn't fathom why she'd have that reaction to Ambrose. Yes, he was a wall of a man and as stiff as one too, but he didn't warrant that kind of reaction, right?

“Lady Blackwood…” He muttered, voice losing the knightly confidence that was usually on display. “I…” Ambrose began but stopped.

Lucian's expression turned to one of confusion. He never saw Ambrose falter like that. Well, maybe once or twice when they were younger and Ambrose was talking to one of the girls he liked-

Lucian froze, watching the two of them now. His gaze shifted from Mina to Ambrose and then back again and he wasn't sure he could put words to how he felt.

His gaze strayed as he tried to be literally anywhere else right now, Marina's question completely forgotten, as Charlotte entered and she was not at all how he remembered. His eyes went wide for a fraction of a second as he tried to collect himself. It was like seeing Sophia's face on someone else's body. Maybe if Sophia had been more like that... No... That wouldn't have done anything...

Lucian shook his head slightly and shifted his gaze back towards his sister, anywhere other than other pair near him, just in time to see another pair emerge beside her. This was becoming far too many people surrounding him...

He watched with mild interest as the younger boy introduced himself as Nolan Edwards. Ahhh, yes. He'd heard rumors. His gaze shifted for a moment back to Lady Charlotte, watching her walk up to another man and touch his chin. He turned back quickly, his eyes wide.

Why did that make him jealous? What the fuck were his feelings at all? Here he was both heartbroken over Mina and wanting Ambrose to finally have something good and then feeling heartbroken all over again to feeling jealousy towards a woman who was not his merely because she looked like his dead wife. He needed a drink. A strong one.

"It's great to see you again, Princess Camilla. You look..." He trailed off.

Lucian's gaze pivoted to the Edwards' boy, a sudden keen interest in him. This... This could prove to be a good distraction.

"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."

His eyes narrowed for a moment, as Nolan continued.

"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.

"No, but I think I know someone else who has." He leaned over to whisper to his sister quickly.

"It's been excellent so far, Lord... Nolan, was it?" Lucian replied, an amused smirk on his face despite himself. At least, in this, he could forget his own messy feelings for a moment.

He turned as he waited for Nolan to reply, watching as a woman walked over to Ambrose and Mina.

“Ambrrose,” a gentle, coaxing call for his attention. “Would you dance with me?”

His eyes narrowed again for a moment, suddenly much more interested in Ambrose's reply than Nolan's.

[Remram]

Askel Camila

Location: Grand Ballroom
Attire: Starry Night Attire
Interactions @Potter Kira @AuthenticTomb Aslam @princess Hafiz
Mentions:@samreaper Kazu @Potter Olivia @Tae Ranya

---

Did she just pet him? She just petted him like he was some overly concerned child worrying about something nonsensical. It had caught him completely off guard and was frankly not sure how to react. Judging by the grin on her face it was most definitely not out of some lack of social awareness, it was very much targeted for she had not patted Aslam's head when expressed the same concern for her well-being. She then disappeared into the crowd once she had her fill of them before he could even make a remark.

He was most definitely going to ruffle that fluffy head of hers if he ever saw her again. There would be retribution!

That would have to come later though. Instead, he chose to focus on Aslam.

A part of him was relieved that there was an understanding between them that could remain unspoken. Askel liked to believe that perhaps the Shehzade knew, but out of a respect for his and Ranya's privacy and maybe even because he approved of the prince, he would never ask to confirm his suspicions, for now at least. One day, Askel would tell him plain honesty along with Munir and the other brother he had yet to meet. After all, they would be his brothers one day too so seeing his future brother steep in bitterness.

Askel laid a gloved hand on the Shehzade's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "If there's something weighing on your mind just know my door and a bottle of Varian spirits is always open for you." He flashed a smile and removed his hand. Before Aslam could even respond a loud performance began.

A lively dance from a smiling man with sunflowers in his ornate top hat that thawed through the grief of this morning. For once, Askel could agree with King Edin on that front. The man did what all the luxuries in this room could not; he brought joy. Askel had silently bobbed his head along to the rhythm of Mr. Kazoo's steps with a slight smile.

However, there was something that bothered the prince. The name, Mr. Kazoo, sounded so familiar and it was very recent in his memory.

Kazoo... Kazoo... Kazumin?

Olivia had mentioned a companion by that name during one of their training sessions. So this was the man. There was a spark of intrigue when observing him; so many nobles would strive to have a tenth of the charisma and likability that Mr. Kazoo had and he made it so effortless. Very few would be secure enough in themselves to do what Kazumin just did, a different kind of bravery that was needed in the world of nobles.

Askel said with an amused chuckle, "Now there is a man that would be worth knowing. Say, why don't we... go over... and..." The playful grin of the knight-prince curved downwards into a neutral expression as he watched a figure draped in blue and gold approached them, the same man that entered beside Ranya, the Grand Vizier with a smile most pleasant and a bow that feigned respect. Askel knew better though than to trust it.

With a charming tone and sociable cadence, there was that not so thinly probing or more likely a threat. Of course, the Grand Vizier was going to suspect Ranya and him one way or the other tonight. It was inevitable; the man had locked her away in her gilded cage and guarded her like she was a sacred treasure, and then there was Askel eyeing his treasure with such yearning and received it back in full. It must've infuriated him so, to see her break character, to see her want something beyond what he would allow, and the fear that must have felt to see it possibly taken away from her.

Askel knew that she must have been watching this across the room anxiously to see what he would do, to see if he would keep his vow to her. A smile returned to his face as he faced his adversary.

"I've been told that I tend to have that effect on people, Grand Vizier. Even on you it seems since you are standing before me," joked Askel with a polite, unbothered smile. He stood with the trained discipline and confidence of a soldier, not that of a sheltered prince. There was a certain quality of strength about him, an even keel temperament of someone who had faced countless trials and tribulations and not just survived, but thrived.

He stepped forward towards Hafiz within the boundaries to still be considered polite, but enough that it could be read as a challenge as he approached the Grand Vizier's boundary.

"If it is a conversation that you desire then I am more than happy to oblige. I am sure that conversing with you will be an enlightening experience. One does not so often have the undivided attention of the Grand Vizier, the most powerful man in Alidasht second to the Sultan himself." It was said so innocently and it was factually correct, Hafiz was the second most powerful man in all of Alidasht, but Askel knew that it was a fact that must've eaten the man alive.

This was a man that sought power hungrily and selfishly, that much was certain if his own niece was afraid of him. Men like Hafiz were never satisfied mainly due to their fragile egos that propelled them forward no matter the cost, so Askel could not help, but to gently remind him where he stood: next to the throne, but never on it.

[Remram]

Magnus Pawonska

Location: Grand Ballroom
Attire: Attire: Starry Night Attire
Interactions: @princess Anastasia and Count Emil Schmidt, @Lava Alckon Farim @SilverSpring Ariella @Chrys Amira @HylianRose Nora @Potter Elena
Mentions: @samreaper Kazumin

---

They were a wonderful couple. He had doubted that there could have been any real affection to be found in the context of diplomacy and influence though seeing Farim and Anastasia gave him more hope that perhaps there was more to be found. Before Magnus could open his mouth to share his thoughts, a boisterous performance took place.

Mr. Kazoo the Skip Meister gave a rather spirited performance, one that could lighten the hearts of anyone with any ounce of joy within their soul. Even he found himself smiling and bobbing his head along with the rhythm, humming a rather jaunty tune. He was a much braver man than him; he could only imagine the look of horror that his father would have had if he were to be as bold as the Skip Meister though he could imagine that Nora, Elena, and even their mother would have gotten quite the kick out of it.

His attention though he was pulled away from the spectacle when he watched a woman with vibrant strawberry blonde hair approach them and introduced herself as Ariella Edwards. Edwards, if he was remembering correctly then she was the Duke of Soralia's daughter. Magnus flashed a polite smile upon her request. "Not at all. Please, enjoy yourselves."

He watched as the two women departed into the crowd before he tilted his head back to look at his conversational companion. "I am glad that I have made your acquaintance, Shehzade Farim, along with Princess Anastasia's. If the chance were to reveal itself, I would look forward to meeting you both again. However..." His gaze drifted over to his sisters and to the poor girl who was being harassed by the Count. His jaw clenched as a sternness took over his face. "It appears that I am needed."

With slow and measured steps, Magnus made his way across the ballroom until his shadow literally loomed over Count Schmidt like the obelisk of flesh that he was. He laid his hand on the count's shoulder and grabbed it tightly like a vice. If Schmidt tried to shake his hand off, he would find that he would not even be able to budge from where he was standing just from the casual strength of Magnus. If he had wanted to, he could have applied more pressure to the count's shoulder and break his collar bone, rip it out of its socket, or maybe just tear flesh and skin right off like tearing pages of a book from its spine.

That was the promise of violence in those icy blue eyes, looking down at him the same way one would look down at a leech.

"Do we have a problem?" Asked he, his voice rumbling like landslides in a valley.

[princess]

Interaction: @Remram Magnus @Chrys Amira
Witnesses: @Potter Elena @HylianRose Nora

---

A servant approached before anyone could properly acknowledge Magnus, or before Emil could answer the question left hanging between them. He was dressed neatly in palace servant’s attire, his posture stiff . In his gloved hands was a dramatic bouquet of roses, the blooms arranged in a dark, elegant spray of midnight blue and black, softened by pretty white filler flowers and tied with a deep blue ribbon.

He stopped before Amira and extended the bouquet with a respectful bow. “For you, madam. Magnus sends his regards.” The words were delivered plainly, almost too quickly, and once the flowers had passed into her hands, the servant dipped his head again and slipped away through the crowd with haste, moving much too quickly to answer any questions about who had sent him or why.

Little did Amira and Magnus know, there had indeed been flowers from a Mr. Magnus Brooks expected that evening — only those flowers had been meant to reach his wife, Henrietta.

[Oso]

Location: Grand Ballroom
Time: Evening
Interactions: Olivia @potter, Charlotte @princess
Mentions: Kazumin @samreaper, Alexander Deacon @FunnyGuy
Outfit: Bro Be Looking SO DAMN GOOD oh maw gawd

---

”Just call me Liv, I don’t give a shit what title you give me.”

Cassius’s mouth quirked with appreciation for her bluntness.

“Liv it is then.” he replied, voice low with amusement. “And feel free to simply call me Cas. No lord, no Damien… Just Cas.”

Then she started eating, like really eating. Not the delicate little pecking that noblewomen did at events like this because they were scared to mess up their ridiculously over-caked makeup or get a little on their gowns. No, she was doing it right. Liv ate like a person who unfortunately knew what it was like to go without food at all, let alone the fancy little delicacies these peacocks left half-eaten on gilded plates. She appreciated every taste, every bite. That much was clear. And as a spectator, Cas fucking loved it too.

A laugh slipped out of him. Quiet at first, then warmer when she turned away with her cheeks full like a chipmunk. It was amazing.

”I'm sorry.. This food is really fucking good.”

“Do not apologize.” Cassius said casually with the faintest glimmer of genuine ease. “That may be the most honest thing that gets said in this entire ballroom tonight. Besides…” His eyes flicked briefly to the flock of nearby nobles pretending not to stare. “If anyone here judges you for enjoying food, I’ll take their plate as punishment and give it to you instead.” He offered a friendly wink to accompany his words.

Cas appreciated Liv’s presence. Especially there in that moment where her candor, and her lack of giving a fuck genuinely helped him feel more at ease. She had not come to him with a polished smile or some trite compliment or bullshit manipulative tactic like half of the people in the room would have. Instead, she simply came up, cursed, stuffed her face, and asked him how he was doing like she actually gave a damn about the answer.

”What about you - how are you? This is a lot for you isn't it?”

Cassius looked down at the glass in his hand. For a moment, he considered lying, but before he could even answer, the herald’s voice cut across the ballroom.

Lady Charlotte Vikena.

_{And as his eyes found her… the world changed forever.}

Cassius had always believed that romance novels existed as fairytales to push the naïve notion that love existed in some perfect way that could sweep someone off their feet and fix every single thing about the lives of the protagonists in the stories. It was escapism and that was all. Not unlike the ways he had always escaped from the world with the booze, the women, the men… and every other bit of beauty and pleasure he could find along the way. He knew escapism well, but his way had always been real whereas the books and stories that pushed such silly notions such as true love’s kiss had always been nothing more than fantasy for the innocent and the lonely. It was not real life, well… not until the moment she walked into the room.

The gold of the ballroom dulled, the painted stars on the ceiling above blurred, and the bodies between them, the gossip, the perfume, the bullshit beneath all that finery. It all fell away until there was only the woman stepping through the doors.

Charlotte.

Gods…Charlotte.

For one foolish second, Cassius forgot how to breathe.

He had seen her beautiful before, every single time his eyes had met her form she had been stunning. He had thought her beautiful in ribbons and plainer dresses, beautiful with grass beneath her and sunlight in her hair, beautiful soaked through and shaking by firelight, beautiful even when frightened, angry, exhausted, or trying desperately to hold herself together when everything around her seemed as though it were breaking piece by piece.

Her beauty had never needed adornment. It had lived in the melancholy of her eyes, in the careful way she held herself, in her kindness, the intelligence behind every witty little comment, and in the strange, lonely gravity that seemed to draw him to her no matter how many times he tried to step away.

But this was different.

Tonight, Charlotte Vikena did not enter like a girl hoping not to be noticed. She entered like the greatest secret the world had ever tried to keep. Cassius had seen the fire in her that very first night they met, but she might as well have been ablaze there at the front of the ballroom stealing the breaths and attention of all in attendance that evening. The mild mannered, sweet girl that deserved better than everyone in that room was there, center focus, and for a moment she owned them all.

Dark blue shimmered over her like midnight given shape, the gown catching the light in tiny flashes that made her seem less dressed in stars than made from them. Her hair fell in loose black waves down her back, elegant and deliberate, no ribbon binding her into softness. The deep wine of her lips made her face look sharper, more mature, almost…dangerous. The slit of her gown revealed the movement of her leg with each step, and Cassius hated every man in the room who noticed while knowing he was one of them.

But no… He was not like them. He was something else entirely.

They looked because they saw beauty and wanted a taste of it. They stared because they were shocked to see THIS Charlotte Vikena in front of them when they were used to another version of her.

Cassius looked like a man who had no other choice. He stared as though the goddess of his very salvation had just walked into the room…or perhaps the one who brought with her his doom.

Because there she was, in all of her fire and glory. Something in her had awakened, and it was magnificent.

But he also knew it was wrong. Something was wrong, and that was the part that tightened around his ribs.

There was power in the way she moved, yes. A devastating sort of power. Enough to make the air shift around her. Enough to make people turn with parted lips and startled eyes. Enough to make even his father look shocked across the room.

Cassius saw that.

He saw all the beauty at her disposal, the command she possessed in this moment. But he also saw the dark, glittering certainty of every step and the shadow beneath it all. He saw the girl from the lake clutching a wrapped book that she had been willing to die for. He heard her voice again, soft and dreadful by the fire.

I presume I’m on borrowed time anyway.

He saw the way she had leaned into his hand with tears threatening to break her apart. The way she had confessed to feeling helpless since seeing her mother’s body on the grass. The way she had spoken of witch hunters, the Black Rose, Alexander Deacon, and the terrible arithmetic of a girl who had somehow decided her life was the cheapest thing she could spend.

And now she walked through the ballroom like a woman who had made peace with becoming important…

The sight should have thrilled him.

And it did… Gods help him, it did.

It thrilled him so deeply that his chest ached with it. Pride sparked through him, bright and fierce, because some part of him wanted every person in that room to see what he saw. To see that Charlotte Vikena was not some poor, fragile thing to be pitied or judged in print and whispered over in corners. She was not a rumor, nor a scandal. She was not some tragic little line in a gossip sheet passed between the cruel hands of narcissists.

She was brilliant, and formidable, and she was so beautiful it hurt to look at her. And yet the hurt remained as he refused to look anywhere else. Not just because of how he felt about about this woman, but because Cassius could not tell whether he was watching Charlotte bloom or burn.

His fingers tightened around his glass.

“Oh fuck…” he breathed under his breath, too quietly for anyone but perhaps Liv to hear.

The words weren’t even meant to be spoken out loud, but he was a man ruined by what he saw. He was a man that, little did he know, would never live for himself again a day in his life.

Then Charlotte looked at him, and whatever remained of his composure abandoned him completely.

He knew that look. Or rather, he knew pieces of it. He knew the softness she tried to hide when they were alone. He knew the spark of amusement when she thought she had won some small witty battle of banter between them. He knew the guarded tenderness that frightened them both. But this was all of it made public, aimed at him without shame, without hesitation, without the careful little walls she so often placed between herself and the world.

She started toward him and Cassius straightened without meaning to. A man who had faced assassins, monsters, mercenaries, and the worst moral destruction of his own life suddenly had no idea what to do with his hands. He set his glass down so that he wouldn’t drop it. Then, he picked it back up because he was afraid he might need it.

“Gods.” he muttered, and for once there was no charm in it. No performance. Just a man quietly losing a battle he had not truly known he was fighting.

She closed the space like it belonged to her, and honestly…perhaps it did. Perhaps he did too.

“Hi, Cassius.”

There were a thousand things he could have said. Something clever, witty, flirtatious enough to make her blush. That was what he did, wasn’t it? Cassius Vael, Cassius Damien, whatever name the room wished to give him. He always had something to say. Always in control. Always on top or at least pretending to be. But around her, even in that first moment of their meeting, that all began to crumble. Tonight, it was the foundation of it all that gave way.

His mouth parted slightly, but whatever words had meant to form there seemed to die in quiet astonishment. She was close enough that he could see the details of her makeup, the dark blue of her eyes, the faint movement of her breath. Close enough that he could remember the taste of her mouth with cruel clarity. Close enough that every sensible thought in him scattered.

And then she reached up and her fingers brushed the corner of his lips.

Cassius went still. Utterly, painfully, absolutely still.

Because naturally, the woman who had just entered the ballroom looking like a moonlit omen had crossed the room to wipe a crumb from his mouth as if she had every right to touch him in front of gods, nobles, fathers, enemies, and anyone else who cared to witness his ruin.

His face warmed…and his cheeks turned red like some green boy receiving his first smile from a pretty girl at market. The horror of that realization almost saved him. Almost, but not quite, as he was barely human in that moment but at the same time more alive than he had ever been.

“Hi.” he finally managed.

One…Pathetic…Word.

He heard himself say it and immediately wanted to drown himself in the punch bowl. Cassius cleared his throat, the tips of his ears faintly red despite every effort of his body to pretend otherwise. His gaze flicked down to her hand, then back to her face, and the smile that formed on his mouth was helpless in a way he could not quite disguise.

“You…”

He stopped. His eyes moved over her again, not with the earlier hunger of a man who had forgotten his manners, but with reverence. With worry, and something tender enough to frighten him.

“You look…”

Beautiful was too small. It was not good enough. Ethereal sounded like something some perfumed poet would say, but even that word wasn’t worthy of her.

Cassius swallowed.

“You look…Perfect, Lottie." he said at last, voice quieter than usual, rougher too.

Then Charlotte turned to Liv, touching her cheek with such easy tenderness that Cassius’s chest gave another uncomfortable pull. The affection between them was gentle, but there was something about Charlotte’s openness that made him wary.

Not because he disliked it, but because he liked it too damn much.

He wanted her to feel powerful, wanted her to feel adored, to feel like the world could stare and she did not have to shrink like he had seen her do before. But he knew what had been happening beneath the surface.

He knew the book existed.

He knew some voice had called to her across the lake, and there was something in the way she stood tonight, something bright and dark and intoxicating, that made the memory of her shivering by the fire feel less like a past danger and more like a warning.

He wondered if Liv saw it too.

“You look so beautiful, Liv.” Charlotte complimented her friend.

”Oh! Um, me? Wow. Thank you.” The girl responded, almost as caught off guard as Cassius himself.

Cassius’s gaze flicked toward Liv, and despite everything, a softness touched his mouth. There was a sweetness in the way she stumbled over the compliment, a vulnerability he doubted she meant to reveal.

”You look beautiful too.” She responded. Soon though, Olivia spoke up with a question. ”Are you okay?”

There it was…The question Cassius had been too spellstruck to properly ask.

The question that had been pulsing beneath his ribs since the moment Charlotte entered. Liv glanced toward him, searching for an answer and Cassius did not have one. So, Cassius looked back at Charlotte instead. The softness in his expression lingered, but beneath it was the concern he could not fully hide. His voice, when he spoke, was low enough for only the three of them.

“Really, Lottie…Are you alr...”

And then, another loud introduction stopped his words in their tracks.

Mr Kazoo…the Skip Meister!

Cassius blinked as his gaze slowly shifted back towards the front of the room just in time to see Kazumin Nagasa descend into the ballroom with sunflowers in his hat and absolutely no concern for dignity, nobility, reputation, or any other bullshit most in this room coveted above all else. For a heartbeat, Cassius simply stared.

It was…a lot… especially moments after Charlotte had just changed his life forever in a way that he still hadn’t been able to process. But EVERYTHING about what Kazumin was doing was, in its own way, fucking perfect. Hilariously, ridiculously, wholesomely perfect. The whole display was a fever dream, one which Cassius could not help but enjoy. He smiled, genuinely smiled, as he watched the man dance, rejoice, and make a mockery of the formality of the entire evening in a way that he could not help but respect. There would come a time when Cassius would get the chance to talk to Kazu about all of it, but for the moment, his attention could only be won by the girl next to him. His eyes returned to Charlotte, and the humor softened back into the same concern he had before. Because not even Kazumin Nagasa, in all his bizarre and perfect glory, could hold Cassius’s gaze for long. Not tonight. Not when Charlotte was right there.

The room had many stars.

And Cassius had found his.

“Is everything alright, love?” He asked as his eyes studied hers for the same answers that Olivia had been searching for.

[AuthenticTomb]

Time: Evening
Location: Grand Ballroom
Attire: Aslam's Outfit
Interactions: Hafiz - @princess, Askel - @Remram
Mentions:
Color Code: #FEF698

---

Aslam's heart was much like the vast desert of his homeland. It burned fiercely at times only to be later frozen in ice with one constant. It was left barren no matter the temperature save for the few oasis that kept life feasible. He could have chosen to dwell in those places of respite, clinging to what he could make of them. Instead, he has chosen to leave on a risky journey across the vast desert of his heart to find paradise. His hands had already destroyed one such place in his hubris and he would not make the same mistakes. Aslam's eyes had been opened to the threats that lurk beneath the sand and the false promise of mirages. His journey would only end when he found his promised land once again with certainty.

The Shehzade had begun to delve into such thought when Askel's hand pulled him out before he could sink further into the quicksand of such thinking. The gesture was familiar enough that he dared hoped the Varian Prince had caught his insinuation, but more than that he could sense the sincerity of his offer. He considered his siblings precious, but there was always the pressure from their father to push to the top...above the others. That was why the gesture and honest offer had left him briefly at a loss for words. Aslam's mouth had just opened to respond when something caught the prince's eyes that cause him to turn to see for himself.

A half-grin replaced the serious look on his face at the strange man's performance, unfamiliar with their identity. His finger tapped against the side of his chalice as he considered quickly how he might bring the man into his sphere of influence. Aslam had not reacted upon seeing Hafiz stride his way over to them though he did correct the faint lapses in his poise. There was no mistake in his mind. He was not the target of his uncle's attention, at least not primarily. "Grand Vizier Hafiz." Aslam replied with the same curt acknowledgement and his own faint smile.

Aslam took the opportunity of Askel and Hafiz taking the first round of the conversation to step beside the Varian Prince facing his uncle. It was hard not to smirk at Askel's reply. "Your eyes and ears are as sharp as ever, Uncle. We just so happened to stumble into each other." He let a small amount of levity into his voice. Whenever he interacted with Hafiz, it was like staring into a dark reflection of himself. What he could have become had the sun forever set within his soul. They both would stop at nothing to get what they wanted. Hafiz wanted power and a status above all others. Aslam wanted to protect what was most precious to him. His reasons might be different, but he was not against using the same means.

He did not join Askel when the prince stepped forward. There was nothing for him to gain by intervening in his moment. Now Aslam would see if the man who set his eyes on Ranya had the spine and wit to stand against the greatest barrier to their happily ever after. He desperately wanted this to be her very own fairy-tale. A valiant knight to slay the wicked serpent to rescue to the princess. Hafiz did not deserve the honor of being a dragon even if metaphorical and he hesitated to ascribe the word damsel to Ranya.

"Very true! I am grateful you would make a point in coming to speak with us. Your time during a ball like this is surely invaluable." He spoke amicably wishing he had taken the chance to refill his cup. His throat was already getting dry in anticipation of the coming back and forth. Even so, little would be able to pull him away from Askel's side now. Hafiz had given him the opportunity to show his support for their relationship and judge whether the prince truly had the principles to follow through.

[Tae]

Shehzadi Ranya al-Kadir

Time: 6PM
Location: Grand Ballroom
Outfit: Ranya’s Outfit
Interactions: @Infinite Cosmos Munir
Mentions: @Remram Askel @AuthenticTomb Aslam @princess Hafiz

---

The velvet curtain felt like a heavy, airless weight as Ranya stood with Munir away from the excitement. For a moment, the sheer absurdity of his interrogation gave her back her teeth. It was easier to be sharp than to be terrified, and Munir was practically vibrating with a frantic energy that begged to be punctured.

“Stop. Just stop,” Ranya snapped, her voice low but vibrating with a sudden, dry heat. “You want to know who I’ve met? I’ve met someone who looks at me and doesn't see a monument or a ghost, but sees Ranya. I am not a bird you can whistle back to a perch. I have done nothing but claim a single sliver of the world for myself, which is something I thought you, of all people, would understand.”

She yanked her wrist from his grip as soon as it loosened, her eyes flashing with a defiant, sassy heat. “Honestly, Munir, you’re acting as if I’ve eloped with a pirate instead of simply enjoying the novel sensation of a conversation that doesn't start with a prayer and end with a reminder of our dead mother’s chin.”

She gave his arm a little shake, her bangles chiming a sharp, mocking tune. “If that bothers you, then perhaps you should look at your own glass before you start throwing stones at—”

Her words died in her throat. Her breath hitched, catching with a sound like tearing silk.

Across the expanse of the ballroom, through the gaps in the swirling dancers, she saw the flash of deep blue robes—the predatory, smooth movement of a man who didn't walk so much as he glided. Hafiz.

He was standing before Askel and Aslam. He was smiling. Ranya’s vision tunneled. The music, the laughter, the clinking of glasses—it all faded into a dull, underwater roar. The temperature in the small, curtained alcove began to skyrocket. A dry, searing heat radiated from her skin, and a faint wisp of grey smoke began to curl from the edge of the velvet curtain where her shoulder pressed against it. If she didn't find her center, the fabric would ignite within moments.

Icy panic slammed into her gut, a punch that stole her air. Without thinking, her hand flew to her shoulder, her fingers clutching the sea-foam silk exactly where Hafiz’s grip had been. She winced, her fingers digging into the fabric, and in her distress, the silk shifted. The draped edge of her sari slid an inch lower, revealing the stark, ugly truth: four dark, blossoming bruises shaped like the tips of a man's fingers, and a purpling smear where a palm had ground into her collarbone. If Munir were paying attention, he would surely see it.

“He’s there,” she whispered, her voice breaking, the sassy mask finally shattering into a thousand jagged pieces. She looked at Munir, her green eyes wide and shimmering with a sudden, glassy film of tears. “Munir, he’s talking to him. He’s going to… Please, you have to… If he knows, he’ll kill that light. He’ll kill it just to watch me go dark.”

She seized Munir’s coat, her knuckles white. But then, as she watched the standoff across the room, a sudden, chilling clarity hit her. If they ran over there now—if she arrived with tears in her eyes and Munir arrived looking like a frantic animal—they would be handing Hafiz exactly what he wanted. They would be confirming that the Prince of Varian was a weakness to be exploited.

She forced a breath into her lungs. It felt like inhaling glass, but it worked. She straightened once more and stepped away from the curtain just as the smoke began to thicken. The heat receded, the air cooling just enough to keep the velvet from bursting into flames.

Ranya smoothed her sari with trembling hands. She blinked back the tears, her face resetting into a mask that was far too pale, but steady nonetheless.

“I... I apologize, Munir,” she said, her voice a ghostly, hollow chime of its former self. She didn't look at him, her gaze fixed on a point somewhere over his shoulder. “I lost my footing for a moment. The heat of the ballroom, I suppose. I am perfectly fine.” It was a lie so transparent it was painful, but she stood tall, adjusting her veil with hands that wouldn't stop shaking. “We cannot go over there. Not like this. We will stay here, we will breathe, and we will wait. I am the Chosen, and I will not be the reason his world burns.”

[HylianRose]

Sir Nikolai Dragos Berova
Sir Nikolai Dragos Berova

Time:Evening
Location: Ballroom
Attire: All black with mute gold/grey embellishments.
Interactions: @CitrusArms Stratya, @Redking0380 Fareed, & @princess ?????
Mentions: @samreaper Kazumin & @Potter Elena

^{_{___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}}

Nik turned from Stratya and Fareed for a moment when he heard the music change and noticed the crowd turning to look just in time to notice a blonde fool as he pranced, hopped, and skipped to the beat of his own song. Even Nik had to admit that it was hard not to be entertained by him. There was an air about him that Nik liked too, reminding him of some of his old buddies.

He made a mental note to find that blonde fellow later and get to know him. Men that made spectacles of themselves were either idiots… or useful.

As he moved his attention back to the group he’d been entertaining, he then noticed a striking young woman enter who looked, at least in dress, like a gender bent version of himself. Elena Pawonska.... Oh! That family… Well, that might be interesting… He thought to himself, a smirk growing on his lips. A second later, he was pulled back by the very tall man speaking to him again. Right.

”I am known as Fareed, of Alidash. Might I know who speaks to me?”

Nik let a slow smile creep onto his face. He had no idea who this man was but if he was from Alidash, he carried weight. And weight like that was always worth something. However, before he could respond, Stratya was introducing him.

“this is Serr Nikolai, of Varrian. Ooh, Nik. We’ll ‘ave tae sparr sometime, I’d like tae see what ye’ve got.” There was a playful edge in Stratya’s tone to match her grin. Nik chuckled, nodding his head.

”That we must. I need to see if I have what it takes.” He replied with a light tone, though he knew enough from looking that Stratya was no push-over and Nik learned most of his skills from his less than reputable friends so his habits were often less than… honorable. She might have much to teach him yet. He watched as Stratya spoke to Fareed, listening as she spoke about the cuts on her and the dagger that had been used to do it. A curved dagger? Brilliant. That only narrowed it down to… half the world.

He was about to say something more to Stratya, ask her about the dagger, when another man appeared. This one wore black, severe and almost priestly, if Nik had to guess. He watched those green eyes stare right past him at Stratya. He blinked for a moment as he listened to him speak.

“Dance with me.” the man demanded. “...You will find, Captain, that when the world is finished applauding your little rebellion, there are still men willing to show you where a woman belongs.”

His smile returned. “And I am not a man who enjoys being refused.”

Did… did that normally work for him? Gods, Nik almost wanted to see the success rate. Almost.

Nik blinked once, slow and then dragged his tongue over his teeth to hide the laugh threatening to break through as Stratya replied, telling him exactly where she thought he belonged. Then, before he could say anything so much as protest, she was gone. Like a bat out of hell. He couldn’t blame her but…

Nik slowly looked from Fareed and then back to the priestly looking man.

”Bold strategy. How often does it fail this spectacularly?” Nik asked aloud, watching him.

[princess]

_{Interaction: @Remram Askel @AuthenticTomb Aslam
Mention:@Tae Ranya}

Hafiz’s smile did not falter.

If anything, it softened, as if Askel had said something charmingly predictable. The reminder of his rank amused him more than it wounded him. His brother's status as Sultan would expire sooner than they all thought anyway.

With a breathless chuckle, he replied, “How generous of you to remember my place, Prince Askel.” His tone was smooth, nearly warm. “Many men forget their own when they are eager to make an impression.”

His eyes moved over Askel, taking in the soldierly posture, the look in his eyes, the step forward that wanted to be a challenge... Hafiz was almost impressed. Almost.

“Though I must admit, I expected a Varian prince to be a touch less obvious.” His smile thinned. “You stand like a man trying to prove he does not fear me. That is rarely the same thing as not being afraid.”

Only then did he turn his gaze to Aslam.

The boy had placed himself beside the Varian prince.

Not behind him. Not away from him. Beside him.

It was a choice dressed up in friendliness, but Hafiz knew a declaration when he saw one. “Stumbled into each other,” Hafiz repeated mildly, tasting the phrase with mild amusement. “How innocent.”

His eyes lingered on Aslam, as if he could carve him up with his eyes alone.

“And how dutiful of you to keep our guest company. Your father would be pleased to see such hospitality.” A small pause followed.

Across the room, through the shifting bodies and sparkling motion of dancers, Hafiz caught sight of Ranya in the corner of his eye.

There she was.

He saw how she gripped Munir as if the floor had suddenly vanished beneath her. Poor thing. She was afraid for her new infatuation.

Hafiz did not turn his head.

He let her wonder whether he had seen.... He let her stand there pretending she had mastered herself.

The Grand Vizier lifted his goblet to his lips, hiding the small curl of satisfaction behind the rim.
Then his attention returned to Askel, pleasant as ever.

“Tell me, Prince Askel, what is it you make of Alidasht so far?” he asked. “Our customs. Our family. Our treasures.”

Hafiz's tone had been lazy, and most casual as he trailed his finger along the rim of the goblet.“Foreigners do have such romantic imaginations. They see a veil and think it hides sadness. They see restraint and call it a cage. They see something sacred looking back at them, and suddenly they decide the gods themselves must be asking them to interfere.”

His smile deepened, though his eyes stayed cold. “You strike me as that sort of man.” He took one step closer. “Honorable. Earnest. Brave enough to be inconvenient... The kind of man who mistakes wanting a woman for understanding her.”

A cruel amusement faintly touched his countenance. “So allow me to spare us both the theater. When she looks at you from across a room, what do you tell yourself?”

Hafiz tilted his head. “That you are her rescue? Her rebellion? Some warm little chapter in a story she was never foolish enough to write for herself?... Or do you understand, Prince Askel, that a lonely glance is not a promise, and a frightened girl is not yours simply because she bats her eyes in your direction?”

He held the prince’s gaze for a moment, then smiled.

“Men have died for touching less than what you seem so eager to reach for.”

[princess]

Time: Evening
Location: The Ball
Interactions: @Oso Ambrose @HylianRose Lucian @Tae Mina @Remram Nolan @Lava Alckon Drake @CitrusArms Stratya
Mention: @samreaper Kazumin

---

Marina had been making an obvious face as she watched Charlotte Vikena walk in, her mouth agape, and her brow lifted. She pictured the girl wearing her usual pretty ribbon in her hair and some lacy white thing last she saw her. This was not the same girl… Was it?

She tilted her head sideways to get a different look at her, finding herself remembering how much she enjoyed the female form, when her chest suddenly tightened. She really does resemble her. Marnie let her gaze shift to Lucian and saw the same recognition. Her expression softened. However, she couldn't help but wonder if there was more than that for a moment, her brows furrowing in confusion.

However, her attention soon snapped toward the next entrance the moment the herald’s announcement strangled itself into: Mr. Kazoo…the Skip Meister.

Her brows lifted, and a loud noise escaped her lips as she nearly burst into laughter.

Then she saw him: the cowlicked blonde from that morning, skipping and sliding through the ballroom with sunflowers bobbing from his hat.

A delighted gasp escaped her and she commented, her voice pitching upward, “No way!”

Marina watched, fascinated, her eyes sparkling as she followed his every move. Then, without invitation, or the slightest concern for dignity, she began to follow along from where she stood.

A tiny hop. A shoulder shimmy. One hand lifted her fan like a prop while her feet attempted some clumsy imitation of his skip-and-slide. “....He’s too nimble for my toes.” The over-confidence in her movements was the only thing between Marina and the floor. She was clearly not good at it, but she also did not care.

“Now that’s how you enter a ball.” she declared, giddy, giving one last silly twirl before catching herself with a laugh.

Even if she had found Kazoo’s performance grand, she could not help but notice the effect it had in painting the final touches on the masterpiece of denial. Everyone had loved it, even King Edin. Whether or not it had been his idea, it had certainly served him well.

"Count Sebastian Blackwood and the Lady Mina Blackwood of Varian!" the herald then announced. And that was enough for Marina to become positively thrilled. She hadn’t seen her dear friend for weeks now and she simply could not wait a moment longer.

She watched as her and her uncle greeted Edin and for a moment she pondered if she had been supposed to do that. Then she shook her head. She would have called him Peedin. That was for certain. Then she’d be standing trial tomorrow with Lord Ravenwood , and Ambrose would have that vein in his forehead pulsing all night.

When Mina finally approached–or well bumped into Ambrose, her attention remained on him. Marnie was a little jealous, because she had wanted to talk to Mina first, and it made her want to kick the marble ball floor. But before she could complain, the looks on their faces made her pause.

She sucked in her lower lip as she vaguely recalled that there had been something between them once upon a time. Something old enough to have gathered dust, but clearly not old enough to stop hurting. Her gaze shifted to Lucian, partly to see if he was seeing this too, only to realize he had been staring at Mina in a type of way himself.

Marina blinked.

Then her eyes moved back to Ambrose.

Then to Mina.

Then to Lucian.

A long, low whistle left her lips before she really thought about how it would make everything more awkward.

And of course, because there was apparently not enough happening, more people came over.


"Um, hello there. My apologies if we are interrupting."

Marina turned toward the speaker, and her smile brightened sincerely.

“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 his eyes met hers, and she waved happily at him.

“It’s great to see you again, Princess Camilla. You look…”

Her brows lifted.

“You look lovely tonight.”

The fact that he seemed to need a second to find the word made her cheeks warm.

“Very lovely.”
That, unfortunately, made them worse.

“I—yes. You too!” Marina replied, a touch too quickly.

“I, uh, I hope this night has found everyone well so far. Have you all been able to enjoy your stay in Caesonia?”

“I meant lovely back to you in a very manly and masculine way,” Marina informed him, circling back to the topic he had just tried to run from, because she had overthought it as well. For a reason beyond herself, she put her hands on her hips and straightened her posture. “Obviously.”

Her gaze started to shift about but she was already expecting the outcome of her behavior and she defensively ordered them: “Nobody make a face at me.”

Then she shook her head as if she was waking herself from a slumber. She lifted her fingers and snapped them sharply as she announced, “Alright! I have many matters needing attention, and my brain is very disorganized from the chaotic manner of events that have just unfolded!”

Before she could even think properly, the beautiful knight-savior herself, Captain Stratya Durmand, approached and, of all things, asked Ambrose for a dance.

Marina’s eye twitched as her hands remained in the air.

“Okay! Ambrose, you are dismissed to the alluring,the darling, Captain Stratya!” she declared, like she had granted permission for a military deployment. “But now everyone’s eyes on Marnie, please!” She pointed down at her face and smiled cheekily.

“Now nobody move a muscle. Nobody talks!” She turned her pointed fingers into finger-guns then aimed them straight at Mina.

She crossed the distance in an instant and threw her arms around her dear friend with absolutely no regard for dignity, manners, or whatever strange romantic tragedy had just been floating in the air moments prior. Marina glomped her with the force of several weeks of absence, squeezing her tightly before planting a flurry of affectionate kisses across her cheeks and temple.

“I missed you, I missed you, I missed you,” she declared between kisses, finally pulling back just enough to beam at her. “And you look SO good, Mina! Wow!” No wonder she was breaking hearts tonight. Marina decided she probably didn’t need to say that though.

Only when Marina had felt as if she had properly greeted her friend did she whirl back toward Nolan, remembering herself with a little gasp.

“And you!” She pointed at him, though her smile softened almost immediately. “Lord Nolan Edwards. Hello properly. I have been hoping to see you.”

Her cheeks warmed slightly, but she lifted her chin as if that hid the former. “I have a present for you, actually.” She informed him. “A very important one.” Then, as if a bell rang somewhere in the corner of her brain, Marina turned abruptly to Drake.

She stared at him for a second, then offered him a smile. “Hello there, Lord Drake Edwards,” she said. “This is me greeting you. Hi.”

Her gaze shifted about the group one more time to make sure all had been addressed. “My point of order ceases. Please go about as you were.”

[Infinite Cosmos]

color:ffce00
-Grand Ball Room-
-outfit-
-Interaction:@Tae Ranya @princess Dear Uncle Hafiz @Remram Askel @AuthenticTomb Aslam

"Whoa, whoa easy there, little sister. ‘Cast stones’? That’s adorable. I’m not here to judge, I’m here to keep you in one piece. I’ve been burned, badly, and you, of all people, know that. I’m not about to sit back and watch you walk into the same fire. I’d end him if I had to. Don’t look at me like that, you know I would.

Relax, I’m not building you a cage. I’m installing security. Big difference. Emotional chaos? Not on my watch. And spare me the ‘status’ speech, I couldn’t care less. That nonsense doesn’t move the needle for me. You’re my little sister. That’s the headline, the fine print, and everything in between. Your happiness? Non negotiable.

So yeah, I need to know, this prince you’re suddenly starry eyed over… is he actually worth it? I’ll give him this, so far, no red flags. Which, coming from me? Practically a standing ovation. And you know how ruthlessly discerning I can be."

Munir let it all spill out in one rapid fire burst, his thoughts outrunning his filter. The air around them tightened, warmed, her shift in mood practically radiating off her.

Then it flipped again.

Two words from Ranya, and everything clicked. Their uncle. Of course. The shadow behind the throne. The man who circled the light of the Sultan but never quite touched it. Always second. Always watching.

Munir’s gaze slid sideways toward the vizier, sharp and measuring. Then, in their mother tongue, low and smooth:

"Hey, hey. Breathe, little sister. You’re fine. He’s fine. Nobody’s dropping dead at a dance tonight. Uncle’s bold, sure, but he’s not stupid. Making a move here? That’s a death sentence, and he knows it. Your prince? He lives to see the end of the night. And yes, you’ll get that dance you’ve been dying for."

As he murmured to her, calm and steady, he caught Hakim’s eye and gave a subtle flick of his fingers, send Zahra over. No words needed.

"You’re right, by the way. You are the Chosen. Act like it. Pull yourself together, Zahra’s on her way. Have her help you fix your sari and perhaps cover up the doings of that vile man with some makeup or whatever it is you girls do to be radiant all the time. I’ve got this. Come find us when you’re back to being you."

He leaned in, pressed a quick, soft kiss to her forehead, then turned and strode toward Askel, Aslam, and Hafiz.

By the time he reached them, Munir was exactly what they expected, what he always was. Effortless confidence. Bright, magnetic presence. A touch too arrogant, just reckless enough to make it interesting.

Hafiz wouldn’t dare try anything here. Not in the open. Not with eyes everywhere. That alone gave Munir a little extra spark, and he leaned into it.

"Uncle! Always a pleasure, truly. Wishing you outrageous health and even more outrageous success. Brother Aslam, surviving the festivities, I hope? Prince Askel, good to see you."

He’d caught the uncle’s veiled threat on the way in, but chose, very deliberately, to ignore it. Let it hang. Let it rot.

Munir snapped his fingers lightly, summoning a servant with drinks without breaking stride.

"What a night, hm? The proxy of our father, the second most powerful man in Alidasht, my brilliant brother, and of course, our esteemed prince, all under one roof. If that’s not worth celebrating, I don’t know what is."

The servant arrived; Munir plucked a glass of champagne first, easy, casual.

"So, what are we drinking to? The Sultan, obviously. May he reign forever. And may his line continue to do so long after we’re all nothing but stories."

He raised his glass, a glint in his eye, waiting, daring, the others to follow.

[Remram]

Askel Camila

Location: Grand Ballroom
Attire: Starry Night Attire
Interactions:@Infinite Cosmos Munir @princess Assfiz @AuthenticTomb Aslam
Mentions:@Tae Ranya

---

What an odious creature the Grand Vizier was. Every single word that came out of his mouth made his skin crawl though Askel maintained a veneer of tranquility. How many times had he met such men, cruel and callous with the lives of others for their own means? It would never fail to unnerve him that such men could have been born through mothers rather than crawl out of whatever dark crevice that their souls truly originated from. This, though, he could take. He could listen to Hafiz's threats against his life, he could take the condescension, hell, he could even take the blatant insults. What he could not take were the disparaging comments of Ranya.

While maintaining that veneer his jaw clenched. Hafiz spoke of her as a thing, a caricature.

The inferno that swelled within threatened to consume him and the only thing he could think about was how to unmake Hafiz. He could challenge him to a duel. He could cleave him in two, rend him asunder, break every bone in his body, grind him down until his dust cried for mercy.

But what would that solve?

The scandal would not be able to be contained and his relationship with Ranya would have been destroyed anyway. The Sultan would not hear it; the death of his brother would cloud all reason and the threat of war between Varian and Alidasht would loom over the horizon. No, it was a path of destruction that would lead to only ruin.

No, instead, he let that fire burn within him, but he was its master not the other way around. For Ranya he would turn that fire into a source of power like a flame in a forge to craft a fine blade. For her he would be that blade, sharp and enduring.

In perfect Galazlian Askel said with a pleasant smile, "How many lives of men do you think I've trampled upon just to stand here tonight?" His violet eyes that once shone like the sun breaking through the night bore into Hafiz with something new, something dangerous, but familiar to the prince himself.

"Those without fear are the first to die, Grand Vizier," stated the knight-prince with expert authority on the matter. "They lack awareness and foresight, strutting like a peacock with thinly veiled threats and implications believing themselves to be hunters when they are in fact the prey. Those with fear, who temper it, are the ones you should be wary of for they are the master of themselves and thus the masters of war, whether it be the backdrop of cannons and rifles or set to the tune of violins."

Askel lazily swirled the wine in his glass as he chuckled. "I have met a hundred of 'Hafiz' as well; charming, ambitious, and intelligent though they are never as smart as they think they are. They fall all the same for they fail to see their own undoing. The funny thing is that they never realize it until it's too late."

His smile deepened, but his eyes still had that dangerous quality to them. "But that's just the opinion of a foreigner. That's the wonderful thing about being a foreigner though; you can either broaden your horizons or you remain in your hole, foolish and arrogant in your ignorance. Why, if I had not spent all of that time in Alidasht perhaps I would have had 'romantic' notions." He let out a laugh. It was such a farce.

Askel took another step forward towards the man, unwavering and daring in the face of his foe and yet measured and calculating. "A veil is merely a piece of cloth until it isn't just as a blade is only a refined hunk of steel until you bury it in someone's heart."

He chuckled dismissively. "Although, I doubt you know what the latter is like. The strength of character needed to take another's life with your own hands and the responsibility to shoulder it would be lost on you, which is why your brother is the Sultan and why you never a true candidate. Though I suppose that is why you sided with your brother, is it not? I mean..."

There was something venomous in his smile, charming as it was. "You were afraid that he was going to kill you too, weren't you? You were not the master of yourself, so in the face of true adversity and terror... you blinked."

Askel held his gaze with the Grand Vizier until it was broken by the much needed levity brought by Munir who also shared the same feelings about their uncle.

The prince dropped back to the common tongue of the world and said with a very cheeky grin, "Oh, I tried that one already, Shehzade Munir. He is quite proud of his position, such as it is,"

He lifted the glass up and said, "Cheers, to the Sultan and if I were to be so bold I would like to make an addition. May the relationship between Alidasht and Varian grow unencumbered."

[princess]

Time: Evening
Location: Carriage → Ballroom
Attire: Outfit
Interaction: @Potter Olivia @Oso Cassius
Mention: @samreaper Kazumin

---

“Oh yes… I’m feeling quite lovely, actually.”

Charlotte plucked a small piece of bread from the basket and leaned her back against the edge of the table as if she were in her own sitting room. She took a knife and began to neatly butter the bread, then she let her gaze rise slowly to look at Olivia and Cassius through her lashes, the corners of her lips tugging upward. "If this is about the dress, I only thought it rude not to dress on theme," she added with a soft giggle.

She took a tidy bite as she always did in public, eyes wandering thoughtfully across the ballroom. Her blue eyes lingered momentarily on a few figures, noting their rigid shoulders and the heaviness they carried in their gaze, the way their smiles didn't quite reach their eyes. She tilted her head curiously as she licked a trace of butter off her finger.

"So, " Lottie began mildly, brushing crumbs off her hand. “how are you two?” she asked gently. Then, she added a little quieter an observation: “There’s a strange demeanor about everyone tonight, don’t you think? As if there’s a storm cloud looming over the room and nobody wishes to point it out.”

As if the world itself had heard her and decided it could not bear such heaviness for long, Kazumin’s entrance stole the attention of the ballroom. Charlotte straightened without meaning to, her expression brightening. She watched him dance with open awe, a smile forming on her face as awe painted her features and brightened her eyes. It was as if the performance alone had made her eyes look younger. “Oh—he’s spectacular,” she breathed, delighted, her wonder completely unguarded. “I heard such wonderful things about him in the theatre, but truly… it’s different seeing it in person.” She told them excitedly, her eyes drifting to Olivia with warm curiosity for a moment.

Her smile softened as she took in her friend's reaction. The moment felt somehow nostalgic, as if she already knew this was a memory worth holding on to. "You know, Olivia, when I first met him, he told me the most bittersweet story and he performed it like such a professional. "

She smiled softly. “He must have entertained you often as a child.” Then, with a bright curiosity, she started making several inquiries. “Do you dance as well? Sing? Play an instrument?”

Only then did Charlotte tug a chair out and slide into it between them, legs immediately crossing. “I rather adore music,” she continued happily. “Mother was adamant about my piano lessons, and I was adamant about continuing my singing lessons after my father was no longer around to teach me..." Her smile turned a little wistful, but it did not dim. She leaned her chin in her hand and proclaimed, “Life without music would be positively boring.”

And then, as if it had been inevitable, her attention drifted back to Cassius, expression softening beyond permission or intention. She did not mean to look at him the way she did, but she had done so, nonetheless.

Her gaze moved slowly, catching on every feature of his face as if her eyes had forgotten how to look away. “Are you alright, darling?” she asked, her voice more tender now. Her eyes searched his face with care—the kind she never seemed able to withhold from him, no matter how much she tried to be sensible about it… and yet it was almost as if it were on full display, more than it ever had been. “You…” Her smile faltered, only slightly, but those blue eyes of hers stayed honest. “…seemed a little… off, when I came over.”