princess

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

????

_{Interaction: @Redking0380 Fareed @HylianRose Nik
Mention:@CitrusArms Stratya @FunnyGuy Lorenzo @Oso Ambrose}

---

The man’s hand remained held out for just a moment after Stratya left him there.

His smile did not vanish immediately. It simply stayed in place, while his fingers slowly folded back into his palm. His green eyes followed her across the ballroom as she moved away from him and toward Ambrose.

She had refused him.

Worse, she had refused him as though he were something that could be dismissed.

Nik’s voice reached him first.

“Bold strategy. How often does it fail this spectacularly?”

The man turned his head toward Nik slowly. His eyes held on him for a moment calmly. Then his mouth curved again, though there was nothing pleasant in it now. “Mockery is a poor substitute for courage.”

His attention shifted then to Fareed, finally acknowledging the towering Alidasht man as if he had only just become worth noticing. “I should ask the same thing of you, is this truly how you try to flirt? Please tell me this is not some culture shock between us? I thought myself well versed, but if all the men here are this rude then my sisters might end up with more crimes the suitors!”

A low scoff left the man’s throat.

“Flirt?” he repeated, as if the word itself offended him. “No. Flirting is for boys and drunkards. I offered the Captain a courtesy she was too proud to understand.”

His gaze drifted back to Stratya. She had reached Ambrose now, and the sight clearly did not improve his mood.

“But pride has a way of correcting itself.”

He did not look at Fareed or Nik when he said it. His attention stayed fixed across the room.

For now, he let her walk away. He let her smile at another man. He let her take a dance as though she had won something by leaving him behind. Still, his jaw set as he watched her, and the look in his eyes became colder by degrees.

In his mind, Stratya Durmand was not free of him. She was merely delaying what he had already decided must happen. A woman like that did not belong in command. She did not belong in the guard. The late Queen’s favor, or tolerance, or whatever weakness had allowed it, was gone now. Without Alibeth, there would be fewer shields between Stratya and the men who knew better than to mistake defiance for virtue.

His eyes shifted toward the royal side of the room, searching for King Edin.

That would be the proper course. There were questions around Lancaster, around her father, around the sort of woman who walked out of a sorcerer’s ruin and into a promotion. I

Then his gaze found the king speaking with Duke Lorenzo Vikena.

His expression soured.

Lorenzo.

The man’s eyes narrowed with open distaste. There stood another error.

A weak man. A stained man. An unholy little embarrassment given space where worthier men should have stood.

So he waited.

Across the room, Stratya moved through the dance with Ambrose, and the man in black watched her as if the matter had not ended at all.

It had only begun.

With a dark chuckle to himself, he began walking away from the two men without another word, slithering through the ballroom like a snake.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

_{Interaction: @Remram Askel @AuthenticTomb Aslam @Tae Ranya @Infinite Cosmos Munir}

Hafiz did not drink yet.

He allowed the glass to remain raised while Munir made his little entrance, all noise as per usual. The boy thought himself clever for dragging the Sultan’s name into the circle. Perhaps he was. It forced dignity over the conversation, forced witnesses into the shape of celebration, forced Hafiz to answer as uncle and servant of the crown rather than as the man Askel had just dared to provoke.

Then Askel spoke, and Hafiz’s attention returned to him with dreadful patience.

He listened to the prince’s Gazalian without interruption. He listened to the insults, the talk of fear, the men named Hafiz, the blades, the hearts, the accusation that he had blinked before Raif. By the end of it, Hafiz knew exactly what he needed to know.

For a moment, Hafiz’s pleasant expression dissipated. There was no smile left on his face, no false gentleness, no warm amusement. Only his eyes remained alive, shining beneath the chandelier light with contained rage, like a forest fire burning deep beyond the trees—far from the closest village, controlled for now, but inevitable all the same.

When he smiled again, it was slower than before.

“You speak Gazalian beautifully, Prince Askel,” he told him gently. “That is wise. A man should always learn the language of the places where he intends to leave pieces of himself behind.”

His voice remained soft enough for the prince alone to hear.

“You are very proud of your temper. I imagine it has worked rather well for you in rooms where men mistake a steady voice for a steady hand.”

Hafiz’s gaze moved over him once more, colder now. “But no matter. You answered me plainly enough.”

He leaned closer, not enough to make a spectacle, only enough to make the next words belong to Askel. “You should have made yourself boring.”

His smile held despite his words.

Then Aslam spoke, and Hafiz turned to him slowly.

Munir had brought the noise, and Aslam had brought the witnesses.

_{Friends closer together. New ones discovered. Courage to find that special someone free from pressure. Loud enough for nearby ears.}

Hafiz looked at his nephew for a long moment.“Beautifully said, Shehzade.”

At last, Hafiz lifted his goblet fully. “To the Sultan. May his reign endure.”

His eyes moved to Munir.

“To his sons, who are so eager tonight to prove the strength of his line.”

Then to Aslam. “To new connections, freely chosen.” Finally, his gaze settled on Askel as his voice grew loud enough to travel throughout the room and over the cacophony of the ball.

“And to my niece, Shehzadi Ranya, and Prince Askel of Varian!”

His smile widened, but there was nothing kind in it.

“May their affection prosper beneath all the attention it has earned.”

Then Hafiz drank. He finished the goblet calmly, lowered it, and looked between the three young men with a grin that finally showed too much of himself.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

His eyes lingered on Askel one last time. “I certainly will.”

Then he inclined his head with perfect courtesy and left them.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

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.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

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.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

_{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.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

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.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

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.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

????

_{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.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

_{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.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

_{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.