Rodiak

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

_{outfit ♘}

_{C A S T L E D I N N I N G H A L L | E V E N I N G
I n t e r a c t i o n s : Torvi @Tae
M e n t i o n s :}

Mathias smiled nervously under the sharp, glacial gaze of the silver-haired woman. “I must apologize,” he said, glancing briefly at her name tag. “Miss Jur-Jorviksdottir. I fear I may have already eaten one, and the other…”

His voice trailed off. He’d taken the second pastry in quiet memory of his late wife, but that was a sentiment better left unspoken here and now. Instead, he offered a sheepish smile. “I’m halfway through. But I’d be glad to offer my non-servant services and fetch a replacement, for both of you, if you’d like.”

At that moment, Lady Lesdeman rose without a word and left their taBLE, leaving behind her untouched mead. One by one, others around the table began to drift away as well. Mathias blinked, belatedly realizing just how late his arrival had been. Whether that was a blessing or a curse, he wasn’t quite sure.

His eyes brightened when another knight, clearly about to offer him a drink, opened her mouth to speak, but the moment passed before she could get the words out. Mathias's gaze flicked back to the mead. Would Lady Lesdeman mind if he stole it?

Then came the yelp.

The sound cut through the air, followed by a flurry of motion. Mathias watched the Grand Vizier all but slap a dog from his person. The knight cringed, his mouth tightening as he spotted Stratya rising from her seat and moving toward the man with purpose.

“It says much about a man, how he treats animals,” Mathias said, more to himself than anyone else, though Torvi was near enough to hear. His voice held a quiet bitterness. “Innocent creatures deserve better.” He hesitated, then added, “Not that I’ve heard many kind things about him, frankly.”

He wasn’t the sort to speak ill of nobles, he knew well enough that halls like these had ears, but some things deserved to be said, caution be damned.

“Are Caesonian banquets always this lively?” he mused aloud, his eyes drifting once more to the abandoned glass of mead.

“She wouldn’t mind, would she?”

He didn’t wait for an answer.

Standing, Mathias leaned across the table and retrieved the drink, fingers curling around the cool glass. But just as he lowered himself back into his chair, the hall fell into an abrupt, unnatural hush.

He froze mid-motion.

The atmosphere had shifted. He could feel it pressing against his skin.

Slowly, Mathias lifted his gaze toward the source of the silence. His posture straightened, and his expression hardened, brows furrowed, jaw tight, every sense alert. Everything of what he saw felt wrong.

“Miss Jorviksdottir,” he said quietly, eyes not leaving the growing tension across the hall, “I think this banquet has just come to an official end.”

He raised the glass and drained it in one go. Whatever was coming, he’d prefer to meet it with a buzz warming the edges of his mind.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

_{dress ♛ crown ♛}

_{C A S T L E D I N N I N G H A L L | E V E N I N G
I n t e r a c t i o n s :
Hafiz @princess , Kira @Potter
M e n t i o n s :
Hala's Stinky Dog}

“You couldn’t even protect Kahrem…You flail for attention like a drunk on stage and call it diplomacy… You’re not your mother, Nahir. And gods know, you’ll never be me.”

A piece of duck slipped from the napkin she held in her hand and landed with a soft smack against Hafiz’s shoes. Grease smeared down the embroidered designs and expensive fabrics.

Nahir didn’t blink. Not yet. But the silence that followed his words cut deeper than any scream.

Her mouth parted, just barely. Not in protest, no, never that and not so openly, but as though his words had carved something clean out of her. The flicker of surprise that crossed her features was raw, real, and momentary—a practiced beat of vulnerability.

Then, just as quickly, buried.

“Grrand Vizir Hafiz Kadirr!...we have laws against tha’ sorr’ of disgusting conduct in our lands. You WILL NAE strrike yours orr any otherr pets within ourr borrders.”

Nahir’s hands trembled. At any other time, she may have cursed them, but right now, she could not have asked for a better time for it to manifest. She tried to fold the linen napkin over itself, corner against corner, but failed to do so.

A woman scorned, like a child put in her place after being scolded for sneaking a dessert before dinner. That is what she was right now. And the outcome of Hafiz’s rage against her was nothing short of what she expected from her dear uncle, now the Grand Viz-hole. She did, however, feel bad for poor Nadim. She wondered what Hala would do when she found out Nadim had been struck by Hafiz, what would she say to Nahir?

Lady Miha would send over a basket with enough treats and toys for Nadim that would last him a week.

”Her, disgrace you?”

Nahir bit her tongue. Kira, stop.

“Nahir is ten times the person you will ever be,”

She wasn’t wrong. Hafiz was a spoiled brat in a man's body. A brat that needed to learn his place. A mere man angry at the world for always coming in second. His insecurities hidden under cruelty disguised as power.

Pathetic.

Her shoulders began to shake.

A quiver, soft and almost imperceptible, like the beginning of tears.

Let him believe it was fear. Let him think he had broken something in her.

The burn behind her eyes and the tightness in her throat could pass for humiliation or shame. It would please him. It would feed that sick, cruel part of him Nahir knew was there, the one that had bubbled to the surface. It would make him feel powerful. Her lashes were lowered, her gaze hidden.

Kira went on, and the more she went on, the more Nahir wanted to cover her mouth. Keep her as “this season’s entertainment”, but it was too late now. She had spoken and taken his attention. And now, with a few words to her defense, Kira was another light Hafiz would have the need to snuff out. Another piece to use against Nahir.

A servant came along as Kira offered to leave the hall.

Nahir looked up at Hafiz. She allowed a small slip, a tiny minuscule flash of rage in her eyes as they met.

“I need a moment,” she began to say, shaky hand reaching for Kira’s—

Then, everything went quiet. Cold. Still.

Golden gaze shifted to the man in the middle of the room, but her eyes followed the chain he held. It was like she forgot to breathe when Nahir saw the girl standing there.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

_{dress ♛ crown ♛}

_{C A S T L E D I N N I N G H A L L | E V E N I N G
I n t e r a c t i o n s :
Farim @Lava Alckon , Anastasia @princess , Rohit @Helo , Kira @Potter, Nadim @JJ Doe
M e n t i o n s :
Hala's Stinky Dog}

Nahir’s fingers twitched around her wine glass, but she gave no other reaction to her uncle’s words. You know nothing about me, Uncle. The thought burned in her throat, but she simply raised the glass to her lips and sipped the rich red liquid. She had lost more than he would ever care to know. Two brothers she’d looked up to, followed like she was their little duckling, two lights snuffed out by his hands. How many more brothers had he taken? How many more would he take?

From the corner of her eyes, she watched him. Her stomach dropped when his gaze lingered on Kira a second too long. Kira was clever. She had to sense the danger coiled beneath Hafiz’s words, his glances, his thoughts. Still, Nahir couldn’t stop the churn in her gut.

She caught the look from Farim, but didn’t return it. He was something of a visionary; she admired that his father had not yet managed to crush that out of him. Hope had its uses, after all. It could keep the people’s spirits alive just long enough to get the real work done. And for that, blood would have to spill.

A thrill sparked in her chest. She couldn’t help but feel excited for it.

“My Gods, your father sounds dreadfully boring.”

Nahir bit her tongue, caught off guard. She swallowed a laugh behind her wineglass. Anastasia was becoming increasingly delightful.

“Indeed.” She smiled, eyes glinting with amusement. “I’ve seen statues with more rhythm. Perhaps that is why he’s so often seated. Gravity and grace are rarely friends.”

In the end, Nahir agreed to join their little party, not purely out of generosity but out of spite. Hafiz’s displeasure alone made it worth it. She even offered some of her own coin. Perhaps she’d even play an instrument for the poor, grace them with real royalty.

She watched Hafiz closely, his attention stolen by someone far off. The twitch of his jaw. The cold amusement. The way he looked at the woman, not like a person, but a possession. A toy he had discarded, now unwilling to see it in another’s hands. It made her skin crawl. Disgust bubbled in the pit of her stomach.

Nahir had to speak with that woman. Why did he look at her that way? How did they know each other?

She took another long sip of wine, praying the alcohol would dull the buzzing questions and dark imagining storming in her mind.

And then, as if the night hadn’t already taken enough strange turns, the center of the hall seized the crown for drama.

Nahir’s golden gaze darted between two scenes, Leo’s sister and Duchess Edwards in one corner, Lord Ravenwood and the Damien bastard in another. It seemed Varian’s mandatory attendance had brought a sour wind to Caesonia’s banquet. Then again, what royal gathering was complete without a duel or a scandal or two?

She smirked into her glass as Queen Alibeth stood, commanding silence not with words, but by the sheer act of rising. What a woman, Nahir thought.

A hush fell over the hall like a creeping mist. But in Caesoni, nothing stayed quiet for long.

”You look absolutely stunning tonight. I do appreciate your generous invite here. Thank you.”

Nahir turned, smiling easily. Her earrings chimed like wind chimes in a summer breeze as she inclined her head.

“I am glad you came. Or else you’d have missed tonight’s theatrics. It almost—”

_CRASH!

Duck, pork, and ribs went flying as a dog leapt onto the table between them. Her wine glass shattered on the floor as Nadim planted both massive paws on her shoulders, nearly toppling her. She swallowed the shriek bubbling in her throat and braced herself on the chair, which, by some miracle, held both her and the beast.

Then came the licking. Slobbery, relentless licking.

“Nadim, down!” she barked, but the dog was undeterred, happily nibbling her cheeks as though they were lifelong friends.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted them.

Hala. With that pathetic little wiggle-wave.

You. Bitch.

The shriek burst out of her as she shoved Nadim, all of Nadim, onto Hafiz. The dog’s paws landed squarely on his plate, sending wine, food, and sweets splattering across his regal robes. She was fairly certain everyone in their vicinity had been caught in the splash zone, but those were casualties she was willing to sacrifice for this.

Nahir gasped dramatically, hands flying to her mouth as she leapt to her feet, “Nadim, no! Bad dog. Off the table! Where did Hala go?”

She tugged at Nadim’s stuff, half-heartedly. After a few futile attempts, she called over the knights standing nearby to come and remove the dog from the table as she did her best to wipe off the food from Hafiz’s robes. “Hala should know better than to bring that thing here.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

_{dress ♖ hair ♖}

_{C A S T L E D I N N I N G H A L L | E V E N I N G
I n t e r a c t i o n s :
Torvi @Tae , Stratya @CitrusArms, Lorenzo @FunnyGuy
M e n t i o n s :}

Zarai giggled, lazy and open and entirely unbothered. “Lucky me, I’ve got a high tolerance.” She paused, letting the words settle in her own mind, then added with a dramatic sigh, “Which, in all honesty, suuuuuucks. The amount of alcohol it takes for me to catch a decent buzz? Alarming. But then again—” she lifted a finger for emphasis, “Mother did not raise a bitch who backs down.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, like she were reciting the current economic state of Sorian. Not that she had the faintest clue what that was.

The declaration sparked a sudden awareness; her throat was parched, desert-dry, and her tongue felt like sandpaper that had been baking on a rooftop in the middle of an Alidasht desert. Water. She needed water. But not just any water. No, she craved a glass of chilled, crystalline perfection, kissed gently by lemon and blessed with a single, delicate slice of cucumber. Refine hydration. Elegant refreshment.

Her gaze drifted across the table, seeking salvation. She skimmed right over the sad, neglected glass already in front of her. That? That was not water. That was an insult. That was a cucumberless crime!

Then, a distraction. Torvi. Then the knight. The Torvi again. Her eyes flicked lazily between them before catching sight of a tall blond man behind them. Dressed simply in black and white, carrying two dainty cakes.

Zarai perked up and waved. “Excuse me—”

But the man didn’t pause. He just gave a polite smile, a bow… and sat down.

She blinked, then pouted. “Aw. I thought you were a servant. I wanted a cold glass of water…” Her voice trailed off into genuine disappointment, like a child realizing they were not going to the park but the doctor’s.

Then, with a sigh, she added, “Eh. At least you’re pretty.”

The man looked up, a spoon already halfway to his mouth. “Ah, I apologize for that, Lady Zarai.” He hesitated, amused. “And I appreciate the compliment…?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled, flapping a hand like it weighed too much, already moving on.

She stood up, etiquette be damned, and wandered away from the table, mind blissfully detached from decorum and everything around her. The dog running across the hall did catch her attention, however. She watched it nearly crash into the Alidasht side of the room. She didn’t blink. Not her business. Her goal was hydration.

And then, a voice. Male. Loud. So freaking loud.

”I do not wish for Charlotte to become like one of those young Varian girls with no self-worth!”

Zarai stopped cold, turned, and spotted the source of the voice. Her eyes narrowed at the relic of an old man. Well, he was not that old, but he was now!

She pointed directly at him. “Hey! Shut it, old man. I’ll make you eat your words, pendejo! You don’t know shit!”

And just like that, she turned back around and kept walking, completely unbothered, as if she hadn’t just threatened to serve Duke Vikena a knuckle sandwich.

She frowned to herself after he left. “No mames… old man made me forget what I was doing…”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

_{outfit ♘}

_{C A S T L E D I N N I N G H A L L | E V E N I N G
I n t e r a c t i o n s :
M e n t i o n s :}

Mathias hovered near the entrance, hunching as much as his tall frame allowed. He had requested no announcement of his very late arrival. Drawing attention was the last thing he wanted. For a moment, he even considered slipping in through the servants’ door at the side of the hall, but that might have been even more conspicuous. So, when a wave of commotion swelled near the pillars, some incident involving Cassius Damien and another of a toppled couple, Mathias let out a quiet breath and stepped forward, seizing the moment.

One might assume his tardiness was due to military matters, a carriage mishap, or perhaps a diplomatic delay. The truth was far simpler; Lukas was leaving soon, and Mathias wanted to spend every last second with his son. Lord Oliver Larsen intended to begin the boy’s formal education at the end of the summer, and Mathias wished for his son to relax at home a few more weeks before the lesson began. And so, it was decided Lukas and Mary would depart to give the boy more time to relax at home.

Mathias had been so enthralled in the tea party with Lukas, Mary, Mr. Wiggles and Mrs. Morris the Lion that he had entirely forgotten about the banquet’s mandatory attendance. That was, until Mary stumbled across the invitation on the coffee table.

He’d barely had time to wash up before Mary and Lukas had laid out something for him to wear.

“Something to impress that lady friend you talked to last time,” Mary had said with a wink.

A black tailcoat and crisp white waistcoat, matched with a starched dress shirt and a proper bowtie. His trousers, dark as the coat, drank in the golden light of the chandeliers above. The only detail approaching luxury was the tiny silver adornments on his collar and the matching cufflinks at his sleeves. If this was meant to dazzle, a quick glance at the peacocks in attendance, decked in velvet and silks and gilded embroidery, made it clear; this was not it.

Which, in truth, suited him just fine.

With a flute of something bubbly in hand, Mathias made a straight line to the dessert table, wholly ignoring the main feast. He found himself wondering again why Varian’s presence had been mandatory tonight. Aside from the secret party, the one where a gaggle of young nobles were found with no memory of the night, nothing else stood out.

Ah. Never mind.

His gaze landed on Roman. Of course.

Mathias had thankfully sidestepped that entire scene. Still, he’d vouch for the man. Roman was decent, perhaps a bit off when it came to certain high-society cues, but Mathis wouldn’t judge him for that. Even after years steeped in high society, he himself still fumbled now and then. Little slips, easy enough to patch over with practiced charm.

He picked up a crème brulee, tapped through its caramelized shell with one finger, and dipped in to taste the soft custard beneath. A quiet hum escaped him. All those years of relentless education— cramming etiquette, tactics, languages, history, and math— had led to this. Not for himself, no. But for Lukas. So that one day, his son could stand in a room like this, chip up, confident. So he could enjoy all of this.

Mathias’s chest ached with quiet pride as he tilted his gaze toward the grand chandeliers above.

Karla would’ve loved this. She’d be here beside him now, half-eaten chocolate cake in hand, arm looped through his. Whispering outrageous gossip, spinning absurd little stories about the nobles around them. Guessing who was sleeping with whom. Predicting which knight or royal, or noble would cause a scene after one too many drinks.

He let out a sigh, picked up his dessert—along with another chocolate cake— and made his way toward his assigned seat. Lady Thea walked past him, and soon after Lady Ariella at her tail. He glanced over his shoulder to look at both women for a second before finally reaching his seat.

Mathias paused, briefly noting the adjustment. With a glance at the women seated around him, he smiled politely before taking his new seat without a word.

Mathias had a goal tonight: end the night with no drama. Something he had been rather lucky with. He only hoped tonight would be the same.

“Gods, these desserts are delicious.” He muttered to himself, lost in the sugary sweetness as he licked his tiny spoon clean.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

_{dress ♛ hair ♛}

_{C A S T L E D I N N I N G H A L L | E V E N I N G
I n t e r a c t i o n s :
Hafiz, Anastasia @princess , Kira @Potter , Rohit @Helo
M e n t i o n s :
Farim @Lava Alckon}

Nahir’s smile remained serene, her eyes sweeping the crowd with idle grace. She didn’t so much as glance at her uncle when she leaned in, her voice barely above a breath. There was no fear of her own body betraying her tonight, but that could not be said for Kira’s smile. Too warm. Too open.

“She’s pleasant enough,” she murmured, as if discussing the fabric swatched for a new dress. “A charming distraction for the summer. But really, Uncle—when I’m finished, you’re welcome to her.”

She took a delicate sip of her wine, as if offering him leftovers were the most natural thing in the world.

A beat passed before she added, still soft, still sweet.

“You’ve always known how to make second place look so distinguished. I’m sure this will be no exception.”

Then, as if she’d merely complimented the win, she turned her attention elsewhere, the picture of composed indifference.

“You are too kind, Anastasia.” Nahir offered a gracious nod, as if stepping down from the clouds just long enough to entertain a compliment. “I am sorry I missed your charity, it seems I missed quite the triumph.”

And then the girl went on. Charity. Goodwill. Walking amongst the poor with her golden heart bared for all to see.

Nahir smiled and said nothing. Personally distributing aid had always struck her as a convenient headline at best and patronizing at worst. The poor needed legislation, protection, reform. Not parties. Not handouts wrapped in silken bows. But she held her tongue. Princess Anastasia was not in a position to enact such change, but she could inspire it. Drive change forward. Perhaps Farim had been right about her.

Then, of course, came Rohit.

Ah, Rohit. He was pretty, she’d give him that. Beautiful, even. It almost made up for the things that left his mouth.

Nahir didn’t turn toward him, instead looked past him to the little commotion by the middle of the room as she took another sip of wine, her lashes lowering ever so slightly. Shock? Fear. Resentment. Recognition. Nahir made a mental note to speak with the red-haired woman.

“A party for the poor,” she echoed, eyes back to the table and its guests. “What a… lovely idea.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

_{dress ♖ hair ♖}

_{C A S T L E D I N N I N G H A L L | E V E N I N G
I n t e r a c t i o n s :
Torvi @Tae , Stratya @CitrusArms
M e n t i o n s :}

Zarai blinked at Torvthen twice, like the words were sinking through a sea of honey. Her grin spread slowly, like a lady and unbothered cat under the sun.

“Sweet’s not your specialty, huh?” She echoed, her voice syrupy with amusement. “That’s a shame. I was gonna offer you a peach. Or cake. Or a cookie. Damn, I want chocolate cake now.”

She took another bite of the ham, humming at its rich and delicious taste. Gods, why did everything taste so good? Had they used magic to make it taste like that?

“You do strike me more as…mmm… saffron!” She mused aloud, gaze drifting as though the thought itself had taste and smell and texture. “Expensive. Sharp. Maybe a little hard to find in the wild. And pretty, like the flower!”

She popped another bite into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully, eyes locked on Torvi like she was trying to see through her, or maybe just getting distracted by how shiny her hair was under this lighting. “Saffron with a bite. That’s you.”

Just then, her expression shifted. Zarai’s entire body paused and her expression lit up as she blinked past Torvi. Olivia, a few ways down, was waving. Zarai immediately stopped chewing, raised both sticky hands in the air, and waved back with the enthusiasm of someone who had just remembered how arms worked.

“Hi!” she said, loudly, beaming like she hadn’t just frozen an entire conversation.

Then, as if nothing had happened, she returned to Torvi. Her tone picked up exactly where she’d left off, like nothing had happened.

“I like you. You’re pretty. And you’ve got a little storm in your. Makes people interesting. You ever notice how people hold their glasses when they lie? It’s always the pinky.”

She didn’t explain further.

Instead, she held out a piece of the honeyed ham like some sort of peace offering. Or friendship offering. “You want some? It’s sweet. Might change your—”

A hearty chuckle interrupted her as a familiar-looking knight dropped into the seat beside them and began enthusiastically gathering food onto her plate. Her energy was a solid thud of reality against Zarai’s dreamy haze. She blinked, then grinned wider, delighted by the abrupt entrance.

Zarai leaned in, fascinated a she watched the knight pull at the ribs only for the bones to slide out clean. Once. Then twice.

“She’s fighting ghosts,” she whispered to Torvi with the utmost seriousness.

Zarai watched the knight’s determination win over the ribs as she finally managed to cut a portion with meat still attached. She took a bite, leaned back, and let out a satisfied noise that sounded almost divine.

Too distracted to really take note of anything else happening around her, Zarai clapped once. “That was a whole journey. Ten outta ten. Would eat vicariously again.”

Zarai turned back to her own plate in a swift move and began to eat again. Fingers digging into the meat, juices and honey coating her already sticky fingers once more. Nothing matter more than getting the last bits of ham in her mouth.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

_{dress ♛ crown ♛}

_{C A S T L E D I N N I N G H A L L | E V E N I N G
I n t e r a c t i o n s :
Farim @Lava Alckon , Anastasia @princess , Rohit @Helo , Kira @Potter
M e n t i o n s :
Hala's Stinky Dog}

Fashionably late.

“Presenting Shehzadi Nahir Aysun Kadir, daughter of Sultan Raif Kadir!”

Nahir moved through the banquet hall with effortless grace, the sheer fabrics of her embroidered gown catching the light as she walked. Tonight, she had forgone her usual crimson for something softer—layers of violet and lavender, the delicate hues shifting like twilight against her skin. Silver, not gold, adorned her. Fine chains, delicate cuffs, dainty earrings, a constellation of gems scattered across her collarbones and wrists. Her hair, usually bound in intricate braids, cascaded in loose waves. The ensemble was regal without severity; every detail and move looked like a whisper of elegance rather than a declaration.

Eyes shifted from the what ever noble had just entered to her, naturally. Not that she particularly cared.

She came to a stop before King Erin and Queen Alibeth, dipping into a bow that was precisely as deep as custom required. No more, no less. “Your Majesties,” she greeted, her voice smooth as silk. “It is an honor, as always.” A polite smile, an exchange of pleasantries, and then she moved on.

Like windchimes in a summer breeze, a song of soft fine jewelry followed her wherever she went.

As she made her way further into the hall, Nahir’s gaze drifted over the gathered nobility—measuring, cataloging. When her eyes caught on Prince Wulfric, she smiled warmly. He always looked the part, she had to admit. Stoic. Broad-shouldered. Composed. Commanding. Cut from the kind of marble that demanded people listen. It suited him.

A pause in her thoughts, brief and weightless.

Some things looked perfect on paper.

Then, she moved on—unhurried and fluid.

Reaching the Alidasht table, she greeted them all with a warmth that was both natural and precisely measured. A moment’s pause, a quiet sniff. “Curious, I had not expected canine in the bouquet of tonight’s perfumes.”

Her attention moved neatly, efficiently, through each of them.

“Uncle,” she said to the Grand Vizier as she neared her seat. With a gracious dip of her head, and nothing more, she greeted him.

“Cousin,” to Farim, with a note of playful suspicion, she greeted next. “Looking too content. Should I be worried?”

To Princess Anastasia, she offered: “Princess, you carry the evening well. I do hope we can keep you entertained for the rest of the evening.”

“Rohit” she said simply, the corners of her mouth tilting in wry amusement. “It is good to see you again.” She continued with the other Alidasht guests until finally—

“Miss Kiraa,” Smooth. Even. No different from the rest, at least in tone.

But her gaze lingered a fraction longer than etiquette required. Not long enough to be considered rude, but just long enough to raise an eyebrow..

And then she sat, the silks of her gown cascading around her like a settling dusk, every gesture quiet and clean.

The mask, as always, impeccable.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

_{dress ♖ hair ♖}

_{C A S T L E D I N N I N G H A L L | E V E N I N G
I n t e r a c t i o n s : Torvi @Tae
M e n t i o n s :}

Zarai blinked, slowly, as if her brain needed a moment to catch up. The honeyed ham in her mouth was absolute perfection—sweet, savory, melting on her tongue like a gift from the heavens above. She barely registered that someone had spoken to her until the words fully settled.

Oh.

Right.

She was at a banquet.

She turned her head, her icy blue eyes hazy but still sharp enough to look at the person addressing her. Another chew, then another. She chewed with exaggerated care, dragging the moment out, and finally swallowed.

Then, with the most self-satisfied smirk, she licked a stray drop of honey from thumb and drawled, “Mmm. Sorry, I got a little… lost in the moment.” She waved her hand vaguely over her plate as if to indicate the food itself was responsible.

She mirrored the woman’s posture and leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her knuckles, looking her over with sleepy amusement. “Zarai, but you can call me whatever you’d like—just say it sweetly.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

_{dress ♖ hair ♖}

_{C A S T L E D I N N I N G H A L L | E V E N I N G
I n t e r a c t i o n s :
M e n t i o n s :}

“My beautiful girl. Are you ready to go?”

The words sounded sweet behind the blanket of haze that had settled in Zarai’s mind.

“Come here, mija.”

Not waiting for her mother to repeat herself, Zarai stepped into the study.

The room was vast, warmed by the soft candlelight and heavy with the scent of ink and old parchment, with a hint of her mother’s perfume. Jasmine and gardenia blooming thick in the air, cloying in their richness. And pomegranate. Rich in sweetness, ripened past its prime, lingering at the edges like a secret left too long to fester. Plush carpets in deep reds and blues and purples swallowed the sound of her steps as she moved toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. Francesca stood there, silhouetted against the evening light filtering through the windows, a crystal glass of wine poised elegantly between her fingers.

“Did you enjoy the gallery today?”

Zarai stiffened as her mother reached up, her fingers tucking a loose strand of curled hair behind her ear. It was a soft, gentle gesture—a motherly one—and Zarai had learned long ago not to flinch.

“It was lovely,” Zarai replied, keeping her voice light, careful. “Milo St. Claire’s pieces were incredible. His brushwork is one of envy.”

Francesca hummed, tilting her head in approval. “Art is a language, mija. One of grace and restraint.” She smiled, the corners of her mouth curling like an artist’s signature at the edge of one of Zarai’s paintings. “You must learn to speak it fluently.”

Zarai nodded, easily matching the warmth of her mother’s expression.

Moments like these were rare. So fragile that even a breath too strong could shatter them. She had learned to hold them delicately, to pretend, if only for a moment, that this was all their relationship had ever been. Warmth. Praise. Soft hands adjusting an errant strand of hair instead of wielding a cane.

She could almost believe it.

Then—

“But I supposed subtlety has never been your strength.”

… Roll…

The words slid into her skin like the bite of winter air that no haze could ever shield against. A chill, sharp and cutting, slicing through the illusion just as quickly as it had been constructed.

Zarai inhaled slowly, willing the sting away. Higher. Zarai must go higher.

“I—”

“You must be more mindful, Zarai.” Francesca swirled the wine in her glass, her voice deceptively calm as the surface of a frozen lake hiding the currents beneath. “I hear things, you know. Whispers. Little birds.”

Clouds. She could feel clouds all around her. So soft. So light. So gentle.

Francesca twirled a curl of rosy gold in her slender finger, their icy blue gazes meeting. “Tell me, my beautiful girl,” she said, her voice smooth, still warm but laced now with something familiar beneath—something cold. “Why do you insist on making things so difficult for yourself?”

And just like that, the moment was gone.

… Rattle…

『 °*• ❀ •*°』

“Sir Barrios, why does it look like you are about to storm the Sorian fortress?” Zarai drawled, her voice lifting with amusement. “Relax. It’s only a banquet, not an execution.” She glanced down as his hand tightened around the hilt of his sword. “Shall I share some of my magical concoction with you, my knight?”

Sir Barrios’s eyes flickered toward her. His expression was unreadable behind the nice, cozy blanket of the drug. Her lips pulled and curled into an easy smile, far too relaxed.

“Your definition of relaxation tends to involve scandalizing half the nobility in attendance.” Sir Barrios glanced down at her with another retort, but it fell short as soon as he saw that smile on her face.

“Gods, Lady Zarai, are you high right now?!” He hissed quietly, looking over his shoulder to ensure no royal guard heard him.

Zarai laughed, as sharp and unapologetic as the clink of her jeweled heels against the marble floor. “Oh, come now, Sir Barrios. Where’s your sense of adventure? Or did you leave it behind with your sense of humor?”

“I left it behind,” he replied dryly, “when I was assigned to escort you.”

She grinned, leaning in just close enough to make him stiffen and shut up. “Admit it. You’d be bored without me.”

Before he could retort, the doors swung open with a dramatic flourish, and the herald’s voice boomed across the hall. “Announcing Lady Zarai Lesdeman of Puerto Vira!”

As they reached the center of the room, both bowed to the King and Queen.

Fingers brushed over the delicate layers of her dress as Zarai lifted her arms slightly, sinking into a flawless curtsy. Head bowed, eyes lowered, smile poised—the perfect display of grace, fitting for a future duchess. She rose with the same practiced ease, turning smoothly to make her way towards her seat, Sir Barrios trailing just behind her.

With her one duty for the evening now complete, she wasted no time in seeking out her assigned seat—though, much to his dismay, Sir Barrios had to steer her in the right direction. Her focus had already strayed, drawn to the grand feast already spread across the tables. She hadn’t eaten since morning, and with the effects of the drug humming through her veins, she could eat that whole roasted pig lying atop the table.