Syrenrei

The Betrothed

Rhiane collapsed into a seat without a pretense of elegance once Carter was out of the room. Perhaps her fiance would find it unladylike but it spoke to a level of comfort she had around him in most ways. She had decided to be honest with him the moment she won the contest and so she was, becoming more casual in private, without bothering to fix the hem of her pants as she sat or crossing her ankles as proper etiquette dictated. "The poisoning was so four days ago," she complained though not loudly enough anyone would hear. "I've tried to have a message passed along that these dietary restrictions are ridiculous but they are unconcerned with my opinion on the matter." This was no surprise. Even when she was on death's door she had not seemed to take the event quite as seriously as the physicians would have preferred. No doctor nor nurse would trust her to be objective in analysis of her own recovery. Years of experience taught them that if their patient was reluctant to medicate, made frequent jokes about their situation, and underestimated acute conditions, they would continue to prematurely jump back into action.

"Not quite," she said with a shrug to his question about the peasants. "You know, I was thinking on my long journey to the cockpit," the Princess Elect remarked jokingly- she was tall for a woman and less than half a foot shorter than Luke- "about what it must like to be a crown prince. I've seen how much time and energy you sink into trying to help govern the country and spearhead projects of interest to you, but even among the nobility I would wager there are people that underestimate you, or don't understand some of the unique pressures of your station. They might judge you for missing an appointment, and tell others you are lazy, when you have a more pressing matter above their clearance. They might think you have such luxurious accommodations you must always be relaxing because they don't personally see you up late at night working. They might think your mother's praise is more easily earned, that everything comes naturally, that you do not struggle, because they see someone handsome, clever, wealthy, and powerful, who will one day be king."

Rhiane pulled her gaze away from the gently lit clouds and turned towards Luke, propping an elbow up on the side of the chair and leaning her chin into her palm to make certain he had her full attention. "People have a habit, myself included, of listening to others but not really hearing them. Back when I was a farmer, laboring in the fields, I didn't want a knight to ride up, sweep me off my feet, and pay off all my debt. I wanted to be heard. I wanted someone to understand how I had to work when I ran a high fever, because medication was too expensive, and the crop had to be harvested. To know that when there was enough bad weather I'd have to live off one meal a week. To not think because I rested in the winter I was lazy, because I destroyed my hands and back the other three seasons of a year. I know I can't make you talk to the peasants, Luke, but I think they are looking for, and hoping for, is someone to really see them and what they do, someone who is important, someone who might remember them when they are creating future policies."

She returned to reclining in her chair as she stretched her legs out farther in front of her. If she had taken off the heels she was wearing, which had returned to her daily attire as soon as her ankle was considered healed sufficiently for the strappy contraptions, she could have rested her feet on one of the consoles and taken a nap. Rhiane had plenty of sleep over the last few days but the soothing vibrations of the airplane and the utter lack of public to engage with made it a tempting place to doze. Two of her recently chastised bodyguards were wide awake but most of their retinue was enjoying shut-eye. There were not nearly as many security concerns while thousands of kilometers above the ground.

"In any case, I also wanted to remind you that Ms. Viscomi will report whatever we do, or do not do, to Queen Camilla... and the implants can be controlled from a considerable distance. I've shared close quarters with far less dashing individuals but I know it will hamper your work if you're seen as uncooperative and have the leash tightened. You'll have to listen to my, what was it? Loud snoring? at an even closer distance." She jested with a wink as she crossed her legs. Much as he detested being bound to her, almost certainly because he had other people he'd rather entertain or things he'd prefer to do alone, it bothered her less and less. Rhiane didn't mind the lack of solitary time. When Luke was particularly vexing she'd roll her eyes and wish she could run away, but he had been in better spirits since they began their journey she thought.

"I wonder if Ms. Viscomi could be persuaded to allow more sightseeing," she mused to herself quietly as her eyes drifted over the soft colors of the sky beyond the glass. Rhiane didn't have control over her diet nor her itinerary. Idly she considered it could be seen as a positive indulgence if they didn't just meet the people but also saw more of the national landmarks. There were architectural masterpieces, natural wonders, and breathtaking views that drew tourists that Rome's princess elect had never seen in person. Most of these spots were a source of pride for the locals. The crown wanted to warm the public to the newly engaged couple, but perhaps an argument could be made that a visit to attractions would encourage nationalism and be considered firm endorsements by royalty.

The Betrothed

"- you, there's something different," one of Rhiane's female bodyguards was saying.

Two women had been appointed to the security detail for the princess elect when the decision was made to bolster their numbers to match Luke's. While the queen could not and would not admit aloud why she had chosen them, it was undoubtedly because there were places Tobias could not easily follow Rhiane, and since the poisoning incident they were reluctant to let her even use the bathroom by herself while in public. Both women had their accolades as guards at the palace but did not hold a candle to Tobias; they remained his subordinates even in their elevated positions.

"I haven't noticed anything amiss," the other female bodyguard responded skeptically. They were towards the center of the plane and seated in adjacent chairs conversing in hushed tones. The first to speak was Lia and the latter Octavia. Both were of aristocratic backgrounds, Lia's slightly more prestigious, and relatively good friends with one another. Neither had noticed Luke striding out of the room and possibly near their vicinity as they bent their heads together.

"He just looks at her differently. It's subtle but he... I don't know, he watches her intently, and not just because it's his job. Don't you think it's tragic? Half of the castle would be happy to be with him and the one woman he might have the mildest hint of feelings for and she's taken," Lia lamented. She was among his admirers even though she was wed. Like the royals her marriage had been a political arrangement, not a union born out of love.

"I think you're imagining things," Octavia sighed. "The person I feel most sorry for is Prince Luke," she whispered to Lia.

"Marrying a peasant," Lia remarked with a sad shake of her head. "They tested everyone thoroughly in the contest, and as nice as she is, I find it hard to believe an exceptional farmer is better than any lady he could find in the capital." What she was suggesting was unkind but the popular opinion in the palace and the upper echelons of high society. While they stopped short of accusing her outright, they thought Rhiane was less intelligent, less beautiful, less clever, less artistic, less everything of matter. To consider her their equal or better was so uncomfortable it edged on blasphemy. It did not matter objectively if Rhiane could beat them in a hundred tests- their bias had to persevere and they had to be better.

"I'll speak with the farmers of course, but you didn't come here to ask me to speak with them," Rhiane said to Ms. Viscomi once Luke had disappeared beyond the threshold of the door. She knew the answer before it left her lips. All the world knew that the princess elect was a farmer before she had been catapulted to national fame as fiancee to the heir to the throne. This stop would be less spectacular than its predecessors; there was a passive expectation in having a former former speak with farmers from another province. Newscasters could even potentially find the scenario boring. At the same time, the media would latch onto the absence of Prince Luke. They would see it as a sign of rejection of Rhiane's past, of her prior peers, of her upbringing, and some of the citizens most likely to join the rebellion.

"I take responsibility for being uncomfortable with public displays of affection, Ms. Viscomi, and I have seen some of the same criticism you have. Can you prepare a list for me of the names of the farmers I'll be meeting with as well as, if possible, a physical description? I think that it will go much smoother, and leave a positive impression, if I can try to commit their names to memory beforehand," Rhiane suggested with a smile.

"Yes, of course, but..." Ms. Viscomi began to protest. Her goal of trying to persuade Luke into addressing the farmers of Adrossa personally had not been met; furthermore, she had failed to elicit a promise from Rhiane she would help advocate on her behalf to the stubborn royal.

"You'll have to excuse me, Ms. Viscomi," Rhiane said as she stretched out her long limber legs and rose from her seat. Tobias turned from staring out the window. "I promise to review all the information you compile for me, but first I was invited into the cockpit by the prince, and I don't intend to refuse the offer. It is the queen's wish we become more familiar with one another is it not?" she said as she flashed a charming smile. As she moved forward to step out of the room Tobias did not follow. Rhiane was safe on the plane and it was quite evident that this was a private affair in which he would be imposing regardless of how silent and stoic he remained.

"Of course, Miss Rhiane," Luce agreed with slightly more forced enthusiasm. There was no easy way to object. She had pointed out a lack of intimacy not even a minute ago. To keep Rhiane locked in conversation would impede the rendezvous at the front of the plane and make her a hypocrite, something she was not eager to do. If she contradicted herself even once both Luke and Rhiane would latch on and twist it to their advantage when a future critique was called into question.

The Betrothed

Rhiane had been combing through articles, blogs, blurbs in social columns of editorial pages, and the like for reviews of how well-received she had been the day prior. While she knew that this was something that Ms. Viscomi was already constantly monitoring in her capacity as their PR advisor and coordinator, she liked to see with her own eyes what others were saying. Moreover, she knew that the focus of the queen and therefore her employees was on how Rome in particular was reacting to the newly engaged pair. Not only did Rhiane want the details of exactly what her country's people said about her, she wanted to know the impression of international citizens, who were harder to understand but incredibly candid. Commoners in other nations did not have to worry about Queen Camilla intervening if they wrote a large volume of negative comments. The queen was powerful but not so much so that she had free reign upon all the world's inhabitants written words.

Almost everything she could find was a glowing endorsement of her disposition, her humor, her humility, or other personality aspects that were found to be endearing, but there was one consistent criticism in those that had any: absence of affection. It was not abnormal for anyone to doubt that Rhiane and Luke were madly in love with one another. In their heart of hearts everyone knew that it was at least a partially fabricated fairy tale; however, if they were trying to sell the public on love, the public would at least want glimpses of infatuation. Much as Rhiane would prefer to blame Luke, simply to preserve her pride, she knew she was just as at fault for this crack in their polished image (if not more).

The young woman had sworn off romantic fantasies and forced herself to become even more pragmatic than she already was after the death of her mother and father. With stalwart dedication she never let physical intimate encounters infringe upon her feelings. Men had used her and she had used them to fulfill a need, nothing more, and she made herself view it as no different then wanting to eat, drink, or sleep. What had changed was that she had pretend she was in love with Luke. This already a difficult task before she got to know him well, but she had erroneously assumed because she found him attractive, because he was intelligent, because he was invested in the illusion of marital bliss they would come to an easy arrangement that suited them both.

Now she had to admit in that facet of becoming princess elect she was failing. Today it was a vague statement buried in paragraphs of praise, only spoken by every hundredth person, sandwiched between compliments about how she was the princess everyone had been waiting for to represent them, but it wouldn't be such a trivial concern for long. In a few more weeks the raised brows and hard stares would grow. By the time the wedding actually rolled around the indifference they had, the distance, the barely-friends aura would be even more apparent.

But what was even worse than being unable to act as if she was in love- at least so convincingly that people could be convinced it had miraculously occurred in an arranged marriage- was that she didn't want to pretend with Luke. He was handsome, he was clever, he was thoughtful, and he was charming when it suited him, and could have been a genuine Prince Charming; but Luke was only warm when circumstances forced him to be. Luke didn't like Rhiane and she would rather not fight for his consideration. If he loved another woman, or man, or no one at all, there was nothing she could do about it. Trying to earn his approval was a battle she would rather not join, and would instead rather spearhead initiatives for better medical care for the poor, scholarships for those with ambition but dwelling in poverty, funding for the arts so that their culture could thrive under more than just the aristocrats.

Rhiane was so lost in thought she was startled when Luke approached and addressed her. She almost jumped out of her seat in surprise before taking a deep breath and gaining her composure. There was no reason for her to feel guilty about anything, she reasoned, and definitely no reason to be uncomfortable around her fiance.

"Aren't you supposed to be flying the plane?" she teased as she powered off her device to give him her full attention. "It wouldn't kill you to get some sleep," she suggested lightly, "I can't actually sleep enough for both of us to be rested, even if that's what it feels like I've been doing."

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"If this man is a thorn in your side like you suggest, you've surely already come up with more than one plan to deal with him and his forces. You wouldn't offer to help if you didn't already have some notion as what would tip the odds in your favor," Solae observed shrewdly. Her words were calm and measured yet pleasant; she was not trying to chastise him but rather put into perspective that her youth did not make her naive.

Ten was no different than an aristocrat in that he did mental calculations with each and every interaction. He would not be a successful businessman if he could not do constant risk assessments and analyses, as well as be able to improvise solutions to urgent issues that could cause a pitfall if not immediately addressed. Solae had no doubt her arrival had been a surprising turn of events. They had not known they would go to Zatis until they had set the course, so unless Ten was harboring precognitive abilities the universe had never seen, the criminal had not anticipated them crossing his path. What she was wagering on was that his cunning mind had been churning as soon as he set eyes upon them. Now that time had passed and they were eating dinner he might have a plot. Perhaps it was imperfect, perhaps it was just invented, but it existed nonetheless.

"Your talent was wasted in that embassy on New Concordia," Ten mused aloud as a small smile alighted on his features. Picking up his fork he dissected a piece of fresh fruit, carefully stabbed it, deposited it in his mouth, chewed thoughtfully, and then responded. "While I do have a plan in mind to help you..." he began.

"With all due respect, Ten, it would benefit us both. I do not mean to be rude, but you wouldn't be helping us achieve our goal out of selfless benevolence. You have things to gain as well as you have already explained," Solae boldly pointed out. Rene tensed slightly as if he suspected this might ire their host but he remained unperturbed. If anything he found it amusing that Solae had so much courage, such an intimate understanding the players, and the wisdom to know her candor would not be construed as a threat.

"The plan in mind that would help us all," Ten corrected with a slight polite incline of the head to Solae, "would require both your assistance and cooperation. Until now my resources would not favor a direct assault on Ralch, I believe you could help tip the odds as it were. More specifically I theorize that if Solae assumes her mantle of Marquise Falia to access the local cache we could recruit a few parties that are on the fence as to whether or not to intervene. As for Rene, I believe your expertise as a soldier might more efficiently guide my own assets when we are forced to draw weapons."

"I don't know anything of this cache you keep referencing," Solae said skeptically, "Even if I did, how can you be certain that I will be able to access it? Thus far Duke Tan has prevented the spread of information from New Concordia. Any protocols that might be in place upon the deaths of my parents would not yet be activated because, as far as Zatis is aware, they have not yet been declared dead."

"There is a bank in the medical district that allows you a small safety deposit box that can be accessed with a very rigorous series of tests. Any items in the box are destroyed if the owner dies with no instructions as to the next of kin, and the contents are often destroyed if there is suspected illegal access," Ten explained casually.

"And you think this is where the cache is?" Solae asked with obvious doubt in her voice.

"No, I believe the location of the vault is located in a box there. The boxes have technology that allows them to incinerate the contents- within certain parameters- remotely by the banking staff. They are not the best solution for items of great value, but they are for sensitive information you might want accessed under certain circumstances."

"So it's a method of setting a contingency plan," Solae sighed. It sounded like something her parents might do- especially her father- if they thought they might meet an untimely end and did have this fabled vault. The only reason she was even entertaining the thought this mythical treasure trove of incriminating evidence existed was because Ten was so confidently factual. He wouldn't waste anyone's time, most of all his own, on a mere whim.

"It requires a blood test, both hand prints, a full body scan, and a short questionnaire with rapid fire questions you must answer in ten seconds or less," Ten elaborated. "Needless to say this can not be done with a corpse or easily faked- if at all. To the best of my knowledge it has not been breached since they have started the four-step verification process."

"And you want to go there after we eat?" Solae asked.

"By the empire, no. Zatis is an unusual place. It is extraordinarily busy in the afternoon and at night, when most indulge their vices one way or another, and is less crowded in the early morning hours. I would suggest that we set out shortly before dawn. Almost no one willingly goes out at such an hour so you'll attract the least attention then. The bank operates with discretion so they will not alert Duke Tan or his goons that you were there, if at all. In the interim I recommend you get some rest. I have a spare bedroom for you to share unless you require separate bedchambers. I will have my staff prepare some clothing for both of you as well as a wig if you will wear it. Without your golden hair visible it should be easy to get to the bank without issue. It's what will come after that will be considerably more challenging."

The Betrothed

The morning brought the medical team who, after much debate about waking their sleeping patient and royal fiance, reluctantly came into the room to run a battery of tests. Although Rhiane had been cleared last night they did not want to rest on the figurative laurels of victory. Before discharging their patient they drew more blood, swabbed her throat, checked her nasal passageway, and performed a comprehensive exam. They all knew that the queen would come down on them so hard they would wish for their own deaths if they sent the princess elect into the world only to have her collapse due to poor health that could have been conceivably prevented. Losing a patient was always a tragedy for a physician. Losing a patient on worldwide broadcast, and thereby obliterating the reputation of their kingdom and country, would be catastrophic.

Their worry was for naught. Despite having an intense dislike for medicine in general, Rhiane was relatively healthy. Sebastian's instructions to heed the doctors kept her compliant enough for the process to be expedient. Elena Villani, who was not an individual to be intimidated, gave thorough instructions for a modified diet for Rhiane. Not trusting that the former farmer would be completely faithful to it- she was not ignorant to the brunette's love of food- she copied it to Luke, Queen Camilla, Tobias, and the head of the attache that would be seeing to the newly engaged couple's accommodations over the next several weeks. The latter was not given an explanation for the dietary concerns that Rhiane suddenly developed for the next several days, nor why she was under a doctor's care (Elena knew he did not have the clearance), but she knew he would not question the implied authority she held.

In addition to some oral steroids to expedite the healing process she was to gradually re-introduce strong acids to her digestive system. This displeased the princess elect. She'd have to temper her love of spices, of citrus, and of vinegar-based salad dressing until mid-week. Elena was not concerned about having heartburn or acid reflux, but rather preserving the more raw lining of Rhiane's esophagus. Very fortunately the muscle should heal quickly. It was a minor inconvenience given the life-and-death battle that had waged the night prior but Rhiane was a touch grumpy. The sheer thought of missing out on a local delicacy during their trip was a travesty.

As to the rebellion's intentions towards her, and the part they did or did not play in her poisoning, Rhiane remained oblivious. Anyone that might treat her differently she attributed to other events: they were legitimately charmed by her demeanor, they felt compassion towards her struggles, they pitied her, or in the event of servants they felt camaraderie for her as a peer who grew up under less than ideal circumstances. The palace had heirs of lesser known aristocrats sworn to the crown, but that did not free them from the disillusionment that could come from being socially immobile in their caste, and sympathetic to someone of a similar plight.

The only visible impact Luke's discovery had on anyone besides himself was that their retinue underwent another furtive security check and additional loyalists were added to ensure that no revolutionaries would be able to 'access' Rhiane on the tour. If there were infiltrators in the castle itself it stood to reason that they had more presence, more cunning, and more resources than previously calculated. The possibility of a kidnapping occurring had been laughable. Now that an assassination attempt had happened at an elite, private event meant they had to prepare for both avenues of attack: abduction or murder. Rhiane's security detail were still largely under Tobias's direction, as her personal bodyguard, but they now rivaled the number of men that would accompany Luke to an official public event.

The first day of their tour catered to Rhiane's interests although not by design; they visited the studios and independent galleries of artisans and artists outside the capital. None of the citizens had works eligible for consideration in the castle proper but their craft was held in high regard by the local populace. Undoubtedly this 'stop' had been planned in an attempt to appeal not only to commoners but also to suggest they had upward mobility into the higher rungs of society. The harsh reality was that very few, if any, truly did, but the fantasy had to endure to keep the status quo. Rhiane engaged with their guides and hosts with uninhibited enthusiasm and passion. She asked specific questions, praised every piece of pottery and oil painting of landscape, and let almost everyone solicit her for photographs. Tobias at first tried to keep her from involving herself quite so much but once it became apparent she wouldn't cede to his control and it was garnering extremely positive PR, she was allowed to exchange stories, ask them for advice, and even purchase a few smaller items that she had intentions of sending home to her family. One reporter following at their heels was so enamored with this choice they could overhear her describing Rhiane as having a "heart of gold."

The focus was so fixated on Rhiane that any polite disinterest by Luke was easily overlooked. What was also very easily missed (or dismissed) was that there was little to no physical affection between the pair. Unless Luke went out of his way to hold her hand, kiss her cheek, or wrap an arm around her shoulders, she did not initiate any such gestures herself. No one expected this of her necessarily, but its absence would become more odd in a few weeks, especially if they were supposed to be infatuated with one another. In private she maintained this same sort of respectful distance. Rhiane was friendly and went out of her way to make it clear to the press she thought of Luke fondly, but he knew perhaps better than anyone else she was not an intimate companion, and she seemed to hold her feelings out of reach of them both. As tempestuous as she was the farmer was not without discipline in certain avenues of her life. The masses would have been appalled to know she could be bribed more easily by a slice of cake than a sweet kiss from her future husband.

Day two of the tour was much like the first. Instead of touring artisans they went to see members of the oft-mentioned 'middle class' who worked in large buildings, in impersonal cubicles, and were viewed as 'worker bees' by their superiors. This was a stark departure from organizing an event with the CEOs and presidents of such businesses. Breakfast took place at a hotel that emptied their banquet halls to accommodate the the crowed of programmers, engineers, accountants, salesman, secretaries, and the like. Lunch was at a park- which troubled Tobias greatly because such an open space seemed more dangerous- and their audience was much the same. Some smaller business owners were randomly selected from a pool to have the honor of an official visit. Rhiane continued to be her charming self. Each woman that shook her hand was also bestowed a compliment about her complexion, hair, dress, or eyes, and similarly gentlemen were gifted the same, though she took care not to make the flattery seem inappropriate. In conversation she asked about their careers, their schooling, their spouses, their children, and, most importantly, cared about their answers. If someone cut off the answer of a colleague she would gently scold them and allow the first person to continue.

The reporters' coverage of Rhiane continued to be flattering. She was seen as humble and engaged rather than haughty or distant. The largest scandal was that a few male admirers were caught on camera confessing that they were jealous of her arrangement with the prince. Luke had his love-stricken fanbase as well, which were swooning over his chiseled features and sharp attire, but it had been quite some time since there was a young introduction to the royalty. That Rhiane was wanted, perhaps even coveted, was a novelty that sold airtime and publications. Becoming a national object of desire felt silly to the subject in question herself, even if the had cultivated a sultry image during the contest, and she laughed uncomfortably during the footage of the would-be suitors.

Day three was to be their last day in an urban area before they moved to industrial sectors and rural towns. Thematically it was a day focused on education. They toured schools with awards for excellence with a trail of cameras following behind. In the elementary school that had been selected Rhiane absolutely insisted on reading a children's book personally. The principal summoned some of the other classes and the soon-to-be princess had a crowd of five-year-olds crowded around on carpet. She was more at ease than the teachers, half of which were awestruck and red-faced, and used silly voices during her reading to help earn the approval of her audience. A few girls and a couple boys boldly raised their hand for an informal Q&A with mundane questions like what color she was wearing to the wedding ("It's a surprise!"), how old she was ("Just a little older than you are!"), and what kind of cookies were her favorite ("Chocolate with chocolate chips and chocolate chunks!"). The schools for older children were just as awkwardly stunned with teenagers trying to discreetly ogle the royal of the opposite sex. Rhiane was gracious with the administrators, telling them anecdotes of her adolescence, about how she tried to find loopholes in the rules, how she wanted to be a on boys' sports team, how they sometimes called her older brothers down to her classroom if she was unruly. These innocuous little stories helped to make people forget, albeit temporarily, that she'd become co-ruler someday and was not just a woman they met for lunch. When they all laughed at her argument about what color to paint the sky when she was eight there was no pretense of formality.

But Rhiane didn't have quite the stamina that Luke possessed. While she was the darling of the nation during the day, at night she barely made it through dinner without yawning. Each evening she would drape herself on the most convenient piece of furniture and pass out given the chance. Fortunately she was so exhausted that her regular nightmares did not plague her. Unfortunately, this meant either Tobias or Luke had to cart her to an appropriate place for sleep since rousing her was next to impossible. Given time she would adjust to this new schedule, but until her body stopped waking her before dawn for the fields she no longer tended, she dead weight once her eyelids drifted close.

The Betrothed

Rhiane had spent almost all of the first half an hour of the movie splitting her time between watching the story being woven and wolfing down her meal. The nurse checked in once, whispering to Luke it was good she was consuming so much since the poison had effected her digestive tract, and that eating was far better for building strength than anything that could be provided intravenously. The attendant had also checked her vitals once over and marked her chart. While the medical team was still on high alert for potential complications they were satisfied for the moment that the recovery was going smoothly. The princess-elect was visibly uncomfortable with all this attention from physicians and associated professionals but she did not try to rebuff them. Sebastian's chastisement had retained its effectiveness.

After two hours she had begun to droop slightly. Unfolding scenes elicited a wide range of reactions: confusion during the romance, excitement during the action, bafflement during a portion of the drama, shock when it was revealed the entire ship was sinking and that it was woefully unprepared to save everyone aboard. The woman had honestly professed to her royal fiance before she didn't believe she was capable of finding true love. It was this same unfamiliarity, how utterly foreign the emotions it evoked were, that led to her being puzzled or annoyed at the choices of Rose in particular. A few times she shook her head in disbelief but she did not interrupt by saying anything aloud. The pre-war film had been made with the assumption the audience wouldn't be as firmly a stranger to romantic experience as Rhiane Black.

By the two-and-a-half-hour mark, she was struggling to stay awake, although this was not the movie's fault. The nurse had come in twice more, changed her IV bag, and administered a mild sedative when Rhiane wasn't looking to help her rest better. It wouldn't force the future queen into sleep but it would help her sleep more deeply when she allowed herself to drift off. Rhiane was determined to see Titanic all the way through and kept shifting herself in the bed or opening her eyes wider than necessary to keep her focus. Now that it was clear the movie was centered on a tragic finish about a rich woman and a poor boy she was sad to see the cruiser sink; it was her favorite character thus far.

Luke's phone rang again; this time it was his security force providing a second update on their investigation. The end of Titanic was less than half an hour away but Rhiane had started to lightly doze. She had begun by laying flat on her back, her arms at her sides, the same position she had been put it when she was first moved to the bed. As her eyelids had fluttered shut she had rolled to her side unconsciously, facing Luke, close to the edge but in no danger of falling off her luxurious mattress. Even her breathing had slowed to a measured easy rhythm that denoted she was at peace as her slumbering face suggested. When in the realm of dreams the sultry, assertive, stubborn farmer looked like the innocent maidens she had to distance herself from.

"Your highness," the security force man greeted once he had been permission to speak. It was the very same once that he had conversed with earlier in discussion of the deceased waiter.

"We've discovered some correspondence between the waiter and what appears to be another member of the rebellion. I will send copies to your device immediately, but I wanted to warn you of their contents beforehand. It appears that the waiter was arguing with another individual about what course of action to take with regards to Princess Elect Rhiane. The waiter wished to have her killed to further their cause."

The man took a deep breath before continuing on. "While this is good news, your highness, the individual he was sending messages to indicates there are several rebellion sympathizers or members- he calls them 'our people'- already within the castle. No names are given and we are still tracing the individual the waiter was speaking with. Our analysts say that these messages have multiple layers of encryption hindering our process. From the word choice we believe it is possible this other individual might not necessarily know who or how many infiltrators there are, just that they exist, since he failed to boast about their numbers."

The nurse had gone back into the room while Luke was taking his call and tried very gently to help Rhiane roll to her back once more. Despite her efforts Rhiane would not stay on her back; as soon as the nurse's hand left her shoulder she had rolled to the same side without so much as stirring. The nurse was clearly frustrated but short of restraint- which was not warranted- she couldn't make the brunette comply. Realizing that they would have to make do she began to delicately tug at wires so they were not tangled under Rhiane's limbs, torso, or hair, and that she could continue to be monitored through the night.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"What brings you to Zatis?" Ten asked pointedly as he served a thick slice of marinated meat to Solae. It was a polite gesture, selecting one of the best cuts with the least amount of spice that might overwhelm a sensitive palate, and a motion that would not have been out of place in the courts. While he was following etiquette it was not because it had become ingrained or there were mindful bystanders. Ten was proper simply because he wished to be in the current company. Regardless of how much his guests might doubt his intentions, he genuinely was interested in at least the marquise seated next to him, and would rather be her ally than a disliked acquaintance.

"Thank you," Solae said before hesitating a moment. Trusting Ten was a high risk, the very embodiment of danger, but had the most potential for guaranteeing their success out of everyone they had met. This self-proclaimed criminal had more resources at his disposal than all the individuals they had talked to on New Concordia combined. That he had utilized this power to save rather than crush them underfoot she took as a positive sign. "We came here for the PEA."

"The PEA?" Ten asked with raised brows and mild surprise. As he settled back into his chair and churned over the notion in his thoughts he nodded. With careful precision he began to slice into a starchy orange vegetable that had been grilled with a light char blackening its edges. It was one of the many fragrant healthier choices available for their meal. "You wish to reach someone in another sector, I presume, for assistance?"

"Duke Tan has started a rebellion and has put out a bounty, almost certainly because he can not function a PEA without me. It is a race of sorts," Solae admitted, "to whether he will capture me first to send out his missive or if I will to alert the empress of his treason."

"He always was a prideful idiot," Ten said with a barking laugh and dismissive shake of his head. More to assuage than Rene than Solae he put up his hand as he steadied his emotions quickly. It was more disconcerting that he could shift from jovial chuckles to a stern and serious expression than almost anything else he had done thus far. Even the most well-composed aristocrats may not be able to do so in the blink of eye as he had so effortlessly accomplished. "This does not change anything for me, soldier. I would not give Duke Tan the name of my least-valued asset, much less hand them over. Solae is safe here."

"Do you know Duke Tan personally?" Solae inquired tentatively.

"No, but I hear things and know things by my trade," Ten replied. "The empress has a legitimate claim to the throne and everything that she could need to be successful, yet by every objective measurement she is having difficulty keeping the Stellar Empire intact and at peace. Do you think Duke Tan will stop his coup with this sector? Do you think he is better suited for rule than the empress or, for that matter, anyone on Cappella? He has ambition but he is overestimating himself. Millions, perhaps billions, will die no matter whether he takes you or not, and he will never have the glory of the empress." Confident in his judgment Ten served himself a helping of a fruit with a thin purple outer skin and a bright red juicy interior not unlike native Earth citrus varieties, though this was a touch more sour.

"Can you help us?" Solae asked since they had launched the conversation with an immediate dispensing of small talk.

"I could," Ten answered truthfully, "but I do not know we will have a congruence of methods. What do you intend to do if you are able to send your message to the empress or her representative?"

"You ask that question because you have something in mind?" Solae countered shrewdly.

"Your reputation does not do you justice, my dear, but indeed. I would see you assume your inheritance as soon as possible in exchange for my assistance in getting you to the PEA," he explained as if they were discussing the weather rather than life-and-death political chess. "With you truly the keeper of secrets as your parents were I will feel much relieved, as we will be able to secure them from falling into the wrong hands. I am sure Rene would appreciate that as well as, while I am not privy to the intimate details of the cache, they are likely to shed some light on the past."

Satisfied that he now had his male companion's attention he moved a slice of decadent cake, oozing with chocolate, caramel, and similar confections, to his plate and smiled. "The PEA is under the control of the local diplomatic office. It gives me no pleasure to tell you that they do not have your moral scruples, but this might make you agree with the easiest plan to gain access to the PEA and all the time we need to see if you can make it function."

"You want to kill him, don't you?" Solae ventured candidly.

"I do."

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

Ten motioned for his passengers to exit the vehicle as he clambered out himself. He was an odd fellow by all accounts. The criminal moved with a practiced grace and fluidity as he stepped onto the paved ground, which had a dull sheen under the lights above, but he was also unassuming rather than using this poise to give an air of passive dominance. His garage proved that he had great wealth but Ten's clothing was neither expensive nor inexpensive. To the casual observer he was strikingly ordinary. He did not dress all in black like a thief, but was also not ostentatious; that was the true secret to his success undoubtedly. Aristocrats and commoners alike paid attention to someone that was dirty, poor, and suspiciously covered, and they paid attention to the well-groomed, rich, and decadent attired. Ten was neither of these. By maintaining an air of banality it was almost impossible to notice him, much less recall him later in great detail. Solae could almost imagine describing him to law enforcement officials. Tall, but not freakishly tall, dark hair and eyes, medium build, shirt and slacks, no visible scars or tattoos, no identifying facial features or marks.

"Is Cristeta here yet?" he called out to no one in particular.

"Miss Cristeta is waiting for you in the drawing room," a clinical male voice retorted from one of the speakers camouflaged into the walls.

"This way," Ten motioned. Solae hesitated but, after glancing towards Rene, followed their host. If he had wanted to harm them he had ample opportunity to do so, and he could have also easily delivered them to someone aligned with Duke Tan's interests. That he was taking precaution to keep her hidden meant at least, for now, she had a tenuous amount of trust in the mysterious broker. He had professed his loyalty to the Falias and thus far had acted with sincerity towards that fidelity. She knew nothing of this 'vault' she mentioned but having a reason for his alliance that was reasonable and practical gave her an ounce of faith.

Through a pair of double doors on the north side of the garage was a tastefully decorated hallway. Lord Armon and the slaver's mansion were displays of ego and prestige but Ten's dwelling was neither. The wooden floors below their feet were exquisite, and the framed paintings on their left and right worth a small fortune, but it was all done for Ten's enjoyment only. No strange sculptures obstructed their walkway, not everything was coated in gold or another fine metal, and there was no furniture that suggested it was a congregating space for when he entertained. It was reminiscent of the style of nobility that was so secure in themselves they no longer took an effort to prove their station.

"On your left," Ten instructed. He stepped around Solae and opened the door for her amicably.

Inside the drawing room was a large marble fireplace that saw little use, a large ornate woven rug in shades of crimson, muted gold, and shades of both black and brown, a sofa upholstered in an animal skin more luxurious than leather, and accompanying wooden chairs upholstered in a silk stripe fabric. More intriguing than any of this, however, were the large bookcases that dominated the wall opposite the door. Tomes, delicate figurines, and scrolls of parchment were displayed behind a protective glass that allowed view but disallowed handling.

"Cristeta, this is my guest for which I requested your expertise," Ten remarked as he strode towards a cabinet in the corner and pulled out a large decanter of amber liquid as well as a trio of glasses. "Do not worry yourselves over Cristeta," he assured Rene and Solae casually as he ran a hand through his hair. When it was disheveled it had made him look to be in perhaps his late twenties, but now that it had been smoothed back away from his forehead he had a regal maturity of someone in their mid-thirties at least. "Cristeta is a woman with discretion. My associates with loose lips do not last long. Would you like a drink, soldier?"

"Ten, I appreciate your help but we need..." Solae began.

"It can wait until Cristeta makes sure you are well and there is no further aid she can give you. You can use another room if you would like some privacy," he suggested. "Or you can stay here if it will make you more comfortable. As Cristeta can attest I have no interest in either of you other than discussion."

"His taste is in older men," Cristeta whispered to Solae discreetly, though Ten did not seem to mind if she broadcast it to the entire sector. It was her sense of propriety that made her hesitant to talk about such things too loudly. "Much older men," she emphasized.

[MxF] (Mature; 18+) Looking for Long Term Partner

I think I am down to one current RP partner, so I am entertaining picking up another RP!

Please DM me if you are interested. And don't feel constrained to my plots- I am happy to consider more than what I have listed here. If you have a burning desire for a story you haven't found an appropriate partner for, but think I could be a good fit, let me know! The most important thing to me really is communication and someone who will stick around past the first few posts.

Much love to Penny and Kymera if they see this!

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"We need to get you medical attention," the mystery man said half to himself and half to Solae, who was leaning against the window of the aircar.

Her side was burning from where she had been grazed but the pain did not concern her as much as the events that had just transpired. There was a bounty on her head she knew, yet Duke Tan needed her alive to access the PEA, and the mercenary woman had been undeniably shooting to kill the marquise rather than debilitate. The last few days had forced the diplomat to confront her mortality. Dying from injuries sustained in risky escapades with Rene was a distinct possibility- but it was a choice. They had elected to save the enslaved Syshin, to steal the Bonvanture, to run headlong into danger knowing the risk. The would-be assassin did afford her any choices. Had this stranger not intervened she could have been murdered in cold blood without any agency, without choice, without even the knowledge of why she was being targeted now and to what ends.

"Cristeta," the man said as he pushed a button to his left. The screen between the driver's seat and the passenger seat lit up but there was no visual of the woman being summoned. Instead of being greeted with a digital display of her face there was only a solid green line indicating a connection and moving blue waves that indicated the tone and pitch of the voice being transmitted. "I need you to meet me at my safe house on Kadiev."

"Understood," the other side responded. "What sort of injury do I need to pack for?"

The man put a finger to his lips to indicate Solae and Rene should stay quite before he replied. "It's not for me. A young woman in her twenties who was grazed by a plasma bolt. I'd like you to make preparations to also give her a proper check-up and none of your assistants this time. It's in our best interests we act with the utmost discretion this time, Cristeta. Our ETA is about twenty minutes."

"I'll see you then, Ten," she said hastily before ending the call. One could only presume this meant she had little time to make her way to the safe house mentioned before their helpful companion would be considering her tardy. The entire exchange had a passive sense that the 'good Samaritan' was in a higher position than the physician either in terms of wealth, socially, and/or politically. He was not overly condescending to her but he was definitely giving orders he expected to be obeyed.

"Who are you? Is your name Ten?" Solae asked once the call had been obviously terminated.

"Ten is the name I go by but obviously not my real name," he stated calmly. "I had my suspicions when New Concordia went dark that something happened to you or your parents, but I am relieved to see that you are well. You must be the soldier I've heard rumors about traveling with Solae," he to Rene.

"I am," Rene confirmed with more than a little suspicion. No one wanted to look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth but this man was still suspicious enough that he was keeping his guard up. Just because he and Solae were safe now was no guarantee that Ten's motivations might not shift and convince him to betray them for the lofty rewards offered.

"Why are you helping us?" Solae demanded with thinly veiled frustration as she favored her side.

"That is an excellent question but there is not an easy answer for it I'm afraid," Ten said smoothly. "Your parents, grandparents, and generations before them have been active in the courts of the empire. What I doubt they told you was that their ties were not limited to business arrangements with other nobility. The Falias have been collecting information since before they even realized what they were doing. People like to share with the Falias because they are charming, trustworthy, loyal, and judicious- you do not hear of the Falias using their clout to topple dynasties simply because they can. Some opportunists would rather see you dead than have you inherit the fortune of secrets the Falias keep and store. I would much rather help you now and ensure that no one else finds the skeletons in my closet. That and I rather liked your parents. They were eccentric individuals but shrewd and sensible, which is more than I can say for most of their standing."

"The Falias keep secrets?" Solae asked mystified. "What sort of secrets?"

"They know much I imagine- everything from the illegitimate children of the upper class and their torrid affairs to the crimes that have been committed, known and unknown, against each other and the general populace. I've no doubt that if Duke Tan hears about this cache he will try to exploit it to undermine the Empress's power, though a man like him must have his own secrets, or family secrets, to which the Falias are privy."

"Were my parents... criminals?" the marquise asked quietly.

"No, not at all. They listened but to the best of my knowledge they didn't dabble in illicit trade. If anything it likely taught them about how easily destroyed a duke or duchess could be if the truth about them was exposed. They had the wisdom of caution from what I've heard. I am, however, a criminal," Ten remarked casually.