Syrenrei

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"It's beautiful," Solae murmured to herself though it hardly did the spectacle any justice. She sincerely doubted Rene could hear her voice above the sounds of the typhoon howling hundreds of meters above the ship nor the white noise created by the torrential downpour. When they had been further inside their vessel they had the benefit of the interior structure to help nullify exterior sound while naturally amplifying their own conversation. Even without the ability to communicate vocally they could still utilize body language to convey their thoughts. Rene could easily deduce from the star-struck expression on his lover's visage and the smile creeping upon her lips that she was just as enchanted and humbled by the vision of exotic beauty he was.

Despite her status as an aristocrat, the marquise was not as well-traveled as many of upper echelon of society, the sorts that had luxury cruisers and spacecraft with all the latest technology to expedite their journey with maximum efficiency. The late matriarch and patriarch of the Falia direct lineage had settled on New Concordia not long after she had been born and not been inclined to venture back toward the central systems often. By the most liberal measurements both Marquess Alyosha Falia and Marquise Selene Falia had been quite eccentric in their planetary anchoring. For this reason the backdrop of space, with its offerings of glittering stars and bursts of color from distant galaxies and stellar drifts, had been been fantastical for Rene's proposal. Solae did not expect to find alien flora or fauna that could begin to compare yet she was mistaken.

Feeling adventurous she squeezed her soldier's hand and tugged him down the ramp. She was not confident that, even with the caldera buffering the majority of the gale's force, that her core strength was sufficient to keep her upright if she wandered into the shallow pools. Rene had flattered her on her intellect and coordination but there was no sense in denying that physically she did not have the upper hand in any scenario not fixated on aesthetic appeal. Solae knew that she needed the support of her companion if she wanted to frolic in the glowing phosphorescent liquid.

It was more of a struggle than she had anticipated, due in part to the depth of the veritable pond that had formed around the Bonaventure and her inadequate footwear, but Rene was more than capable of assisting her through when she stumbled. Solae was determined not to let this experience of Panopontus pass her by after she had been put through the duress of making a precise landing through the center of a natural disaster. She felt the universe owed her this tiny expedition. The diplomat was in sore need of reward Soon enough she'd be grounded to the captain's quarters while she her consort went on a mission to obtain them fuel. Getting wet, potentially ruining her clothes, and straining her muscles through the muddy ground was a small price to pay for this joyful immersion in peculiar glamor.

Of course she was reluctant to go too far. Solae knew her limitations and, more importantly, she respected the fury of the beast that assaulted the rocky protection of the caldera's formation. Far too many underestimated nature's ability to destroy. Nobility in particular felt invulnerable, empowered by scientific gains, and out of the reach of anything but courtly assassination plots. The coup would prove to them that they were not gods among men but so could this evening on Panopontus. Strangely she wished a duke or duchess were present to see how weak they were against the might of one 'lowly' storm.

The Betrothed

"I'm surprised she came," one of the reporters in the parting crowd murmured to a colleague as Prince Luke was passing them. She wasn't close enough to the throng of hungry broadcasters immediately next to the princess elect. As such she realized that any questions she might want to ask their future royal would not be heard much less answered.

"I wouldn't have," the man next to her responded as he adjusted his sunglasses and ran his hand through his hair. "Makes you wonder if Evolab would have ever imagined the daughter and sister of people they let die with their outrageous prices would be queen some day. Maybe we can't run the story but I don't envy them finding out the truth of their honored guest." That wasn't to say that Evolab's innovations weren't respected. Everyone realized that the company played no small role in helping civilization continue after nearly apocalyptic acts of biological warfare. More than anyone else, however, the media realized that no entity or person was wholly benevolent. Evolab had undoubtedly been started by people seeking self-preservation and to make a profit at the same time. In their current incarnation there were branches and site to the worldwide corporation that had scandal; after all, even charities had been proven time and time again to have their flaws.

"Luke," Rhiane greeted as she turned. The former farmer had expected to find her fiance in a tailored suit, or perhaps some new men's fashion that was making its rounds at the court, but not the military uniform he donned at this moment. For a second her face faltered. Judging by the cameras pointed in their direction her reaction was undoubtedly immortalized and to be plastered across the kingdom's news articles the next day. During the lapse her lips had parted slightly, her eyes had widened, and she had looked at him with undisguised appreciation. It wasn't a show. She genuinely found him to be strikingly handsome in his current attire. Perhaps it was because she recognized that he wasn't wearing anything different than what other servicemen wore and yet he made it look better. On the other hand, it was just as likely to be that for the first time he wasn't wearing clothing that was so expensive, so unreachable, so distinctively elite that he was visually her superior in every way. Luke didn't feel like he was standing on a pedestal while she was in a ditch, he just felt there, next to her, offering his arm politely.

"I knew this was a business event but I didn't realize it was a party. Perhaps a cocktail dress would have been more appropriate?" she commented once her mind no longer felt muddled by the sight in front of her. Tobias had waited patiently for her to regain her ability to speak before he let go of her arm and stepped back to allow space for her future husband to become the proper escort. Rhiane did not, however, close the distance as quickly as she might have the day before. No matter how hard she tried to forget, his romantic overtures of the night before had seared themselves in her psyche. There was a delicate balance to maintain between continuing their charade and giving false hope of sincere emotional attachment.

"Your highness," the bodyguard said, lowering his voice to a whisper and turning his head so that no clever members of the press would be able to read his lips and determine what he was saying. "I brought some of Miss Black's medication in case her shoe choice begins to cause an issue," he reassured, "I will leave it at your discretion." It was the most polite way that Tobias could admit that, despite how congenial the princess elect was with her servants, she had been resistant to his suggestion of preemptive dosing. Fortunately the brazen woman had not been so foolish as to remove her brace. The almost imperceptible silicon support was wrapped firmly around the weakened ankle in question.

Rhiane herself had not heard the minimal exchange and so, while she was curious what words might be shared between the two cousins, she was happy to proceed into the building. Hopefully they would have a few appetizers- though she was not overly optimistic that she would be able to stomach their offerings. Even without knowing the reporters were aware of her history (rather than the fabrication that had been sold to the masses) she was a bit sickened to know where she was going. It was possible she would be face to face with the same executives that so callously believed that if the poor died it was simply the 'way of things.' Certain nobles certainly held such viewpoint. None of them that she was aware of, however, had either directly or indirectly contributed to her personal tragedies of the past.

The Betrothed

Tobias had called on Madeline, Viola, a pair of beauticians, and a handful of other assistants and attendants to help prepare the lounging princess elect for a formal business affair. When they were summoned the cosmetologists had feared a repeat of the day before, of arriving to find that the former farmer had wrecked her hair in particular as she had on the island adventure, but were pleasantly surprised to find that was not the case. Rhiane was casually dressed but otherwise presentable- just not for the event that Luke was requesting her sudden attendance. They had set out at once to comb through her wardrobe (all of which were designer labels selected for her without any input) as she was guided to the nearest palace salon for more thorough preparations. She didn't catch all the lingo that was being thrown around but she heard words like "conditioning" and "mask" and "cutting-edge treatment" dripping off their lips as they conversed in front of her.

A few minutes out. The bodyguard's reply was terse and lacked the formality of his previous correspondence; he simply didn't have the time for a proper salutation and signature. In the lap of the commoner-turned-future-princess was a tablet with a variety of information he had gathered at the last minute on Evolab. Rhiane was not terribly familiar with navigating the device, much like all the other sophisticated technology she had come into contact with in the last week, and so his attention was on providing her assistance rather than detailing the last two hours in excruciating detail.

"We've arrived, Miss Black," the driver notified them through the intercom seconds before the luxury vehicle came to a halt.

"Has Luke already arrived?" she queried Tobias as she slipped the tablet into a leather case and set it on the seat next to her. Peering out the window she could see the frenzy of media correspondents who were sizing up her car. Rhiane had not been one of the announced guests, she suspected, as they were excitedly pointing in the general direction with confusion on their features. As she awaited her answer the driver had stepped out and circled around to the door.

"Yes, I believe he has," Tobias stated just as the driver opened the door. Fortunately he was a shield from the press as he exited the vehicle before her. This had been planned so that he could take her hand and make sure she didn't falter as she stepped out. Rhiane also knew that if she was going to have him be her assigned companion and protector it would be easier to integrate him into her schedule sooner rather than later. If she was doing this favor to Luke he could cope with her also utilizing the media presence to make an introduction.

"Miss Black!" rang out a multitude of voices as they saw her emerge.

Yesterday she had been, by her own admission, not in the best shape physically. Today was an entirely different story. The setting sun kissed her bronzed skin. Although it had been tanned by years in the fields she shone like a goddess of the beach rather than the rural villages at the edge of the kingdom. She wore a designer peplum top with a belt across the empire waist that drew attention to her proportions without being scandalously immodest. Paired with this was a pencil skirt that, with her hourglass hips and long legs, accentuated her figure while remaining professional. Rhiane also carried a small black clutch and wore tall stilettos that made her tall enough not to threaten Luke's height but look more natural on his arm... though at the present moment it was Tobias whose arm took hers stiffly.

"Miss Black, care to make a statement about who is with you today?" she heard one particularly loud woman project over the crowd.

"Certainly," she said with a gracious smile as she glided over to the sidelines of the gathering. Her long hair had two small braids at the temples that had been used to fashion and natural low ponytail at the nape of her neck. A fashion editor noticed this hairstyle and snapped a few photos as she drew closer to undoubtedly broadcast for others to replicate. "Queen Camilla has appointed this gentleman, Tobias Lavanchy, as my personal bodyguard."

"A male bodyguard?" someone called out incredulously.

"That question is sexist, don't you think? I believe he was appointed he was the best candidate for the position- and that is more important than if he's a man or woman, isn't it? We wouldn't want a woman disqualified for a position based on her gender so we must apply the same ideology to men. Mr. Lavanchy also happens to be Prince Lucius's second cousin through the paternal side so he has familiarity with the royal family that will be of great help to me when my fiance isn't available," she explained. There were a few murmurs but no one was brave- or stupid- enough to question the wisdom of the queen openly. Even if they had been so bold there was a certain amount of respect and reverence in the nation for Luke's late father and his relatives. No one discussed it in polite company but many had sympathy, if not pity, for the 'lost' or 'forgotten' in-laws.

"What brings you here today? Are you going to propose your vaccination program from yesterday's interview?" a newscaster ventured.

"No, no we have not even begun discussions. So far that is just one of my dreams," Rhiane said with a smile still on her features though it rapidly became more genuine at the mention of the charitable outreach notion she had. "Today I am here to support my future husband only," she confessed.

The Betrothed

"He wants me to go a formal business event with him?" Rhiane asked after Tobias recited the relevant paragraph of the message for her response. The princess elect was not angry but rather confused; after being so excited about his 'day of freedom' she couldn't begin to imagine why he was wanting of her presence. She fully expected him to reappear this evening griping about the implants and the inconvenience of the invisible collar they created. This was such a stark deviation from his exuberance at having a day of independence it made her quite uneasy. Either she vastly underestimated his about-face regarding engaging in a genuine romance or there was an unanticipated problem that resulted in the sudden summon. She was genuinely uncertain which she found more frightening: that he craved her attention and wanted to be a true couple in every meaning of the word or that there was trouble brewing on the horizon that he strangely thought she could somehow assist with. As proud as Luke was she could neither imagine nor conceive a situation that he, nor any other member of the royal family, thought she could be beneficial to involve. Rhiane knew she was a publicity stunt, meant to smile and wave, to be pretty for pictorials, and to eventually bear children, but she was not meant to be influential or meddle in anything of greater importance.

"Tell him I decline the invitation on the basis I was medically advised to rest," she said after a moment's thought. There was nothing to gain by going to this so-called business event. Either there would be an expectation of honest affection in the event Luke was demanding her for emotional fulfillment or he desired a contribution towards whatever endeavor was being forged. If it was the latter and the dealings soured she would be a scapegoat- even if they succeeded she would never be given any praise or credit. Rhiane had enough 'no-win' scenarios in her life without indulging the spoiled heir to the throne more than necessary.

Tobias paused for a moment and then, without the slightest reaction to his words, bent over to key a message to his second cousin. His features were as stern as always but he saw a golden opportunity- one in which he could illuminate how he was superior to the crown prince with his compassion, his humility, and his understanding. Not only would he poke the bear but he would try to juxtaposition himself so that Rhiane would find it impossible to not draw a comparison. He did not need her love but he needed her trust if he was going to recruit her and turn her away from obedience to the monarchy. If she was stolen successfully from the clutches of Queen Camilla she could be a devastating loss, one that would be able to shed a light onto the reality of both the castle and nobility through her experiences, who would no longer owe them obligation, and could stoke the fires of revolution with her effortless charisma.

Your Highness,

Miss Black wishes to follow the advice of the royal doctor and stay at the palace to rest. We watched two films today, as I advised earlier was her intention, and dined with two of her maids for lunch. At no point have we left your highness's quarters. I will discuss this matter further with Miss Rhiane.

I believe that I will be able to convince her to attend. Should I encounter further difficulty, I will notify you shortly.

Sincerely,
Tobias Lavanchy

It was as formal as was protocol between the two relatives. Tobias's father was elevated into the aristocracy when Luke's father was made king but it by no means but the two on equal social footing. To the lords and ladies of the court the darker-haired man was the inferior of the fair-haired by birth. If he had chosen to pursue a different lifestyle perhaps Tobias could have achieved a title but beneath his stoicism he did not have the iron stomach for the treachery that was more common in the throne room than the common cold. There was a subtle jab in the missive, however, that was reminiscent of how the nation's leaders typically conversed with each other. Tobias all but suggested he could better persuade Luke's fiancee than he himself could.

"Miss... Rhiane," he started as he put down the device and turned back towards the sultry figure that had once again splayed herself on the sofa. Although he was no interested in any sort of relationship beyond the platonic towards her she was captivating in a distracting manner. Her long, thick, dark hair looked remarkably like a river of decadent chocolate, her bronzed skin shone under the mid-day lighting, and casual clothing could not completely conceal the curves beneath that had won her the hearts of most of the male population of New Rome. "I can summon the medical staff to evaluate you if you think you are still unwell."

"No, not that is not necessary, thank you," the princess elect said quickly.

"If I may be so bold, I think you should reconsider Prince Lucius's request," he intoned quietly in his deep baritone voice. Normally Tobias would not have cared an ounce. More than once he had turned a blind eye to the drama that filled the walls of New Rome's most revered building. It was his hidden investment that compelled him to intervene now when he never had before.

"Why is that?" Rhiane asked pleasantly. She was suspicious of both his intentions and reasoning. While his companionship had been somewhat enjoyable during their movie binge of the morning that did not make them close confidants. The former farmer had not yet lowered her defensive walls for her bodyguard nor anyone else in the employment of the crown; it was too premature for such faith.

"His highness said he needs you and I do not believe he would put forth the effort to contact you through me unless he felt it was beneficial," he replied. Tobias also knew the heir apparent to be a shrewd businessman but he did not want to laud praise on him, not when he was trying to turn Rhiane's eyes away from his virtues, and not when he was trying to encourage a mentality that would be susceptible to defection. "And his reputation is closely linked to your own. If he were to bring you to a meeting that reflected poorly on you, it would also negatively affect him, something of which he is surely aware."

Rhiane stared at Tobias for one long moment before sighing and rising to her feet. "I suppose you have a point," she admitted. There was still the risk Luke was harboring feelings she did not want to reciprocate but if she wanted anyone to listen to her, to view her as more than a pawn, she couldn't hide away and only display herself as the pretty face was relegated to embodying. "Very well, let him know I will be going," she remarked, "but I want you to come with me so that I may depart early if he discovers he'll need to stay late."

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

Rene's words made her smile despite her sullen despondency. She had certainly been given compliments before; no lady of social standing went through life without hearing praise of their heritage, of their skills, of their beauty, of their intellect, or something similarly suiting. The courts were cutthroat but they were not filled with only ridicule and betrayal. Every noble knew inherently how to forge alliances with honeyed words that would put them in good favor. Her now-fiance was exceedingly sincere, however, as well as kind and earnest, and it was these attributes that made his flattery exponentially more charming than anyone else's she could recall. Unlike her parents he did not possess a familial obligation to appropriately adulate her and nor had he political agenda that would compel. He was simply a man who cared about her, who believed every word he uttered, and was distressed at her injured pride.

"It's not as easy as you make it sound," Solae remarked.

And it wasn't. The inflatable that he referenced had never been used before and could be defective. If the rest of the Bonaventure was any indication she wouldn't shocked to discover it had been dragged out for an absurd purpose, damaged, or simply didn't work. Chances were that the previous owners of the vessel had forgotten it and it was immaculate but that was not their only issue. Getting across the straight, finding fuel and/or a person selling fuel, obtaining it without arousing suspicion, and then crossing the body of water back to the caldera was no small feat. Just trying to visualize the veritable man of her dreams putting himself into such a dangerous situation gave her heart palpitations that had nothing to do with their passionate romance. The marquise would have to send him off and try to trust that he would succeed and return. If he did not she would be mourning the life lost while stranded on a foreign world and awaiting her inevitable capture. She knew she would be a liability to Rene's minor quest but being separated, however brief, terrified her.

"We still can't do anything until the storm clears," she insisted. "It will be hard enough with the flooding but you're insane if you think you'll have my blessing going now. Landing during the storm is our reckless strategy for the week. In seven days we can begin negotiations about what horribly risky proposal you want to indulge," she teased as she leaned over and deposited an affectionate kiss on his cheek. Though she was jesting about the timetable she was quite committed to delaying his outing. The typhoon could have destroyed an armored spaceship; it would absolutely rip a tiny little emergency transport to shreds if it just didn't buck him off to drown. That didn't even factor in him trying to haul fuel through cataclysmic tides almost a hundred meters high.

"Are you hungry? We have a wonderful assortment of gourmet delicacies in the kitchen," she mused aloud as she rose from the bed. If Rene wanted to celebrate she imagined that picking up sundries off the floor of the captain's quarters was not what he envisioned. Solae tucked the holo plate under her arm so that she could assess the map more thoroughly after her adrenaline-induced hunger was satiated.

After a second she paused and turned, however, recalling something he had mentioned earlier. "You said you wanted me to see something? If it's not the exterior of the ship, what is it?

The Betrothed

Two movies later, one of which they had both legitimately enjoyed, and one of which Tobias had been much less enchanted than the princess elect (as the special effects were far more impressive than any of the acting and Rhiane had far less exposure to major films), and they were both ready to eat. Being assigned as her personal bodyguard meant the slightly older man was at the mercy of the schedule of his charge. Rumors persisted that the queen wanted her future daughter-in-law as thin as possible in order to appeal to the nobility so he would not have been surprised if a meal was skipped. Fortunately, the former farmer had no intentions of being faithful to any diet. She knew her current image was what appealed to the masses, the people whom she was meant to invoke loyalty to the crown, and so she had no fealty to any goal to make her into a half-starved waif. As far as she was concerned it was Luke's task to keep the wealthy, spoiled, and entitled aristocrats supportive. He understood them far better than she ever would or could. Peasants were best left to the peasant and scions to the heir.

After deciding she was ready to eat Rhiane declared an idea that left Tobias so stunned that his mask of stoicism slipped: lunch with him and a couple of her maids. Technically there were no rules from Queen Camilla expressly forbidding sharing a table with servants. It was for this reason that her plan was allowed to come to fruition. There was no one immediately available to come to the prince's bedchambers and share a meal with the princess elect who was of appropriately high stature, she expressed she did not want to dine alone, and there was not enough time to summon the monarch and have her decide whether or not such a request could be permitted. It would later undoubtedly become the talk of the palace. Rhiane, future wife to their prosperous kingdom's ruler, chose the company of her subordinates. It was both a salacious story for the courts and an endearing tale for the public.

The two ladies brought to the prince's quarters were dedicated attendants to Rhiane specifically. Viola was a relatively new appointee to the staff, three months younger than Rhiane, from a noble family on the lower end of the social strata, and all too eager to seize the opportunity that had been offered. She had long dark hair that fell to her waist, eyes that almost looked black except in the brightest light, and a pronounced hourglass figure that was only overshadowed in the presence of her mistress, Rhiane. By most standards she was quite beautiful but her lineage lacked influence or renown thus she was still an unwed maiden. Madeline was, by contrast, in her thirties, married to a butler, of sufficient social standing she exercised authority over senior members of the castle staff, and more homely in appearance. If she had been walking around the capitol by herself no one would have known she was anyone respected or exceptional. Madeline was short, heavier than the conventional aesthetic dictated, had a prominent nose, and had her brown hair cut to a somewhat unflattering length for practical reasons (allegedly her daughter pulled on it when it was longer).

They had been seated around one of Luke's table. There was no head of the table, though Rhiane would have been well within her rights to assume such a position, and the plates of food that had been delivered were large portions meant to be shared. Had the two maids and guard been by themselves they would have been given mass-produced dinnerware. It was the presence of the individual that would soon join the royal family through ceremony that demanded their lunch been served on fine china decorated with a delicate filigree design.

"Thank you for inviting us again, Miss Black," Viola gushed before glancing to Tobias and smiling brightly. Even a blind, deaf, and dumb man would have been able to spot the girlish crush she had on the handsome bachelor. Luke and his brothers were firmly off-limits to someone like herself so it was understandable why she might have such a fixation on Tobias; he was single, reserved, tall, chiseled, and lacked any of the arrogance that his peers had. She would have been hard-pressed to find someone more eligible and attractive among palace employees. Tobias's father, the late king's cousin, came from the same ancestry that had made Queen Camilla's former consort striking enough to be selected as her spouse. It only made sense that what made Luke such a renowned heartthrob would do the same for his relatives.

"You're doing me a favor," Rhiane promised as she portioned out some of the fall harvest salad onto her plate. "I realize this is a bit unconventional but it seemed silly to eat lunch by myself when there are so many people around. Besides, I am in your debt for all that you have been doing to help me adjust to my new life," she continued as she used a pair of polished silver tongs to place a slice of foccacia next to the leafy greens.

"You owe us no gratitude," Madeline with polite formality. As much as the princess elect was trying to cultivate a casual atmosphere it was nearly, if not totally, impossible for the professional woman to forego proper etiquette. "It is our duty and privilege to serve you."

"Even if that is true I can still be thankful," Rhiane countered with a charming smile. "It might be the chef's responsibility to cook but you can still feel appreciative for what he's prepared, can't you?" she said with a gesture to the decadent platters strategically placed where all of them could reach. "I think that's something we all too often forget, don't you? We take people and things for granted far too often and don't realize how blessed we are, how wonderful the world us is, and how everyone deserves recognition and praise for their accomplishments, no matter how mundane."

"You make a compelling argument," Tobias said to break the slightly uncomfortable silence that followed Rhiane's brazen statement. Viola was trying to keep herself from laughing imagining either Luke or Queen Camilla sharing the sentiment and Madeline had pursed her lips together as she tried to evaluate whether Rhiane was sincere or was perhaps using a convincing courtier mockery of their social class.

"Thank you Tobias. Does anyone call you Toby? Or do you always go by Tobias?" she asked curiously.

"I am always addressed as either Dark Horse 3, Tobias, or Mr. Lavanchy," he answered simply as he served himself marinated chicken breast that had been tastefully sprinkled with chopped herbs. The scent of the entree wafted through the room and was enticing enough that as soon as he had finished choosing his slices both Viola and Madeline were reaching for the plate to partake as well.

"Hmmmm," Rhiane said as she looked at her new bodyguard thoughtfully. She was admittedly in a bit of a rush for familiarity, in the hopes that she could create a level of trust that would challenge their blind indoctrination, but she didn't think that Tobias would be emotionally receptive to any such overtures. The princess elect knew she had to be steady and slow to earn his confidence; this was not a time to be impatient. Little did she know that she stately man was trying to do the exact thing to her but with entirely different motivations and ambition.

"May I ask you a question, Miss Black?" Viola ventured. Madeline's lips thinned in disapproval but she did not outwardly protest. To do so would challenge the former farmer's wishes and she knew that she was out-ranked. No one, not even the queen who endorsed the division of social class, would support such blatant insubordination.

"Of course! Yes, please, ask me anything you like- except perhaps to kiss and tell," she answered quickly with a mischievous wink. To her companions this was an absolutely reasonable boundary. No one seriously expected, not even the media, to be allowed a window into Prince Luke's most private and intimate moments. For her this instruction was given because she was genuinely uncomfortable with her brothed's incredibly bizarre romantic gestures. Voicing them aloud would make her anxiety regarding the future of hers and Luke's relationship exponentially inflated.

"In your interview you didn't talk much about your family," Viola said as she spooned freshly steamed vegetables onto her plate and then began to cut them into tiny bites as was proper manners. "What are they like?"

Rhiane had to suppress the urge to bristle at the question. She had avoided the topic because the estrangement she had from her father and brother was so painful, so difficult to bear, and so demoralizing that she had been unable to even place a picture of them on her wall. It was easier to try to forget they existed than remember the parting words that had carved large wounds onto her heart. But it was unconscionable to pretend they didn't exist. It was for their benefit she had even considered entering their contest and it was for them alone that she continued to play her part in the spectacle that was being compared to Cinderella on the evening news. As angry as she was with both of them she wanted to honor them even if it was in the privacy of the quarters of a man they hated above all others.

"My father is a tall, like Tobias, but he's a bit wider," she joked as she tried to recall happier days. The fond tone she took one immediately made even Madeline drop her silverware and pay rapt attention; there was such love, such adoration, such reverence in her voice it was bewitching. "Everyone thinks because he's large, and facial hair, that he looks like a bear and must act like one, but he's actually too much of a people pleaser. He is too kind to say 'no' even when someone is talking him into a bad deal. Mom always said he was a bit of a doormat when someone came to him with a sad story. Gerald is a giant too, but almost all muscle, and has the opposite problem with people. He has a heart of gold but he gets frustrated very easily, and loses his temper, and we spend more time trying to calm him down for being upset over the smallest things... but he's bright. Sebastian and I always told him he should have pursued a higher education. He has such amazing focus, and dedication, that I think he'd be brilliant in university."

"What about your mother and other brother?" Viola asked gently in a voice barely above a whisper.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"No, I'm not," Solae admitted almost immediately. After Rene had tended to her wounds he had left the medical kit on the only nightstand in the captain's quarters. The bed was welded to both the floor and the wall and had a slight lip around the perimeter that was was customary with economical spaceships such as the freight vessel that was the Bonaventure. Luxury cruisers did not need to anticipate turbulence for their refined gusts but cheaper models had a rougher ride both in relation to making jumps, spacial navigation, take offs, and landings. Just as been the case with antiquated naval boats, the lip was meant to keep sleeping occupants in their bed rather rolling off the higher surface and onto the floor. Solae's tryst with zero gravity had lifted the small first aid container into the air and, with remarkable efficiency, let almost all of its components drift out. A transfusion device loaded with a stimulant had become wedged between their lumpy mattress and the aforementioned metal lip.

"When we were on New Concordia our goal was to get off the planet. That was all I thought about because I was certain that once we had left we would be able to warn the empire, retreat to safety, and start putting the nightmare of war behind us," she sighed. She had fished out the cylinder and deposited it back into their medical kit. With any luck they wouldn't need to use it nor would they need to go looking for the other supplies they had stolen from the slavers. Almost an entire crate had been loaded with various medical items discovered in the makeshift clinic, kitchen, and pantry of the plantation. For better or worse they could tend to a small entourage had they the expertise. "At the very least I was certain our situation would improve."

Abandoning her cleaning task for now she sat down on the edge of the bed. For the last few nights she had chosen to sleep next to the wall. Being strategically placed between Rene and several thick layers of alloy plating had made her feel safe and secure. Thinking objectively this was probably a reflection of some lingering psychological trauma sustained on New Concordia. More than once she had been exposed to the brutality of the violent revolution: when she had watched the embassy's walls explode, when she watched her co-workers get impaled by shrapnel, when she fell on corpses fleeing the crumbling building, when she had nearly been captured by soldiers, when she had been snatched and drugged by criminal degenerates. Had her illusions of protection not been shattered by the first steps of a murderous campaign it would have been more odd than subconsciously seeking out methods to feel guarded.

"Trying to pilot through that typhoon may be the hardest thing I've ever done, and perhaps I ought to be proud, but when we crashed I realized that not only was any victory mitigated by the damage we had taken, but I had struggled and had gained us no benefit. The ship is damaged. We don't have enough fuel to leave. There's no array here. Resources will me more scarce after the hurricane because whatever surviving population there is after this monumental natural disaster will be focused on rebuilding and recovery." She leaned over and rubbed her head in her hands. The loose bun she had created came loose and golden hair tumbled down her shoulders. "On New Concordia the rebellion had more of a presence but we knew the area, we knew the Syshin would be potential allies, and we had a plan. There is nothing for us here. We're stranded and our enemy has only gained strength. Coming to Panopontus is a complete loss, Rene. We're farther behind than we were before, aren't we? What have we accomplished? Having the Bonaventure is only a gain if it can jump us elsewhere which at present it cannot; all it can provide for us is shelter."

"We had a rough plan on New Concordia but... I don't have a plan for what to do from here," Solae confessed. "If we had touched down closer to a town or city I might be able to sneak out in evening hours when my hair is less distinguishable and recognizable, but I don't know that will be possible from the caldera. I'd need some manner of boat, be able to make my way to shore, and be able to infiltrate whatever library or archive they have that hasn't been destroyed. Urban exploration I'd have more success with."

Solae wasn't certain what she wanted him to say. The handsome soldier in front of her had no divine powers with which to change their circumstances into more favorable conditions. Whatever he had called her to see earlier- which she had yet to inquire after- had infused his voice with a light joy. It was her cynicism, her scrutiny, her inability to accept even the hint of failure that was pulling him down from the clouds where had he had been able to savor the relatively positive outcome of descending through gale force winds into a rock formation that naturally shielded them from the savage tempest. At the conclusion of her explanations for her negative outlook she felt guilty for burdening him when he had been so happy before posing such an innocent question. Her irritation with herself renewed she stood and began to clean once more.

"It's too risky for me to go anywhere so I'll stay here and perform maintenance once I've put everything away," she stated with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. Much as she enjoyed fiddling with the Bonaventure and feeling that she could make minor improvements, some of which cured glitches or helped Mia integrate into the systems, she would much rather be gathering information about the sector and solving the murder mystery buried in Rene's past. Afloat in jump space there had been no better use of her time than tooling with conduits and nebulous circuitry but now she was confined by the appeal of a bounty rather than physical limitations. On Panopontus the monetary reward would be twice as enticing as on New Concordia where there were more opportunities for financial growth.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

Putting the Bonaventure into a free-fall had seemed to be a good idea at the time- and indeed the strategy was successful in conserving their fuel to some degree- but their brief encounter with zero gravity had left the interior of the ship in disarray. Engineering protocols mandated that even freighter vessels such as the one Solae and Rene had stolen from slavers be designed with the understanding there would be turbulence. Weightlessness, however, was not a testing simulation for manufacturing nor considered with design. It had been determined centuries ago that artificial gravity was best for traversing the universe and thus no one anticipated any reason their galleys, crew quarters, or cockpits meet pre-empire standards of adventuring astronauts. Solae had sighed at the foodstuffs, tools, and trivial necessities strewn about before rising from her seat and sorting them methodically. Rationally she knew this was just an inconvenience but her heart took it was yet another sign she had made grave mistakes.

"I'm not in the mood, Rene," she called out as she picked up an old-fashioned bar of soap that had escaped its holder in the shower and tucked it back into place. "The last thing I need to see is how damaged the ship is," the marquise admitted to herself aloud. She had assumed the sounds of him forcing the ramp to descend, then the fading thudding noise of his boots upon metal, were indicative of a much-needed survey of the exterior. No one ever claimed had ever claimed the piercing through a typhoon was in the best interests of interstellar spacecraft. There was bound to be some repercussions for their risky endeavors.

Staying inside was her attempt to willfully ignore the pain that came from reflecting upon their circumstances with cynicism. Most would have been like Rene, celebrating their victory with a mixture of relief and excitement, but Solae's overtaxed optimism was crashing as spectacularly as their method of transportation had not fifteen minutes earlier. After landing she felt jittery, ill, numb, fatigued, and frustrated both at the challenge and the imperfect results. Nobility was groomed with high expectations that nothing they did, said, or made should be anything less than flawless, and yet the Bonaventure's current state was a loss contained inside the triumph for an aristocrat. Solae was realizing what a poor loser she was, how badly she accepted any perceived failure, and how much pride she had left to be wounded.

Allies. Though the linguist had Rene, for whom she was eternally grateful, there were no other lasting bonds that would help carry them towards successfully fleeing to a safe sector. The Syshin of Amber Horizon lacked the sophisticated communication equipment necessary to call upon other of their species on nearby planets- as humanity was justly paranoid opening lines between settlements could lead to coups- and so each encampment would require another foray into diplomatic exchanges. The Parks had temporarily assisted the couple but made their intentions to stay on New Concordia, and out of the skirmishes of the war, quite clear. Mia was a synthetic consciousness and her programming was less dependable than the human heart but technically she was an ally for now.

Transport. The Bonaventure was functional but undeniably in a state of disrepair even before they hurtled through a hurricane to the surface of Panopontus. To have the ship in perfect working order would require a substantial amount of currency, components and replacements that she was uncertain would be easily located or purchased, and repairs that would take time and expertise. Assuming there was not significant damage sustained that would leave them stranded on the oceanic world, any business or individuals they sought out for assistance would likely have questions why it had such unusual owners (if they did not recognize Solae immediately from the posted bounty).

Warning to Capella. Their plan to send Rene's father a message was the best chance of relaying the urgency of the situation, but with each passing day the rebellion would strengthen their grip on the sector, and the longer it took them to get to a communication array the more doubts that Solae had any correspondence would make a significant difference. The full force of the empress's fleet was breathtaking but it was not the only factor in a war. Battalions could wipe out the treasonous Duke if his forces were rooted in only a few cities but so long as the empire was ignorant of crimes he had a potent advantage. Outposts of marines could be ambushed and murdered, just as Rene's had, and he could conquer with little resistance.

The more she remunerated on Panopontus the more bleak their outlook seemed. She was skeptical they could find sympathetic souls here, or resources, or information, or means to get to a communication array. Biting her lip lightly she considered once more that Rene would, in fact, be better without his identifiable golden-haired fiancee. If he settled nearby he could forge a new identity, obtain gainful employment, and start over with little risk of discovery. The marquise was in no rush to abandon their mission but she was starting to become convinced that some, if not all, of their goals might be too lofty for reality.

The Betrothed

Tobias had just sent for breakfast, to be served in the crown prince's quarters, when he heard the soft pinging noise of a received message. He glanced down at the scrolling text and stared at it for several long seconds. Any woman who had won a contest such as the princess elect must be strong of will yet he somehow doubted she was quite as taxing as his cousin insinuated; Luke was infamously obstinate himself and he wagered that any failed meeting of the minds was blamed on the former peasant instead of the royal heir. The missive was encouraging. Although the engaged pair played a perfect couple on broadcast he was now even more certain they were not nearly as intimate in practice. Rhiane would be frustrated, isolated, and without the support system she had back home. So long as his proud relatives remained as condescending and dismissive as he knew them to be it would be all too easy to be the hero his ward so desperately needed.

"Your meal is on its way," he announced only to discover that Rhiane had departed the kitchen for an adjoining room. The bodyguard followed after and discovered her lounging on a lavish couch that dominated the seating area of the room. Though she had not complained of any pain she had propped up her braced ankle on a small plush cushion for comfort. Despite himself Tobias frowned. He had been present at the engagement ball and knew the injury was purposefully caused by a visiting diplomat. Mere hours after the betrothal was announced and the kingdom had already failed to protect their newest pawn.

"Excellent," she said with a gracious smile. "Do you know how to operate this thing?" she said with a gesture to quite literally the largest screen she had seen outside of a theatre. Her own home system was mass-produced, inexpensive, small, and with such limited options she knew at a glance that trying to navigate Luke's controls for his beast would be quite the undertaking.

"Yes," Tobias answered succinctly. "The palace has its own showing room," he informed her, "if you would like for me to escort you. It was specially designed for the viewing of films by the royal family and their guests."

"I'm sure it does, but I'd rather stay here," Rhiane stated with a charismatic grin as she tossed her companion the slender high-tech remote that allegedly would power on the sophisticated machine. Luke probably had voice activation on nearly everything he owned but it was exceedingly unlikely he had made any changes to add recognition for hers. At least for the time being she'd rely on more manual controls for the electronics in his suite.

"What would you like to watch?" Tobias asked as he turned on the large flat screen and glanced down to the smaller female. He was 'excessively' tall and towered over most but the princess elect was not as short as many of her gender. Undoubtedly this had played a part in the acceptance as a candidate for her position. Dainty, delicate, and petite flowers might produce male heirs to the throne that were more effeminate aesthetically and the throne wanted to project an image of their lineage being strong both in body and mind. There was a balance to be struck between adhering to standards of beauty and having a unhealthy waif that would weaken the gene pool. By most accounts Rhiane was an excellent fit and he was not immune from admiring her discreetly.

"Why don't you pick something that interests you too? But with a happy ending," she shrugged non-noncommittally before patting the empty spot next to her on the expansive sofa. "Sit with me at least until the food arrives."

Tobias, like all the other members of the palace's staff, had learned how to be nonreactive. If Queen Camilla waltzed through the door and began screeching, if the crown prince engaged in an extra-martial affair before his eyes, or if Princess Callista (bless her kind soul) lost control of herself and became a hysterical mess he was to remain a statue. There were tests administered before security clearance was given to assure that the monarchy was not inconvenienced by an 'emotional' servant. Internally, however, he could not help but be surprised not only by the happy ending request but her consideration of his viewing preferences as well as the invitation to sit beside her. No one knew quite what to expect of the princess elect and yet she defied any preconceptions they might have.

"You have been cleared to travel, although in a limited radius, if you choose to leave the palace," he said he as he scrolled through the digital library for a selection that would be proper and entertaining for someone of her background and status.

"And do what, exactly?" Rhiane said with a raised brow as she watched the rigid bodyguard circle the large furniture before gingerly sitting down on the edge of the cushion immediately next to where she was sprawled. His body language was still so excessively formal he looked as if he was about to take a test on posture rather than enjoy the fruits of the cinema.

"I do not know," Tobias admitted with reluctance. "Shopping?"

At this the former farmer let out a guffaw, then a laugh, and pulled a decorative pillow into her lap as she shook her head in gentle rejection of his proposal. He had not meant to be humorous and she could see in the creases of his brow that he was either perplexed, insulted, or both. "I have all the clothes and shoes I could ever want or need- and then some- and if I was to send any to the people of my town they would take offense. Couture fashion is not practical from their professions and if they sold my gifts they would be disparaged by the rest of the kingdom. No, I think it's best for me to remain here. I've been instructed to rest and I want the citizens to know I take the royal doctor's advice seriously."

What she failed to divulge was that she had the suspicion that Luke might be creating yet another scandal. Her absence would paint her as a dutiful, obedient, and thoughtful addition to the crown; people might speculate exactly how she was spending her time certainly, but if her movie-binging was discovered it would be an innocent enough (if not endearing) explanation. Parading around the capitol would make her look defiant, smug about her newfound wealth, and the media would question if she was ever hurt by Lord Jin in the first place or if it was an act. With her out of the picture the paparazzi would have only Luke to hound and praise or abuse. The crown prince was so elated at Dr. Gulsvig's recommendation the implants be shut off for a day that Rhiane was certain he had something in mind more than just working- he had a reputation as a womanizer in the tabloids for good reason and he was not capable of changing his personality in thirty-six hours so completely. Luke was still the man who bedded someone while his fiancee was entertaining their mutual guests at a celebration in their honor. It was almost guaranteed he'd seize his freedom to explore other ladies besides the low-born creature to whom which he was to be wed.

"I'm not like the other women in the castle, am I?" she asked Tobias.

"No, you are not," Tobias said a bit too quickly. "Do you find this drama acceptable?" he said as he hovered over a historical fictional title that had, presumably, a happy ending as required.

"Yes, please," she said as she sank down. The screen flashed black and, with all the pomp and circumstance of a major blockbuster, a orchestral song resounded through the sudden silence that had fallen over the two.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"Well I am glad you enjoyed the spectacle because I have no intention of repeating it," Solae remarked sourly. Her soldier companion had seen her terrified, anxious, injured, assertive, diplomatic, empathetic, and appalled, but perhaps never quite in such a foul mood as she was now. The marquise punched her own release plate, threw off her harness, and abruptly stood up. Both her arms and legs were shaking as an aftereffect from the tensing of her muscles during their descent, a direct result of duress, which made her momentarily unstable on her feet. A few seconds later and she had stepped away from the safety of her conformed navigation seat and its accompanying console. Needing something to do she twisted her long hair and curled it into a loose bun which she pinned into place with a small metal rod that she kept tucked into her hip pocket for exactly this purpose. It was hardly an updo that was worthy of someone of her station and the simple alloy was more ugly than decorative but she couldn't find it in herself to care.

"Lady Solae, I would like to congratulate you on a successful landing," Mia said. She was either oblivious to Solae's brooding or attempting to assuage any negative emotions with flattery. The artificial intelligence was impossible to understand whether she was being inappropriately seductive or an unwelcome intrusion into a conversation to which she was not a party. "Your excellent coordination and reflexes are to be commended. In my analysis you make a superior pilot and should handle future operations of the Bonaventure."

"Absolutely not," was the linguist's immediate protest to the proposal. "Either of you could have landed on the part of the planet not covered in this storm but we picked this spot- and for what? The Bonaventure's almost certainly been damaged, perhaps even to the point we'll be stuck here longer than if we had landed somewhere else and moved the ship to the caldera after the storm passed, my nerves are frayed, we're lodged in the mud, and we have no boat to ferry us between here and the closest hint of civilization if anyone has survived. We're alive but for how long? If we're stranded in this spot as a result of our choice we'll be discovered by the rebellion with no means to escape!" Without waiting for a rebuttal she turned and stalked her way out of the cockpit and down the narrow corridor to the hold. The true enemy was the Duke staging this coup and yet she felt worse now than she had when they were slowly orbiting Panopontus.

Solae wanted to feel that they were making progress. She had become engaged to the man of her dreams after he had saved her life more than once. The universe, however, continued to conspire and the pressure she was under to successfully touch down a freighter not meant to withstand gale-force winds in a precise location had been crushing. Her mind flickered back to the parents she had lost, the friend whose life had been drained in front of her eyes, knowledge her family home had been ransacked, her co-workers being butchered, her family home being destroyed, witnessing slavers, and fleeing without any real confidence there would be victory. With a sigh she sat down on one of the long benches that had once been utilized to store Syshin. At her core the marquise doubted she had made a difference.

Besides Rene the only things she had to show from the last week were perhaps a dozen Syshin that had been returned to Amber Horizon safely, a deteriorating vessel stolen from degenerates, and funds siphoned from the same criminals' account. Mia's consciousness had been transferred to the spacecraft but a backed-up version of the synthetic being was also remotely saved elsewhere. Leaning over Solae buried her head in her hands and tried to smooth away her ire. Everyone, she reasoned, had days they felt as if their actions were futile.