Lava Alckon

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Drake

Time: Evening of the 28th
Location: Banquet Hall
Mentions: Thea @Tae, Gideon and Victoria @princess, Ariella, @Tpartywithzombi, and Leo @Helo

---

Following his exchange of pointed words - quite a bit happened. It almost felt like en masse people began to vacate the banquet hall. Naturally some of them were because of chaos happening at other tables - but Drake still had this paranoid moment of “gods what if me making them leave started a domino effect.”

The most hurtful departure of all though was definitely Thea’s. The swift way she slipped apart from his grip felt like she was retreating to a place he could not follow - as if she was telling him that she wanted to be alone. As she scraped her chair and began her exit, Drake raised his hand in a futile attempt to call her back, but felt his throat clog as he went to call her name. Shortly after she rose, his sister went too. Drake followed her movements as he once again found himself at a loss for words.

Perhaps it would be best if let the women have their moment together - he trusted Ari to know how to console someone. It was a skill Drake lacked - and for better or for worse he decided it would be best to save face for the family and simply stay there. If anything it would be a good a time as any to get to know Thea’s brother. He seemed like a rather reasonable man all things considered.

”Sadly what you say makes about as much sense as a fever dream. But I shan't speak out about it publicly.” Drake poured a nearby bottle of pinot noir into his chalice and took a small sip. The lord took a moment to ponder the situation - words were obviously shared in heated passion, but it reeked of undertones and hidden meanings. Like he was looking through smoked glass trying to ascertain the entire scene.

”While what they say on all accounts is harsh - I think there lies something deeper. Perhaps some unhidden drama we have yet to see surface.” As his speculation was voice, Charlotte parted the seas of strife and offered a solitary hug to Cassius before quickly making her exit. Soon to follow was the lover-boy himself. ”Like that. It seems we are shrinking by the very second. Try not to cause anymore trouble, Sir.” He looked at Leo with a content smirk and chuckled.

”I jest. I must say it is rather intriguing to talk with you Lord Smithwood. A man of many stories and thoughts with many eloquent ways to paint the picture.” Drake placed the chalice down to turn his torso towards the other man. ”As easy as it is for me to say, I have only the most honest of intentions for your sister. This is not simply some form of courtship for the sake of courting.” He paused, searching for the right words.

”Call me a fool if you wish, but I am a man who still believes in love of the truest form - and I may yet have found that in your sister, to be perfectly frank. It honestly makes it even harder having to sport my political voice like that in front of her. But it felt like things were simply building into an inevitable topple - so I hope you understand that is not my normal state. I tend to prefer the more stoic and measured spectrum of emotion.”

Reaching for the nearby beef wellington to gracefully slide it onto his plate before continuing. ”I appreciate your words earlier - having a little support in moments like those makes me feel like less of a tyrant trying to impose his will on those around him.” Drake would cut off a portion and silently offer it to Leo in a show of good faith before resuming the conversation.

”I also like to think we share the same sentiment on protecting our family through the means we find the most fitting. It’s rather poetic in a sense.” The way he said this part seemed to carry a similar weight to what Leo had shared earlier - it wasn’t necessarily a threat. More of an explanation of the lengths he would go for family’s sake.

But despite the somber message Drake still smiled as he took a bite of the wellington. He savored the delicious meal in small bites before talking again. ”If it makes you feel any better - no words that others may share about your sister carry any weight to how I feel about her. It only proves that they are blind to the person she really is.”

”I think our sisters are alike in that way.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Drake

Time: Evening of the 28th
Location: Banquet Hall
Mentions: Thea @Tae, Gideon and Victoria @princess, Ariella, @Tpartywithzombi, and Leo @Helo

---

The following exchange of words between parties left Drake entirely speechless. He was normally one to socially navigate these sorts of social interactions but this was a first for him. The man was entirely lost - almost torn in half between supporting his sister and Thea yet still wanting to appease his parents at least somewhat. He agreed that Victoria’s outbursts were childish - downright apprehensible in his honest opinion. However, to fight fire with fire only begets an inferno that would engulf anyone involved.

He knew this - and it would seem Leo did as well. There was a brief moment where Drake stared at his plate with empty eyes - barely thinking a thought as he seemed to get stuck on a mental loop of what he could say to keep both sides appeased. The moment Lord Smithwood spoke up, the relief on Drake’s face was evident. A slightly tightened grip on Thea’s hand had loosened.

”You know, Sir Smithwood. I actually did not get a chance to hear such events unravel at the-” But it was all too late. Only mere moments into his comfortable cadence Drake felt his blood freeze as the crimson liquid spilled over his mothers dress.

Gods help me. Give me one night of cordial family time. Just one.

Drake breathed in slowly. Almost too slowly. Painfully slowly. Like a dam of emotion threatening to crash out at any moment, kind of slow breathing. ”Father. It might be best to find Mother a change of clothes so that you may both be back in posthaste. The sooner the better.” He quickly darted his eyes back and forth between his father and the rapidly approaching volcanic-magnitude eruption that was soon to be his wife.

Drake then turned to match his mother’s gaze. ”Do. Not. I know what you are thinking. But do not. Not here.” His stern look channeled a mixture of authority as heir to the Edwards dukedom and the plea of a son who just wants his family to get along.

Drake then huffed as he reached both of his hands up to clasp together over his plate. In the most measured yet annunciated tone - he spoke to the arguing parties just loudly enough for them to hear but not so much as others could eavesdrop. ”I am going to be stern this one time to all of you. Behave now. I do not want anymore bickering - anymore ‘accidents’ - anymore anything. I would much rather enjoy a lovely dinner with my lovely family and my lovely date and her lovely family.” Drake paused and subtly pointed his index finger at the currently erupting Damien debate happening just a table over. ”At this current moment - no one is even looking at us over the barbaric shouting match happening a few seats over. So please resolve this discretely and we can blow up about it at home. Do not make us look like a bunch of ragabonds who cannot settle their differences for one damned meal.” His gaze, while still caring, seemed more like a disappointed parent than anything else as he made sure to make eye contact with everyone.

”Furthermore...if I hear one more pointed jab, or fake attempt of jesting through thinly veiled metaphors - I am going to make that table’s little blowout over there look like a godsdamn Christmas party. A sight that will surely stun the entire banquet hall as I don’t think I’ve ever even raised my voice. Nonetheless, do I make myself clear?” He hated to be that guy, but someone had to literally pull the reins on this conversation before things went even more south than it already had. A brief show of intimidation may be the way - but it all depended on how his family took the news. His hand slid back down towards Thea’s hand for an apologetic caress over the back of her hand. Drake straightened himself and waited for those addressed to react.

If they chose chaos over order - then so be it.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Farim

Location: Castle Dining Hall
Time: Evening of the 28th
Mentions: Hafiz, Anastasia @princess, Nahir @Rodiak, Kira @Potter, and Rohit@Helo

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The gentle squeeze of the woman he admired made all of the other noise in the banquet hall simmer to a dull buzz. It was nothing but background chatter to him. With a smile like hers, how could he pay attention to anything else?

”If you keep dazzling me like this. I might start believing you crossed kingdoms just to see me.”

”Whose to say I have not? The winds work in mysterious ways.” He innocently sung.

There was however, one bit of noise he could not just ignore. ”And here I thought the performance was this morning.”

Ever the critic, this man. Farim turned his eyes slightly towards him. ”You always were my biggest fan.”

He could go on but the truth as he saw it was laid pretty bare. For all his bravado, Hafiz was obsessed with his son; just as any other father rightfully would be. But in Farim’s eyes, Hafiz’s obsession was deeper, something far more dangerous. Like watching something slowly slip from your grasp, only to lock your fingers tighter and tighter until you feel that disheartening snap beneath ones fingers.

The Shehzade had provoked the snake enough for now. His attention went back to Anastasia as she beamed over future charitable endeavors. His face reflected a look of serenity, watching her describe her desires to help the citizens of her nation. ”Your generosity knows no bounds, Princess. I do agree that it sounds like an enjoyable little adventure to give back to those that give the land and country so much.” Farim flashed a knowing glance at Nahir - something of a signal to her if she would notice. It was something he wished to start back home - albeit in more discrete and borderline illegal ways. Perhaps instead of manipulating the market, a simple charity drive would do wonders. But those were ideas for another time.

The ideas that Rohit and Kira shared though. Now those caught Farim’s attention. He turned his body to better address those that conversed while still strategically and adamantly holding onto Anastasia’s hand. ”Brilliant ideas, my friends! Robit, the idea of making it into a sanctioned event could do wonders for publicity as you so tactfully mentioned.”

”And Kira! Such a thoughtful notion. A cultural exchange could lessen the gap ever so slightly between our traditions so we can get a closer look at our future allies. I must say you speak like a true diplomat.” He smirked as he motioned for a nearby butler to fill his glass with “his finest rosé”. Farim waited patiently for a bottle to be brought and then poured into his glass before taking a tasteful sip. Yet again he gave Annie’s knuckle a gentle squeeze as he continued.

”I am even willing to part with some coin in order to get this event … how you say … on its legs? On the one condition that I get to hear more of that beautiful cello performance from you, Anastasia.” Farim flashed a cheeky grin before turning his head at the vast array of edible options in front of him. Oh right. There is food here.

Farim raised his glass and returned the toast mentioned earlier. ”To poor impulse control and pretty people.” He smiled coyly as he took another drink.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Drake

Time: Evening of the 28th
Location: Banquet Hall
Mentions: Thea/Torvi @Tae, Gideon and Victoria @princess, Ariella, @Tpartywithzombi, Leo/Callum @Helo, Cassius @PapaOso, Lorenzo @FunnyGuy, and Kazumin @Samreaper

---

Drake flashed his tried and true charisma-fueled smile at the nearby nobles at the table, nodding towards his father after his compliment. ”Thank you for the good graces, Father. I’m glad to be here with everyone. Tonight is surely one to be filled with quite a few interesting turns of events.”

The man turned his head downward to the smiling lady who had taken her seat so gracefully. She really was the picture of grace and beauty - and the way she reacted to his attire sent a tingling flight-like sensation along the center of his back. After his paused stare, he blinked and lingered his hand just in front of her as she grabbed onto it. Even after she released he would let it sit in case she needed any further inspection or time to simply admire his appreciation for her gift.

”Well of course. You gave them to me. I couldn’t wait to find an occasion to show them off, my lady.” He smiled warmly. Drake met Leo’s handshake firmly and observed to the side as Lady Vikena approached with her gift. His hand grew gentle in Leo’s as he beamed with earnest delight at her new hair clip. “It looks perfect, Lady Thea.” He was tempted to add on a “just like you” - but there’s a time and a place for such flirting.

Drake took a moment to scan around the room for this supposed big puppy, and his gaze landed briefly on a strong looking woman with a large canine companion. Big Puppy? That’s a whole bloody dire wolf. I wasn’t even sure they existed. He coughed softly. “Now, Lady Thea. I appreciate your excitement for such an exotic and quite fluffy guest. But they almost seem to be akin to a service animal. Twould behoove us not to disturb them while they were performing their job for that woman.”

Drake leaned down and whispered into Thea’s ear. ”Plus, if petting cute animals is what you seek. I shall introduce you to my newly established menagerie of critters.” He snickered. ”A result of a fruitful birthday party.” The lord straightened his posture. ”I also understand you yourself are having such a party this evening. I’m very much excited for it!”

It was around then that Ariella chimed in with her retort towards their spiteful mother. Drake simply kept his same smile, not wanting to egg on further reactions. But Ariella had the right of it - to belittle your own children in public was something they both found tasteless. Still, the man chimed in optimistically “Well hopefully some good food can bring us together! And perhaps some scathing reviews of various shenanigans throughout the night.” He ended slyly, moving to take his seat near Lady Thea. Drake kept the hand closest to her on his thigh turned upwards, as if inviting her to take it if she pleased - but not forcing the matter.

Between the fiery red fashion choices, eccentric outfits from the foreign dignitaries and nobility, and even some local figures bearing interesting clothing options; Drake felt his idea of being “slightly bold” with an orange rose and aquamarine cufflinks was muted in comparison. Which to him was not really what he cares about. Just that he could see that joyful smile on Thea’s face.

Drake took in the various events happening around in the brief moments as he hailed a waiter to fill his drink with a generic red vintage. He saw Cassius ruffle Milo’s jacket, the Alidasht scheming far off in their corner, as well as a questionably distinguished Callum blowing cheeky kisses and commandeering absolute attention and respect. Not to mention Lorenzo’s usual outbursts and fanfare that seemed to spawn from within his very core. It would be abnormal if he didn’t draw some attention. He took note of the one young man from the talent show - Drake recalled his name to be Kazumin. Now he seemed to be the new royal jester? What a turn of events.

Taking all of these factors in, it was clear tonight would be anything but an ordinary banquet.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Farim

Location: Castle Dining Hall
Time: Evening of the 28th
Mentions: Hafiz and the Danroses, @princess@Silverpaw@Helo, Nahir @Rodiak, Count Fritz @JJ Doe, and anyone who wants to approach Farim during his walk

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The usual underhanded banter from his father was nothing to be surprised about. Farim had seen it a thousand times over since his youth. He hardly blinked at the words Hafiz slathered back in his direction as he placed the goblet back down. It was funny, in its own way, that the man who goes home to several wives and concubines talk about ‘wine from a cup he didn’t pour’. He pondered the last time Hafiz had even bothered to pour his own drink, and a smirk peered across his lips.

“Heavens forbid, I would choke on such a smooth and tame drink. Would be a tragedy really.” Farim paused. “As much as I enjoy your splendors, I think I shall partake of a more recent vintage - something more…modern.” A playful hint at the passage of time - and its inevitable effect on everyone. Farim stopped to hear Hafiz’s lamentations about Lorenzo, and chimed in just at the end. “Considering how much you’ve been around that man and how much his actions seem to brush off onto you - shall I call one of our sages to look you over?” Another deliberate pause before letting his breath exhale in a show of humor.

“I merely jest. I shall let you be for once, I have far grander things to attend to at the moment.” A final jab - which his father would likely ignore or chastise in the moment. But Farim would let him take that final swing if Hafiz so desperately wanted it.

There was a smile on his face as a certain someone had sung happily to his arrival. Anastasia had that effect on him, as if the world seemed to blur at the edges when she was in frame. He placed Thara gently along the arm of the Princess’ chair, in a spot that would not infringe upon her space. “Oh nonsense! You performed very well - it would take a lot to ruin such magnificence!” The Shehzade paused for a moment, his hands hovering as if suspended mid-grab, before he gently tucked his hand under hers to raise it up to his lips. Farim bowed down and placed a gentle kiss along her knuckle. “The pleasure is mutual, Your Grace.” He grinned at the coy use of her title due to the regal circumstances.

“Pardon me a moment, I must greet our gracious hosts. A most regal and opulent pairing of souls.” He spoke that part just a touch louder than most other words in case the nearby Danroses would hear - but if not he paid no worry. Farim approached Prince Auguste, the next in line in the royal row of seats that had been chosen at this far end of the table - his hand lingering just a touch longer on Annie’s arm. “I will be right back. Promise.” He said softly.

Now onto the greetings - starting with Prince Auguste. Farim offered a formal bow. “Prince, while our interactions are sparse, I hope this changes in the coming days - it is always such a pleasure to see you at these events and elsewhere. We simply must have a proper conversation here soon - perhaps tonight even.” Short and sweet, with possibly more to come later. Farim had in one way or another come into contact with at least half of the royal heirs - and a touch with the King and Queen themselves. It would only make sense to acquaint himself with the others.

Then came the King and Queen themselves. Already knee deep in interactions, judgements, and observations - Farim pushed one arm out and left the other over his chest as he bowed to his fullest extent in front of them. “Your Majesties…” His voice seemed to change at this greeting, a silver-tongued flourish coming out as he talked to them. “I am honored to be among the guest list tonight. Allow me to extend a personal thank you as well for gracing the theater with your extravagance earlier this morning - hopefully my show was educational and entertaining.” Farim paused - holding himself back from thinking about how the King had called Thara an “ostrich”.

“Having such charitable endeavors really speaks volumes on your generosity as rulers of this fine nation. I have come to really enjoy my time here.” At this point he had risen back to a standing position with his arms crossed as he talked. “There is a matter I wish to discuss in a more private setting if your itinerary and good graces would allow - but if not I can always make time for the both of you.” Farim gave good pause to give a chance for a short exchange of dialogue between them before giving another brief bow upon his exit. “One can rarely get the chance to see greatness in the flesh - so Your Majesties have given me quite the miracle today. I hope I can live up to any expectations you have of me or my nation.” Farim made sure that he locked eyes with both Alibeth and Edin as he said this, and made his way to the two male heirs seated adjacent to the King.

Farim stopped by Wulfrics chair and offered a bow, one arm crossing his chest with the other at its side - a more modest approach compared to the one he gave his parents. “Always the picture of perfection when it comes to appearances, Prince Wulfric. You seem to have quite the aura about you this evening - more than usual.” Farim took a brief glance over at Prince Callum. “As does your sibling.” His face seemed to change into perplexity. Something is different about him. Is it the crown? Was it just always high or drunk when we last saw each other? His memory went back to the last event they had been together - the forest on the edge of town. Where all the Varians had partaken in drinking a strange potion that caused interesting visions. Nonetheless - Farim took a mental note of this change of demeanor and continued.

“Prince Callum - a fine arrangement of fabrics you chose tonight. I hope the evening treats you well. It is always a pleasure to be around such reputable members of high society.” Even Farim began to think the brown-nosing was getting a bit much, so he toned it back for the time being. “I simply wished to pay my respects, so forgive any intrusions. If you have any need of this Trade Prince, I shall be seated over there.” He pointed over to his seat behind Alexander and near Rohit, and took his leave with a friendly wave.

It was here that Farim strode the long way around the room - taking lots of mental observations of who was in attendance. His long fabrics almost seemed to blend into the shadows and the floor despite their clashing colors - a weird visual effect that would trip up anyone not paying close attention to the golden trim that divided the clothes from the floor. There was the Sorian table on the western side, the middle table filled with a majority of this other land - Varians. Farim knew little of them - and hoped to possibly change this throughout the course of the night and onward. And the easternmost table that sat a majority of his homelands dignitaries and royals. At the head of each table, a figure of Sorian nobility. Fitting. Given this is their home turf. Only makes sense to sprinkle some personal influence amongst the nations - very aptly made seating arrangement.

Farim continued his measured stride around the room. There were quite a few sights to be had. A man showing off his gentlemanly nature, a few colored suits that outshined a lot of other guests, whether through sheer absurdity or particularly bold color choices. There were a few familiar faces that Farim mentally checked off in his head. Ariella, Kalliope, Lady Charlotte, Lord Roman, the puppet boy from the show….Kazumin was his name? What an interesting list of guests. Not the least of all….Hala Sami. What is he doing here? Why did Hafiz seem all too overjoyed at his arrival - definitely some curious figures at this banquet. Maybe tonight won’t be a simple wine and dine after all. He paused as he took the time to look around the edges of the room, spotting a familiar face. Ah, Count Fritz. Even here we meet in such intriguing circumstances - ever the mysterious bystander this one.

The man continued his lengthy strides around the room - offering professional and friendly greetings to any and all who would approach him, before he made his way back to his seat. It was here that he noticed the arrival of his cousin. His gentle smile only grew more at the presence of Nahir gently teasing him. “Never. Because if I am enjoying myself - then it is likely a good time to be had, no?” He sat down in his seat before continuing. “Good to see you, cousin. I see that you put the ‘fashion’ into ‘fashionably late’. I am loving the style and arrangements.” While he mentioned the ‘late’ part, he truly didn’t care. He just wanted to make a light joke and tell her what the whole room was thinking. She was obviously killing it. And she deserved to know it.

Farim turned back towards Anastasia and offered his hand towards her with a soft voice. ”Told you I would be back - did you miss me?”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Drake

Time: Evening of the 28th
Location: Banquet Hall
Mentions: Thea @Tae, King and Queen Danrose @princess, Wulfric @SilverPaw, and Leo @Helo

---

Drake gets dressed

After his time at the charity event, Drake was on airs. He held his head high and walked with swagger. His cadence was a message to all - today was a good day, and the young lord would do all in his power to continue making it as such.

Drake made it home and after some brief carousing with his house staff, made his way to his chambers to prepare. He was never a man to wear the same thing twice in such short time - so the question became…what to wear?

In the midst of all the regal authority and flashy foreigners, could he truly compete in the fashion department? Perhaps being simple and traditional was the key to standing out in a sea of opulence. Drake nodded to himself as he thought to himself in the mirror, and grabbed a simple black and white tuxedo jacket. But to be bland was too simple. There was some accents to his attire that would surely do just the right amount of flair to his outfit.

In his nightstand drawer, the man grabbed a familiar box that he had been given on his birthday. A pair of cufflinks that were made from his birthstone - a thoughtful gift from his beloved. If there ever was a time to unveil such a present. Now seems like an appropriate time. Drake fashioned his new accessories to his cuffs as a knock sounded from his bedroom door. It was Sebastian, his ever faithful right hand.

“Sir. The corsage you requested?”

”Yes, it's beautiful. Thank you, Sebastian. Help yourself to the winery once Mother and Father are gone - but don’t let anyone else see you. Wandering eyes speak many words, young man.”

A quick exchange of nods between the two was all that was needed. Drake, grinning ear to ear, places the orange rose fashioned like a pin onto the lapel of his jacket. His hands firmly pull on it to smooth any creases leftover from his movement before he makes his way to the family carriage.

Drake stepped out of his personal carriage, only mere minutes behind his family. He had made special adjustments to his otherwise traditional attire. A black suit jacket, black pants, and shiny black shoes with a splash of white from his undershirt. On his wrists he sported two pairs pearlescent cufflinks on either wrist - aquamarines that glimmered subtly as he strode under the extravagant chandeliers.

A single orange rose with a small arrangement of greenery pinned to his chest was an interesting choice of color - but he had a feeling the person he wore it for would appreciate it. He took one last chance to fix his hair, fingers sliding between black locks that flower like waves down to his shoulders. As he entered the room, a faint aroma like the sea wafted from him - a tasteful amount of one of his personal favorite colognes: “Voyage of the Sea”.

”Introducing, the Lord of House Edwards…Sir Drake!” cried the orator.

Drake smiled and gave a ceremonious wave to nearby company. He took quick stock of who was here and where they were - offering momentary glances and quick smiles to familiar faces. Stopping before the King and Queen, he bowed and addressed them.

”Another spectacular event, Your Royal Highness. I am looking forward to the expertly crafted palette of tonight's meals, and honored to be in such radiant presence.” Some might call it brown-nosing - Drake just saw it as a necessary formality for one such as Edin. He paused for their response, and gave proper leave before making his move back to his seat.

Before that, he stopped and placed his hand out towards Wulfric. ”And a good evening to you, Sir Wulfric. I hope you do not mind me removing some of the usual formalities.” Once their hands would make contact, Drake would lean in for a cheeky whisper. ”Lest I be the subject matter of your next scolding.”

Drake snickered slightly and regained his composure, finishing the handshake. ”I look forward to what the night brings. I hope it treats you well, Wulfric.” As Drake finished he strode towards his seat, where his eyes locked onto a stunning figure.

A casual pace turned into more of a purposeful stride as Lady Thea went to take her seat. Not too hurried, but just quick enough to take hold of the seat and offer it to her. ”Not that you needed my assistance, but it would behoove me to not offer the courtesy, Lady Smithwood.” With an outstretched hand, he gestured for her to sit, and allowed her the chance to view the special cufflinks up close. Once she was properly seated, Drake looked over to their left and saw a vaguely recognizable individual. The talk of the town - and apparently subject to many misfortunes. Still, the young lord greeted him as delightfully as any other.

”You must be Lord Smithwood. Pleasure to officially meet. I am Lord Drake Edwards.” He pushed his arm out for one of many handshakes of the night.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Flashback, Sola 27th
Ari & Drake

FLASHBACK!

Slap slap slap....

The sound of feet squelching through the freshly mopped foyer reverberated through the house, accompanied by the hurried shuffle of maids darting to and fro. Their faces were pinched with a mix of dread and exasperation. It was unmistakable—the wild, red-haired menace was home, and judging by the trail she was leaving, she’d brought half the outdoors with her.

A grimy trail of muddied footprints stretched across the gleaming floors, smeared further by water pooling in uneven streaks. The damp chaos climbed the grand staircase, where it morphed into soggy, muddy blotches, leaving behind a mess that only Ariella Edwards could create. Soft groans and sharp sighs of frustration rippled through the staff, the muttered laments about the freshly cleaned floors weaving into a quiet chorus.
Completely unfazed by the commotion in her wake, Ariella made her way directly to her brother’s office, her steps quick and purposeful. She knew Drake would be there - he always was when she needed him. As she reached the heavy oak door, her feet squelched once more, a fresh puddle forming beneath her.
Without hesitation, she raised her fist and knocked, the sound loud and firm, reverberating through the hall. Water, dirt, and a murky mix of unknown origins began to seep under the door, creeping into the room beyond like an uninvited guest.

“Drake!” she called, her voice carrying the same urgency as her footsteps. Whatever had brought her rushing home, it was sure to upend his day as thoroughly as she had the house.
There was a moment of silence as the delicate pen strokes of her brother’s pen danced across the parchment. He was in the process of writing letters of thanks to those that attended, among other smaller apologies for the rowdiness and other events that transpired. Drake rested the quill into its ink chamber and rose from the chair to greet the oddly wet-sounding knock that was confirmed to be his sister as soon as he heard the woman call his name.

Measured steps went up to the door, and that all-too-familiar pace of the door opening were the answer to Ariella’s shouts. ”And a good evening to you as well, sister. You are looking particularly…damp….this evening?” But there was something different in her stance. The way she stood staring at him intently that tipped the young lord off to this being far more than just a “big brother complaining session”.

He straightened his posture, stepped aside, and motioned towards his study. ”Come in. I’ll get you some towels.” He opened up a nearby cabinet that seemed to contain a myriad of assorted supplies - all from previous visits that he had eventually learned to keep stored just for her. He found a pair of thicker towels made from linen and cotton, and walked over to wherever she would sit. ”One to sit on, one to dry yourself with. What exactly happened that made you come rushing here dripping and muddy?” He asked patiently.

Her bewildered expression was clear as she stepped past him into his office. Her fingers hovered near her mouth, nails chewed nervously, while her distant eyes betrayed the turmoil in her thoughts.

“Ariellaaa…”

Her brother’s voice broke the silence, drawing her gaze sharply to him. He held out a towel, his expression a blend of concern and patience.

She took the towel without a word, using it first to dry her damp hair, then draping it around her shoulders for warmth. Another towel was placed on the chair across from his, where she moved to sit down. She pulled the fabric tighter around herself, the plush barrier doing little to chase away the chill she felt.
Lifting her gaze to meet his, her large green eyes seemed to plead for understanding, though she said nothing.
“I was in the woods…” She leaned back in the chair.“I went for a s-” she was about to lie. She caught herself. If she was going to find answers she needed to ask real questions. “I was practicing magic.” she admitted outright, her eyes unable to meet her brothers in fear of his reaction.

There was a sudden stop as Drake went from walking back to his desk. He took the time to pivot on his foot and slowly turn towards his sister. The look on his face expressed many levels of shock - how had she known? What made her do this? Is she reverting back to…? No she couldn’t be…Drake’s mind flurried with quick questions before he cleared his throat and focused his attention on Ariella. “Did anyone see you? Were you followed?” His tone dropped to a serious and borderline frantic state.

Slowly, she shook her head as she watched his expression. “No.” she said firmly “I didn’t do anything crazy I was just…” she paused for a moment “I was just testing out my aura, more of a curiosity then anything. And well…things were going normal for a moment then suddenly this darkness appeared but the only way that could happen is if I had preformed dark magic.” her looked up at her brother with concern “But i’ve never done that i’ve only ever once done a protection spell and that was it.”

Drake exhaled, casting his gaze downward for a moment. “I think it’s time you heard about something. Something I’ve regrettably held from you all these years. But before I start…Know that this was to keep you out of harm’s way, and to let you live the free life you’ve pined for since your youth.” He walked over to a small armchair and hoisted it nearby in Ariella’s vicinity. Taking a seat, Drake leaned onto his knees with his elbows and met his sister with a soft yet serious expression. He seemed to pause for quite a while, bordering on an almost eerily silence before he finally broke it with a gentle sound.

“When you were twelve, there was a similar incident to today that occurred. You had wandered into the woods to play, as you would often do, and came back crying to father about a ‘scary voice in the woods’.” Drake moved his arms down, fingers locking in between each other and his thumbs nervously fidgeting over one another. “Once we all went out to investigate, you began to be frantic. You kept saying how ‘it was right there’ but everytime we turned there would be, nothing…” Drake’s eyes looked down into his fists. “And then you started behaving strangely. Telling this voice to go away, that you wouldn’t ‘hurt your family’ and that ‘you only wanted to protect them’. Just as mother began to reach for you, as if by instinct, you put your hands out and put a ward between you and her. She nearly got knocked off her feet from the sudden shockwave of energy. But it quickly vanished.” Drake looked up to her, and blinked a few times before thinking of the right words to say here.

“But there was something sinister about it. Something was awakened that day. After you cast that fleeting spell, everyone present felt chills running down their backs - like the very woods were watching them. Sizing us up like a stalker towards its prey. We all quickly left, but not before….” Drake stopped himself. This was already so much to drop on her all at once, but it was time she heard about her past - about the secrets they burned that day.

Ari stared blankly at her brother in disbelief. She attempted to read his face but she knew Drake would never lie, not about this. Not to her. “Not before what?” she asked, her voice cracking slightly as she could feel his mood shift. Shifting in her chair she gripped onto the towel that laid along her lap.

Drake gripped onto his knees, struggling to find the words. The events that transpired that night were something out of a fairy tale. “You began to talk strangely. Telling us that ‘we couldn’t take your gift away’. You started to get really upset. So much so that you threw your arms up and began to say … some questionable things.” Drake sighed, his head now resting in his hand. “How you would never let it go. That it will always come back. That you would stop at nothing to get what you want.” Drake looked up at Ariella. “It was like you were possessed or something. Father was frightened. Mother was mortified. So…they did something desperate….” Drake paused for several moments - unsure of how to approach this delicate situation. He puffed his chest and decided he would be forthcoming about it - she deserved to know after all.

“They wiped your memory.”
Ariella's grip on the towel tightened, her knuckles turning white as the weight of Drake's words settled over her like a thick, suffocating fog. Her mind raced, grasping for fragments of memory that weren’t there, trying to make sense of something that had been stolen from her.
She wanted to laugh, to call him a liar, to insist that their parents would never do such a thing. But Drake didn’t lie. Not to her.

Her breath hitched. “No…” she whispered, shaking her head as her heartbeat pounded in her ears. “That’s not possible.” But the uncertainty in her own voice betrayed her.
A wave of nausea rolled over her, and she shot up from her chair, the towel falling to the floor. Her legs felt unsteady, like she was standing on shifting sand.

“What did they take from me, Drake?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but there was an edge to it, sharp and trembling. “What was so terrible that they thought they had the right to rip it from my mind?”

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides as flashes of something—feelings more than memories—buzzed at the edges of her consciousness. Anger. Desperation. A deep, unwavering certainty that something had belonged to her.
Her pulse quickened. “They had no right,” she hissed, her breath uneven.
Her stomach twisted violently. The betrayal burned, clawing at her insides like a caged animal.

“They had consulted many spirit healers before deciding what to do. You almost harmed one of them. They all came to the same conclusion - one that I find rather preposterous but it fed into Father and Mother’s worries even more.” Standing up, Drake walked across the room and towards his desk Ari’s wide eyes followed him, watching his each step with shock. From within one of his drawers he pulled out and produced an ornate key. A silvery design that looked like a wand from the right angle, with a tiny black stone embedded in its center. He marched towards a safe that was hidden behind several books on his bookshelf wall. Small enough to hide, yet large enough to contain a few secret items he felt was necessary to bring out given the circumstances.

“You were branded a witch. A magic user doomed to bring chaos and havoc upon everyone close to you. No one placed any faith in you - branded you a liability purely because you cast a few spells. What poppycock….” Ari’s brows furrowed, no one placed faith in her? No…instead they just took from her, attempting to control her even more than they had before. Drake’s last words were muttered in a hushed whisper - Drake was never known to curse, but the nature of the incidents leading to her memory wiping were frustrating and disagreeable on a fundamental level for him.

Ari could feel tears welling in her eyes as she attempted to gather her thoughts but her mind raced with so many emotions she couldn’t seem to manage them all.

As he clicked the safe open, he reached in for a number of items. A small notebook Ariella had kept during her time as a child - telling small stories of her different magical experiments. There was a pouch full of withered herbs and roots that had long since passed their expiration date. Drake made a noticeable expression at the pungent odor it emanated. Lastly, a small ornate wooden box with a silver lock on it - something Drake had found in her special place in the woods but could never find the key for. He handed all three of these items to her in a linen tote bag. She reached out, grabbing the bag and holding it tightly to her chest as a breath she hadn’t relized she had been holding let out with a soft sigh.

“I tried to protest - but I was only 14…they wouldn’t listen to me. But I did take the time to save some items from your little spot before they cleaned it out the first time. Your special place in the woods - it isn’t the first time you’ve been there. I knew it wouldn’t be your last either. So I saved what I could - and they either burned or destroyed the rest…I wish I could have told you sooner but I feared you would not believe me…” Drake hung his head for a moment. Despite all his prestige and all the skills he’s tried to cultivate over the years - his sister still remained one of the least protected people around him. Magic was a foreign notion to him - something he could scarcely imagine. Yet it was something he would have to struggle through understanding if he were to have any chance with helping his dear sister.

Clutching the bag of mysterious items, Ari felt a surge of magic crackling through her fingertips, tingling beneath her skin like tiny currents of electricity. Her grip tightened instinctively around the worn fabric, as if letting go would sever the fragile thread of understanding that had just begun to unravel before her. She lifted her gaze to her brother, her vision blurred by the tears welling in her eyes, her cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink.

It all made sense now—why Anna had been so baffled when Ari struggled to recall her favorite place, why she had needed to be shown the way back. Memories that had once been scattered like fallen leaves suddenly seemed to be pulling together, threads that had dangled loose now weaving toward something tangible. Though much was still shrouded in haze, this discovery felt like the first real step forward.

Without a second thought, Ari let the bag slip from her grasp, its contents forgotten as it landed with a soft thud at her feet. In a blur of motion, she bolted from her chair, propelled forward by a force greater than conscious thought. She collided with her brother’s chest, the sheer momentum of her small frame slamming into him like a carriage crashing into a stone wall. He staggered, momentarily off balance, but managed to steady himself just in time.

Ari’s arms wrapped around him with a desperate fervor, her slender fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as though anchoring herself to reality. She buried her face against him, her breath hitching before breaking into raw, uncontrollable sobs. The weight of all she had lost, of all she was beginning to reclaim, poured out in a flood of tears, muffled against the warmth of her brother’s chest. She rarely showed affection, her mother constantly frowning upon it stating it was a sign of weakness but she didn’t care, especially not now.
“Thank you Drake” she said between sobs her words muffled slightly by the fabric of his shirt.

It was an odd sensation welling within him. There was worry. Worry that Drake couldn’t always be there to protect her from the evils of the world. There was sorrow. Sorrow that a woman such as her had to face such injustice and prejudice simply for her gift of magicae. There was anger. Anger that of all the people that she could turn to, right now it seemed he was the only one to give her any form of closure. The welling energy came into him and threatened to cause an eruption of tirades and curses - but her hug sealed it all in.

“There there, Ari.” He gently patted her back while she sobbed into his chest. This was going to be a process, that was for sure. Magic was outlawed after all, and this was only the start. There were already rumors of people going around killing suspected witches and warlocks - not to mention the public execution just the other week. Fear instilled itself in his mind as the possibilities flowed forth.
He cleared his throat. “This is alot to take in. But you can confide in me in the meantime. Take time, learn about this hidden gift of yours. But don’t let it define you. You are not simply a ‘witch’. You are Ariella Edwards.”

Pulling back from Drake chest she wiped the tears from her eyes.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Farim

Location: Castle Dining Hall
Time: Evening of the 28th

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Farim getting dressed

The night was mentally eventful for Farim. The thrill of the performances and the mental pacing that took place after his questionably fortuitous meeting with Count Fritz were enough to make his hair turn grey at the roots.

But now it was time for some new trials. This royal banquet is full of several faces, old and new to Farim. Most of the attendees he had some familiarity with, but the thought of some new faces in this political quasi-romantic landscape did present some interesting opportunities.

Standing in his bedroom in nothing but his smallclothes, he took a look at the foldable wardrobe with all his latest choices in outfits laid out before him on neatly filed clothes hooks. Farim tapped his foot in thought while his darling avian companion happily chewed on small bits of feed left at the bottom of her cage. The door was left open so she may explore as she wished, but right now roosting in her familiar spot was her top priority.

Then he spotted it - a familiar garb that he wore when he was feeling brazen. The deep green melding into the subtle black coloring with the typical Alidasht golden accents. It was a good blend of promiscuous yet stylish - it was exactly what Farim was looking for. He slid the form fitting silks over him and took a slight pose in front of the mirror before calling in his manservant.

”What do we think? Too much? Not enough? Give it to me honestly.” The young man looked the Shehzadi up and down before offering a quick reflection. “Perhaps with such an audience as your potential in-laws…It might be best to show just a tinge less skin? I know your body is in excellent shape - but just a simple bit of covering may come across as modest while still letting people … admire that magnificent body of yours.” The man said with a growing smirk. There was a hint of playfulness in his tone - but this was merely flattery and nothing more. Farim nodded and quickly doffed his robes to wear a loose yet form fitting black and cotton undershirt. After donning his robes once more - he appreciated the hint of mystique hidden beneath the fabrics of his clothes. ”Ever insightful as always, my good friend.” Farim flipped a coin towards the manservants way before heading to the banquet.

As those who had made their entrances already began to settle in their seats, and make their greetings. A sleek figure seemed to materialize in the shadows behind the Grand Vizier. A single hand reached over the man’s shoulder to grasp at his partially filled cup. The unseen figure’s fingers curled along the rim of the cup and picked it up to a familiar pair of lips. Farim smirked as he took a short sip from the cup and parted his lips with a light smack. The royal tilted his head in momentary thought, before gently placing the glass down with some added flair to his motions.

A sideways glance at his father would reveal a few things to Farim. Firstly, he seems to have a mixture of bravado and adrenaline - almost like he just finished a debate. Second, this incursion that he was a part of definitely gave the Grand Vizier an aura of victory - yet another one of his little conquests seemed to play his way. And finally, he was far too absorbed in his personal politics to really notice his son's approach until it was too late. That is why Farim chose to play this harmless little show of faux-dominance over Hafiz. Almost as if to say, “What is yours is just as easily taken by me.”

”My my, father. You have quite the taste. I must commend the sommeliers for their selection but you have a keen eye as always.” A fake tone of approval in his voice, Farim slid his hand back to remain hidden inside his sleeves, giving little to guess about his body language aside from his own facial expressions. Turning a more earnest gaze to the present company, Farim offered a bow towards Anastasia.

”Princess. I am excited to be seeing you once again. Especially after such a riveting performance. You must tell me more of your art.” An immediate patter of wings signaled the emergence of the ever-present Thara, ready to introduce her glorious self to the patrons of the feast. She turned her head around and stopped at Anastasia, offering her feathery head towards her as if to say “I want this one to pet me, and no one else”.

Farim smiled earnestly. ”Thara says hi as well.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Farim

Location: Edin Theater
Time: Morning of the 28th
Mentions: Kazumin@samreaper, Drake, Lorenzo@FunnyGuy, and Anastasia@princess

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Drake

Here was a regal looking gentleman. One who was determined to put on a show. This part of the show was to be an act in three parts it would seem. The first one an upbeat show of determination and hopefulness. It seemed as if the man wanted to speak through the music. He spoke about dreams realized, hopes reached, and promises kept. The positive energy was yet another good start to the act, but Farim wondered just how it would turn on its lid based on the way Drake spoke. Yet despite this forbearing thought, Farim caught himself bouncing to the music. How infectious! He thought to himself.

Then the second piece played - and Farim paused in his fears. The tonal shift was there, but it felt somber and subtle. It was like he felt himself beginning to pan through his thoughts, his memories, and a newfound appreciation for what he had seen and done flooded forth. Farim’s mind went back to the sands of his home - the beautiful cities that could be seen for miles along the horizon no matter which direction you came from. He thought of his dreams, and what he had done to achieve them thus far, and what was to come. Farim appreciated the brief peace that came with this song, and found himself jolted back to reality as the final act began. The first word to come to mind was hope. A shining ray of emotion that made him feel like he could conquer most, if not any challenges.

Whoever this Drake person was, Farim was fond of their performance and the vast emotional palette he shared with the audience. He offered a firm enthusiastic clap as the performance reached its finale.

Kazumin

Farim made his way into the crowd, with a few hushed gasps and excited gestures from the audience. He quickly appeased their excitement and moved to sit in an appropriate seat to give him a proper view of the stage. He could have witnessed such things from the side of the stage - but that would have removed a layer of showmanship that he would appreciate. As he sat down, the murmurs died down and people’s restless behavior settled before the performance of what he assumed to be a commoner amongst the performers - not that Farim minded. Brilliance could come from anywhere after all, so he watched with anticipation as the scene unfolded to the lifeless puppet.

The jubilee and candor taking place between the girl and the puppet put a smile to his face. It was nice that things were going well in this play, the way the puppet showed such life and enthusiasm made him almost forget the tale of the “fake boy” who showed “real feelings”. There was however, a slight sense of unease building as the play took a more sinister turn. Farim felt a sensation in the back of his neck as the boy bumped into the girl, turning what was a joyful shared moment between them into one of fear and separation. What started out as a friendly child-like tale of friendship had morphed into the tale of how easily some bridges burn. How quickly some friendships fade. The slightest stress causing those bonds to snap like a cord pushed beyond its limit.

Farim nodded in solemn appreciation for the tale the young man shared - quickly doused by Edin’s overenthusiastic proclamation of “owning him”. To keep up appearances he kept his reaction neutral, but he found it rather distasteful. Can’t a man simply practice his art without people immediately laying claim to his craftsmanship? For this man's sake, Farim hoped it would not result in him being bought like property.

Lorenzo

Now here is an interesting participant. Farim thought. The duke had a reputation for causing chaos and bewilderment wherever he strode - so Farim smirked as the possibilities played in his head. The mans words danced around the stage until there was one particular phrase that made the Shehzade stop in his mental tracks. P….pigeon? Surely I misheard… Farim shouted mentally. A few protesting coos from Thara confirmed that Lorenzo really did just call his dear companion and pet “a pigeon”. Farim knew better than to cause a scene, but the he and Thara both shot cold glares at him - if he dared look their way.

The glare softened as he heard a supportive voice from among the crowd. Farim smiled, thinking that perhaps she would damage control the silly taunts of Duke Lorenzo. Then he decided to just shout for Anastasia like he was summoning any other woman around. Is this guy serious? Why on earth would she- And she is actually going up there. There was a pause in his thoughts - and finally the cold stare broke into a grin and chuckle. The absurdity of it all was enough to make him quietly laugh. At least she is having a good time.

Now for the actual talent act…The mood, the atmosphere, and the words shared began to blend into a single moment of passion. Such visceral emotion was something he did not expect from the Duke. Talks of love - of the things one would do. It made him contemplate….reflect…and even ponder. The normally outwardly goofy man made lyrical strides that danced around his mind’s eye. This was not just the musings of a man who had thought about love. It was experience and past coming together to mull over the deeds of man lost in himself.

Was this the real Lorenzo? Everything else simply a front to hide his own past? Farim could only wonder as the poem ended, and he offered slow but thoughtful applause for the man who just moments ago had gotten the entire crowd all riled up only to have them sit in silent appreciation.

Anastasia

This was the entire reason he had come to this event in the first place - why he even signed up to headline the show of talents from around the globe. Well, there was a bit of national pride and hoping to show the people from afar the glory of his nation - but the woman on stage was, as the duke aptly put, his muse in a sense. He was rather excited to see her talents on center stage, with only a taste of her stringwork in the piece before.

Tonight’s change of heart performance began softly, easing its way into his ears as the Princess carried the speech of her long lost friend into the lonely air. His mind flashes once again back to that time long ago. The eyes of his long lost friend, panning out to see that optimistic light fade. The image of this trauma blew away like sand against the wind as the scene shifted to the stable hand who, just a few days ago, was alive. Full of energy. Hope. Dreams. Perhaps dreams they shared - or at least dreams Farim could condone. The scene in his head shifts once more, to a bright caring face full of love. One that nurtured him from a growing boy into the optimistic young man that travelled the world in hope of finding peace for his home. The same vision Farim had seen in the woods, of his mother painted in the visage of a passing spirit. She too, was another soul who may very well have met her fate far too early. Another painful yet necessary memory he would cling onto.

A tear rolled along his cheek at the thought. Deaths like theirs was a curse for the living. A beautiful curse that some wore well, and others let degrade them to their core. There were many there who likely felt the weight of Annie’s story. If it was not Darryn. It was some other nameless face that to everyone else seemed like nothing more than a name to be spoken in hushed words. But to that person, it was the entire world. The notes that cried out into the theater were not just a requiem to those long past, but a cry to not let their memory fade. The notes were full of want, of dreams that could have been - and each one faded away against his ear drums like the lives of people who pass on every single day.

The song ended, and a quick wipe of his tears was warranted before he stood up and offered a firm clapping to echo the one he heard from where her family was seated. Farim’s gaze stayed locked on the woman who just bared it all in front of everyone - much like those who had come before her. Perhaps next time he would do something similar. But this was a dream for another time - his thoughts and prayers stayed focused on the names of those who had passed and had not yet been forgotten.

May their memory persist. Like all other blessings in life.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

FLASHBACK!!

Sola 27, 1739 – Guest House

A soft knock echoed through Shehzade Farim’s chambers early that morning. Standing at the door was Lady Miha, dressed in a simple yet elegant burnt orange saree. A bright blue bindi adorned her forehead while intricate traditional henna designs swirled across her hands. Balanced in her palms was a golden tray, and at its center, a maroon-red envelope sealed with gold wax and their family crest.
When Farim opened the door, Lady Miha greeted him with a bow, reciting their native greeting in a smooth, practiced cadence. After he accepted the envelope, she bowed again, offering the customary farewells before hurrying back down the corridor toward Nahir’s chambers, ready to assist the Shehzadi in her preparations for the day.


_{Farim,
Good morning, dear cousin. I hope this letter finds you well. I’ve arranged for us to meet for tea at the Jasmin Nook Tea Room this morning. There are a few matters we must discuss, and it is best we do so without delay. I’ll await your arrival in two hours. It will be a good chance for us to catch up and talk.
Looking forward to it.
Nahir}

Sola 27, 1739 – Jasmin Nook Tea Room

Sunlight poured in through floor-to-ceiling windows, the morning light filtered by cascading vines of vibrant green, their white blooms a contrast against the glossy leaves. The windows framed the room, offering a serene view of the gardens beyond. Inside, the space was bathed in golden light, highlighting walls adorned with framed portraits of landscapes and figures dressed in intricate, high fashion. Potted plants sat perched on shelves and corners, bringing a touch of nature to the luxurious interior.

At the heart of the tea room, a grand piano gleamed beneath the light, its black lacquer finish polished to perfection. A man dressed in black tails, with slicked-back hair and an angelic, expressionless face, played softly. His fingers danced over the ivory keys, filling the air with a serene, classical melody.

Nahir sat in a lush chair near one of the large windows, dressed in a maroon saree edged with delicate gold embroidery. Matching golden bangles adorned her wrists, and bright red henna swirled across her hands. Her hair had been carefully curled and pinned up, with a few loose tendrils framing her face, also sporting golden clips.

Beside her on a small table rested a half-drunk cup of tea, the steam still rising lazily from its surface. In her lap lay a book titled The Incredible Adventures of Kalpana Chawla., its pages slightly worn from frequent reading. Nahir’s expression was calm, her golden gaze fixated on the man playing the grand piano.

At the entrance to the tea room, a shadow that quickly blended into the figure of Farim Kadir came into view. This morning he forewent the usual casual wear that he would partake in, knowing that such a place required something more refined. Atop his head was a soft-red and tightly wrapped satin cloth turban, with a single ruby adorning the front. A glorious fiery red feather was tucked just to the side of the gem. The flowing robes that flickered behind him were calmer colors, a gentle cream-like color to be easier on the eyes compared to the potent reds of his headdress. His hands were behind his back as he strode towards the table Nahir sat at.

_{note: words italicized and with quotes are spoken in Alidasht’s Golden Tongue}

“Good to see you, cousin. Ever the proficient choice in our meeting place. I do hope my attire is up to par with your radiant self.” He smiled and moved to take a seat.

Nahir’s lips curved into a subtle smile as Farim approached, her golden eyes briefly taking in the fiery red feather stuck on his turban. She offered him a light nod of approval as he took his seat. “Good morning, cousin.” she replied smoothly, switching seamlessly to their native tongue. “You honor me with your presence, and your attire does not disappoint. You look every bit the Shehzade you are.” She reached for her cup, her fingers steady as she took a small sip and a waiter came in and placed a filled tea cup and saucer. ”The tea here seems to lack in flavor. She commented as she set her cup back down.

”How have you been finding Caesonia so far?” Her words were gentle, almost testing, but the faintest flicker of something more urgent glimmered in her eyes. ”So far, it seems like you’ve been enjoying Sorian and it’s splendors.”

A grin came across his face at the compliment Nahir paid him, which continued into his pleasant demeanor as he waved his hand in the air. As if to physically showcase the erroneous nature of his stay thus far. “It is just about as intriguing as I would have hoped. There are many a treasures here to uncover - some political, some personal, and some of a whole other persuasion.” He let the words hang in the air as he reached for the nearby cup and kettle to pour himself a cup of this “bland” tea his cousin had casually disregarded. A quick and purposeful sip and it is just as she spoke of, a rather calm blend of herbs that left little to be desired after it passed beyond his tongue.

“Bit of a shame the tea is this…ordinary. Unlike your stay here, I imagine?” Farim grinned mischievously. “What kind of trouble has the Golden Beauty of the Sands found herself in since arriving here, I wonder? Already have a Prince in your clutches? Or perhaps a few ladies-in-waiting to … tend to?” He spoke boldly, knowing only the two of them would really understand the main body of their conversation. Yet in spite of the secrecy of the topic, the man spoke earnestly. If anything, he was merely teasing his cousin with what he had believed were mere rumors and heresy - if only to see how she would react to such claims.

”Golden Beauty of the Sands,” she mused, letting the title roll off her tongue with exaggerated elegance. She leaned back in her chair, swirling the remnants of her tea as though pondering his words before laughter broke her neutral expression. Like a chime of a bell carried on the desert breeze. ”Flattering, but you should know better, cousin. I don’t trap anyone in my clutches—they come willingly.” The image of a certain curly-haired woman came into mind as she said that.

”Though,” Nahir mused, ”I can’t say the same for everyone. The Prince, for instance. He is lovely company, but I cannot help but feel that there is… a certain lack of interest. Perhaps his tastes lie elsewhere.” She shrugged, her expression feigning innocence as she picked up her teacup and sipped her tea.

”But let’s not talk about me. I saw how you handled the princess during that lordling’s name day. The Prince didn’t seem too keen on it. I do hope the earful you got was worth it.” She arched her brow at him, a smirk returning to her features. ”How do you think she would handle Alidasht?” Nahir’s tone remained light, but there was a glint in her eyes—sharp and knowing. ”Our royal court is not like Caesonia’s. We may share the grand balls and polite alliances, the daggers behind smiles and whispers in the dark—but there— back home… You’ve seen it, cousin. We’ve lived it. We know what it takes to survive. Do you think she would thrive in such a world?” Nahir needed to know if Farim was really aware of the dangers of bringing a princess like Anastasia back home. The girl wasn’t the brightest— nor the sharpest. ”And if you are truly considering the sultan’s seat, there’s more to think about than her title and pretty smile. Could she endure being more than a wife? Could she bear sharing you with the concubines the court would insist upon?” She set her teacup down, the soft clink filling the momentary silence as the piano player flipped through the music sheets to a new song.

Farim placed his teacup down. What was a pleasant expression had transformed into one of concern - as if contemplative thought began to wrap around his mind. He took a nearby stirring rod and absent-mindedly ran it in circles within his tea - a mild facilitation to organize the thoughts that ran around in his mind before addressing his cousins well-placed statements. ”Ours is a cruel world is it not? You know I spoke to my father last night? For the first time in ages. I have suspected him of many a nefarious deed - and finally sought to confront him. Instead of a bitter back and forth about one ideal versus the other, I was instead met with calmness and reassurance that it is all in my best interests.” The man shuddered as he cast a sideways glance to the nearby window. ”I am afraid I know far too well the cruelty our homeland is capable of - that man is one of the cornerstones of it. But he was not the first, nor do I suspect he will be the last, to continue the legacy of malevolent royalty.”

Farim stopped stirring, and turned his head towards his cousin and leaned his elbow onto the table. His jaw rested comfortably against his palm while he spoke, yet his eyes seemed to stare beyond Nahir’s physical form. As if to scope something beyond just her physical reaction. ”Allow me to break it down for you, if you would indulge me. Firstly, why is it you seek the throne? Is it fame? Notoriety? To continue the legacy of your Father…my Uncle?” A brief pause ensued as he lifted the teacup to his lips for a slow sip of the still warm tea. ”If I may speak plainly for a moment. My goal is to change the nation. Something that is not done in a day, week, year, or even a lifetime. But I seek to usher the tides of change. One where you and I do not have to worry if those we hold close will make it to next week. A nation that thrives on community and the enrichment that everyone can provide. Is it not the ways of our gods to bless all who walk their path? So too, must we grant such blessings.”

Setting the teacup backdown, Farim shifted his posture and moved from his hand, which now twirled and gestured as he spoke - mirroring his own growing enthusiasm in the moment. ”All of this is idealistic thinking of course. No nation is perfect. But there are ways we could be better! Ways that we could improve and thrive for the benefit of all who are under the Sun Gods radiance!” Taking a breath, Farim circled the conversation back to the original question. ”You say the princess is more than just a title and a smile. You are right about this. For I see in her the hope that I see in myself - to make things better beyond just the veil of parties and balls. I saw the way she stood up for the common stableboy - the one who was found murdered merely hours later. I have even seen the way it has affected her. That is not a woman who simply lives for the thrill, even if she uses it to escape her current woes. She has a kind heart - something I do not think I have seen for quite some time. So you could say I am a bit sentimental when it comes to her.”

The man pointed at Nahir, a smirk on his face. One that was not gauding or taunting, but of confidence. ”I imagine anyone who messes with anyone that I am close with - is willing to deal with someone who shares the blood of a man as foul as the Grand Vizier. Anyone who tests this is either a fool, or has a death wish. Neither of which will live to see the day they take anyone else close from me. I refuse to lose anymore of my loved ones.” He bit his lip, stifling his rage for a moment before exhaling slowly. It was as if he pushed his momentary frustration out through his lungs. ”Apologies. I try not to get too heated but I cannot help myself. I believe before my rant I had asked you what you planned to do should you succeed the throne?”

”You speak with such passion, cousin,” Nahir said softly, her golden gaze fixed on Farim. The fire behind his words lingered in her mind—how deeply his father’s cruelty had carved into him, much it had like to her—a shared wound they both carried. ”And for that, I commend you. I know well the weight of the burdens you speak of. The cruelty of men in power. The fires that consume more than just bodies, but entire bloodlines and futures. Her voice grew quieter, more measured as if confessing to the ghosts lingering in the room. ”Yoy remember my brothers, don’t you? You grew alongside them. Their deaths were ruled accidents, yet I’ve never believed that fire was anything but deliberate. That is the world we come from, Farim. A place where ambition is met with ‘misfortune’ and any dissent is silence in smoke and ash.”

Flashbacks ran through the Shehzade’s mind. Reflections of memories long passed played in his mind’s eye in rapid succession. The flames that rose high above the buildings, the blanket of smoke that choked the very sky, and the aching loss of his cousins. Farim had never had the thought to put two and two together like this, but the thinning of his Uncle’s progenies….could it really his father’s doing?
She paused, pouring more of that mild tea into her cup before her eyes returned to him. Sharp. Critical. ”So forgive me if I take offense to your assumption that I seek the throne for something as trivial as fame or legacy.” Her eyes softened. ”But I cannot blame you for thinking it.” Nahir had always been distant from the rest of the family. The spirited little girl who once trailed her brothers’ every step had vanished, leaving only a shadow of herself—silent, distant, and untouchable. She grew into a woman who sought solace in fleeting desires and the hollow warmth of superficial passions. Nahir was tired of it. ”I’ve learned to keep my true desires close to my heart, or even whispers in Alidasht can be dangerous. I will not see my fate mirror theirs.”

Nahir leaned forward slightly, her tone firm and steady. ”You call me Golden Beauty, but you know better than most how sharp gold must become to survive.” She held his gaze, the weight of her next words filling the space between them. ”I want what you want—a better Alidasht. One that thrives, one that lifts and inspires its people instead of crushing them. But I am no idealist, Farim. You are right: change will not come in a year, or a decade. It will not come with ideas alone. The men and women who hold power back home—they hunger. For more gold, more power, more control. Draining the sands and jungles and everything they can until nothing is left for the people. It is a struggle as old as time, and ideas will not win against greed without force.” She reclined back in her seat, allowing him to absorb her words before continuing.

He sighed, and took the time to gather his thoughts amidst her descriptive tapestry that told the story of their homeland. “It would seem ours is a history of conflict and strife to achieve what we want for our people. Such is the price, and such is our duty.”

”Perhaps we should not tear one another down in our pursuit of this vision.” A faint, sly smile crept into her lips. ”If we seek the throne, let us promise this: whoever succeeds, the other will stand as an ally. Change cannot begin on foundations built from betrayal and bloodshed. We will be no better than those we wish to replace.” She sipped her tea, her nose scrunching up as the hot liquid touched her tongue.

Farim leaned back into his chair, a smile on his face that was ripe with satisfaction. “If the Fates would have you lead our people - then someone is going to need to keep the Viper busy. What better person than his own son? Figuratively speaking, of course.” He grinned, with all the mischief in his voice practically dripping as he thought of ways he could usurp the role of Grand Vizier if need be. He composed himself, yet kept his relaxed posture in his seat. “Your words lift a weight off my shoulders and my heart, Nahir. Should you become the new Sultan, you will have enough coin to fill a thousand vaults and still have some to claim whatever your heart desires.” He gently waved his cup in circles before taking another long sip of his tea, and exhaled softly.

Placing the cup down, she continued, her tone softening ever so slightly. “And as for the princess... you must prepare her, Farim. Alidasht is no fairytale kingdom, and if she is to face what lies ahead, she will need the will of an iron sword. It will test her—break her, even—if she’s not ready.” Nahir’s golden gaze flickered with a rare hint of warmth, and she exhaled a quiet laugh, as though amused by her own thoughts. “Though I must admit, she may be growing on me. There’s a fire in her, small as it is now, and I find myself curious to see if it will burn bright enough to endure.”

She leaned back, fingers trailing idly along the rim of her cup, her expression unreadable yet tinged with something almost... hopeful. “But that, cousin, is for her to prove—and for you to nurture.”

“It almost seems too good to be true, my cousin.” Farim’s voice lowered, a long pause sticking between the words he just spoke and what was to follow. “I was truthfully concerned about how our rivalry would affect us - who we are. It feels like we are the last ones who have a chance in this cruel game of politics. To clash against one another felt wrong. Foolish even.” He clacked his cup onto the table and retrieved a nearby spoon to idly stir while he resumed talking. “That woman is like a diamond in the rough. Even while being crushed by the weight of what is around her - she still shines beautifully with a luster that would make our elders jealous.” Farim laughed and laughed, his chuckling almost drawing some extra attention their way before he settled down.

“I suppose that would make us a team then? At least in some unofficial capacity.” He raised his cup towards Nahir with the intentions of gently clinking their cups together. “To better times, and to a better Alidasht.”
For a moment, her gaze lingered on her cousin, the smirk fading into something softer, more reflective. Nahir’s lips curved into a smile as she leaned forward, her golden bangles chiming softly with the movement. “To better times,” she echoed, lifting her cup to meet Farim’s in a delicate clink, the faint sound sealing their agreement. “And to an Alidasht we can both be proud of.”

For a moment, her gaze lingered on her cousin, the smirk fading into something softer, more reflective. Nahir’s lips curved into a smile as she leaned forward, her golden bangles chiming softly with the movement. “To better times,” she echoed, lifting her cup to meet Farim’s in a delicate clink, the faint sound sealing their agreement. “And to an Alidasht we can both be proud of.”