Dimitri and Isabella - on tour
 

((*bliiiiiiiiiiiinks* Wow, that was unexpected. Mercy Does Not Approve, so the Prince best beware. XD

Ruby mentioned missing the morning announcement in her post, I believe, so I think we can all assume Annelise and Silvius decided to skip the announcement and head straight for the gardens.

Shenan, you got Rukov spot on. Generally he's an obedient aid, but he knows when he can push his luck with his lord.))
______


“I do so anticipate the arrival of spring, I love the picture it paints of life returning to the seemingly dead trees, proving that any disaster is not eternal.” Although the Queen’s words were picture-perfect small talk, it was her appearance that Dimitri found himself focusing on: standing by the windows, the sun filtered through the frosted glass to bathe her in gentle streaks of pale light. It made her seem even younger than she already was, yet she stood tall, held upright by the experience of age. It was an image that jarred him and ate at him with annoying discomfort.

She turned to him, and Dimitri immediately smoothened the frown that shadowed his face.

“Spring is indeed magnificent, but I find winter a most undervalued season. It is a force to be reckoned with, making time stand still until the snow decides, finally, when it is satisfied; to thaw.” A thoughtful pause. His grey eyes were far-away, softened with memories. “Perhaps seeing it as the Great Preserver of Life, rather than the Great Destroyer, might make Your Majesty’s future winters more pleasant.”

Isabella was watching him. That disturbed him too. So the Duc smiled, dispelling the wistfulness in his features. “That is what I tell my youngest sister, because she mourns the winter too.” Women.

She seemed to give his words some thought, before clasping her hands together. “Shall we depart?”

They passed Rukov on the way down, who was openly staring and not trying in any way to keep himself hidden. As a result, the Queen immediately saw him. She continued speaking calmly, but when she did not see, the Duc gestured for him to make himself invisible. Rukov bowed deeply to them before sliding through a random door.

“I apologise if Rukov disturbs you, Your Majesty. He comes from a remote village in Russia, and the only women he has been exposed to have been dark-haired and rough-spoken. Clearly, he finds you extraordinary in comparison.” Dimitri’s tone switched from a long-suffering parent’s to firm assurance. “But he is simple, honest and will do you no harm.”

Isabella remained very gracious about Rukov: if his presence had disturbed her, he did not see it.

She proceeded to tell Dimitri about the nobles who inhabited the Eastern suites; Dimitri listened attentively, absorbing all she said and replying appropriately. But he was a multi-tasker at heart, and some part of his mind was still battling that odd sensation niggling at the back of his mind. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was, yet it was as familiar as the beating of his heart. Like a lost friend. Or an old enemy.

They were finished with the eastern Salons, passing the Grand Salon to the Throne Room, and conversing politely along the way. Dimitri recalled that morning’s announcement and shook his head. “I must say, I was quite surprised that the Comte d’Cognac received such an honour. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of his family for as long as I can remember—if not for their infamous sons, I suppose I wouldn’t have heard of them at all.”

He would have softened his disapproval, by saying that the former Comte must have performed extraordinarily in his absence to gain the Queen’s favour, but Dimitri turned to her before the words left his lips. Then he saw her expression, her posture, her eyes—there may have been something or nothing in them at all—but suddenly he knew. The niggling, discomforting emotion suddenly exploded into clarity. It was a feeling he had not experienced in over thirty years: the sensation of entering a war.

______

((...hmm, ending may be wee dramatic... XD))

((ooc;; Just popping in to tell you I haven't vanished from the face of the earth... I'm really sorry, but real life managed to really get in the way this past week or so, but everything seems back to normal now, so I'll put a post up when morning is called or so... love all the drama happening by the way...

Edit: Oh .. lol, I'll have a post up in a while then x.x Thanks Atropa...))

Octavien & Mercy - Octavien's Salon
 

Only seconds had passed since his somewhat reluctant confession, when Mercy rose, and strode towards him, suddenly showing almost the exact opposite of the mildness seen in the recent and gentle nod of her head as she had listened to his words. Now, she stood towering above him, and as she spoke - of the three things his answer had granted him, as far as she was concerned - she leant down. And threatened him. The words were quiet, almost inaudible, but Octavien still heard them loud and clear. Though had it not been for the gravity in her eyes, and the way she imposed herself on him, he most likely wouldn't have taken her seriously. It would be most foolish for anyone to threaten him, especially now, considering the circumstances, and he hadn't known Baroness Flight to be a foolish woman. Until her concern and loyalty towards Isabella made her one.

Yet, despite the threat, which made his temper instantly flare, he couldn't help but to smirk inwardly. So... Posing no danger to him one minute, and then threatening to kill him the next? She made herself into quite a walking contradiction. Even more so when she finished her minor monologue, and scooped up his hand to plant upon it a kiss - the proper sign of respect one would've expected her to have given already when she walked into the room - after being familiar to the point of blatant rudeness by addressing him by his first name. Among other things.

Then she stood back, apparently having said her peace, and as she started making her way out of the room, she added yet another ingredient to the mix; calm and almost chilling courtesy, in the form of a statement that, under the circumstances, sounded rather bland and deatched.

It all just managed to leave Octavien with the feeling of having been thoroughly toyed with, and forced into submission. And he did not like it. Her choice of positioning herself right infront of him and bending down to look him straight in the eye, had prevented him from rising from his seat himself and show the proper authority. Had he been one bit less of a gentleman, he would've stood anyway, even if it meant pushing her away. But he was a firm believer of treating a lady like a lady, even if she herself did not act like one.

However, he was not about to leave her thinking he tolerated a behaviour such as hers. He would not have accepted it as a Comte, he would not have accepted it as a Baron, or even an untitled, and he sure would not accept it as a Prince. He had been nothing but cordial and kind to her, but now, all he had to offer her was the same neutral courtesy she had just shown him, sprinkled with unveiled apprehension, as she had made it quite clear that even though they were both on Isabella's side, Mercy was not on his.

"I can understand your concern for her," he said as she waltzed out the doors. "I can even appreciate it. And so I shall take it as nothing more, and nothing less than just that. But be advised, it was the last time you spoke to me in such a manner. I do not take kindly to being threatened, no matter what the reason. And I assure you, Baroness, that whatever I choose to do in the future, it will be a choice made by my own heart, and not in fear of you, as I would rather be sincere with the target of your concern, rather than insult and betray her by playing games."



(((ooc: Because I was bored the other night, I made a little semi-crappy site for this RP, for those of you who may wish to share your characters, like me and Shenanigans. All you have to do it PM me, and we'll work out how to go about it. But anyway, if you're interested, you'll find the site here )))

Mercy clicked her teeth, as she disappeared from the Prince's little domain, so like a man, always having the last word. She herself was not best known for her subtlties, but she did wonder why people insisted on screwing up her dramatic exits. Well that was her most pressing concern dealt with and it was a secret she could not see herslef bringing up with another sole, unless it was in the most dire of circumstances.

She had been quite paradoxical in her talking however she had most certainly not contradicted herself, she had let him know as long as he remained a gentleman he had nothing to fear, but was he to be anything less then she would be a significant threat.

Sadly Mercy also realised whilst they both held power, they were both powerless to use it, Isabella was the reason they had for any dark feelings but also their reason for not proceeding. Mercy refused to pass on anything which could harm the young woman. And Atropa's only claim to power, she now knew, was through the Queen, a power he was unlikely to use against an untouchable such as Mercy. It was a stalemate, that would exist as long as they both cared for the same woman in deed if the stalemate was ever broken the loyalties of which ever party would remove the dark shadow which now lay over the relationship between her and the Prince.

With her own safety permanently assured, Mercy could rest easily, she knew that whilst Octavien had claimed he would not be swayed by thoughts of her, she knew he would now think of her much more often, and as a very different person. She was inside his head and had no intention of leaving, afterall men had done all the damage they evr would to Baroness Mercy Flight, be it the ambassador, her son-in-law or any of the other numerous chauvanistic males she had encountered in her life.

((I always feel like such a bitch putting together Mercy's thought's, she has dellussions of grandeur and what does that say about yours truely? So i personally would like to apologise to Atropa for RPing such a... well... bitch!))

Isabella & Dimitri - Throne Room
 

((OOC: Just a quick apology if it seems I’m not around and it takes longer than usual for my replies. I’ve been very, very busy, and will continue to be for the next couple of days. But I still get on at night to hopefully reply to things… hmm… what should I start with.

I have to say Fay, that Mercy sure did surprise me. Quite interesting indeed! I hope Isabella never finds out. lol Only because I don’t know what she’ll do!

Seiza, your RP is just fine. We’ll have to see what Isabella thinks of it all.

Also for anyone who’s wondering. I didn’t yell at Fayreview for having Mercy know something no one should know about (Isabella and Octavien’s relationship) because this was the result of the first time our new scandal database was implimented. What Mercy knows is not public knowledge; it’s thanks to the new database. Not even the queen is safe with it around!

Glad to see you back funheart!

Oh… and I do hope to see some courtiers on Atropa’s website. Just think, you could download Isabella and get even for everything she’s ever done to your character. :handbag:

Okay, I think that’s it. On to my rp. ))



As they descended the stairs Isabella continued the polite idle chatter that she herself abhorred only because playing hostess on the most grandeur of scales was a part of the territory. She knew that if one was to enjoy the benefits of their place and title, one must also put up with the unpleasantries. So she continued despite the fact that Duc d’Lorraine’s aid was obviously staring at her. Granted, she had become used to people’s stares and glances. It was part of being the queen, plain and simple. But this Rukov seemed to stare with different eyes. If she had doubted the ability of her guards, or the decency of the Duc she would have been uncomfortable. No, the man wasn’t a threat, perhaps just a different type of admirer.

As if Dimitri had heard her thoughts in the most audible of manners, he soon reassured her. “I apologize if Rukov disturbs you, Your Majesty. He comes from a remote village in Russia, and the only women he has been exposed to have been dark-haired and rough-spoken. Clearly, he finds you extraordinary in comparison. But he is simple, honest and will do you no harm.”

Isabella simply continued her smile. In a most calm reassuring tone she spoke, “Perhaps we should find a portrait of mine for your poor aid to survey?” It had been her attempt to make light of the situation. “I assure you Duc, that he is not the first to lose his train of thought at the sight of me. I suppose this is quite an adventure for him. He must be very grateful for you to allow him to travel and see new worlds.”

As they walked along the East wing Isabella pointed out suites and paintings. Recalling historical facts that she had burned into her memory; it was almost as if it were second nature to her. It had gone rather uneventful until they entered the throne room. Isabella loved to just exist in the grandeur of that room, simply basking in the brilliance of it all and thought it was really rather underused. It is such a pity that Edouard was not fond of it. “I must say, I was quite surprised that the Comte d’Cognac received such an honor.”, the Duc began to speak. Immediately his words did not sit well with Isabella. They were words of challenge disguised in polite cordiality. She only knew them so well for she had uttered such words many times. Rather than interrupt the man to dispel his need of bewilderment she allowed him to continue, “I haven’t seen hide nor hair of his family for as long as I can remember – if not for their infamous sons, I suppose I wouldn’t have heard of them at all.”

As he turned to look towards her she stood her ground, not shying away from his gaze. In many ways it was as if she were looking in a mirror. Quite an absurd statement given the many years difference between the two of them, never mind the obvious differences in gender. While he boldly allowed his war scars to sit prominently on his face, not needing to cover them, Isabella had many scars of her own. Only it was not acceptable for her to allow hers to show. She was expected to keep them buried beneath masks of beauty, grace and elegance.

As their glances briefly sat upon each other, Isabella much felt as if she were a token on a chess board. Not only had their bodies entered a new room, his words ushered them into a game. A game of strategy and wit that Isabella had quite happily become an expert at. However she knew she could not underestimate this man, this new opponent. Previously she had played against mere novices. The Duc of Mollier was far too cocky for his own good, Duchess Marie far too wrapped up in the past. Each of them had been quite delusional as to the power they thought they wielded, it was easy to reveal just how little might they actually had.

However Duc d’Lorraine, he held no such delusions, this Isabella was certain of. Even if he had not realized the true nature of his words, if it had been unintentional, she was certain it was an unawareness that would be short lived. The only advantage Isabella possibly had, was that this was her home, familiar territory. It is far easier to defend than it is to assault. Something she knew the Duc was well aware of.

Instead of defensive words, or throwing accusations of her own, she simply smiled and began to slowly walk towards the royal thrones, particularly the seat that belonged to her. “Duc, you are a wise man, of that I have no doubt. I ask you to please, allow a simple woman to amuse herself with an analogy of sorts.”

Having reached the bottom stair of the platform that the thrones were on, she turned to face him again, looking for his acceptance. “I ask you to consider the diamond. By far it is one of the most brilliant of gems, most would state that it’s purity and beauty is unmatched by any of its peers. Such a glorious thing is not found by simply wandering eyes. Quite contrarily, men spend much energy, risking all they have in search of it. They believe that once they achieve their goal, once they have that precious gem in their hands, all their efforts will be rewarded. Even if they have to dirty their hands, the end result makes up for the means of accomplishing it.”

Isabella turned once again, to begin ascending the stairs to the thrones. “I am much like those men who will do anything for their diamond. This very kingdom is my gem, however I've no need to search for it. I simply must protect it.” Having had reached the throne, she now turned to sit upon it. “Even if I must dirty my hands.”, she continued as she lowered her body slowly and gracefully to sit upon her throne. Now she sat on the lavish velvet seat, her body erect and her head held high. “For some decisions that appear to have no rhyme or reason to many, are actually quite profound, and very deliberate and deserving. It is true Duc d’Cognac does not have a reputation any person with an ounce of sense would admire, but that is largely because the good deeds he has done do not reach any ears or eyes but mine.”

Isabella looked towards Dimitri, studying him. She wondered if he would enquire of her what Felix had done that deserved such a promotion. She had said her piece, and she had no quarrels with continuing if he asked politely for more information. She wondered if he realized just how detached from things Edouard really was. Would he see that she knew the court and all those who called it home far better than many thought? And if he did see that would he appreciate it? Or would he insist on seeing her as what she herself had identified herself as, merely a simple woman?

Her move had been made, now it was his turn.

((Yup Atropa, Mercy was convinced *you* were a pointless figure head, until your little secret came out. And she did quite like Octavien, she's just not so sure anymore. Remember Mercy is watching you never know you may just do something later on to get her to apologise - that would be a totally new experience!

And Shenan, maybe that is the cause of my reluctance to hand over my Mercy sim! Or it just may be the lack of cc...

*edit for post below* Actually I decided to make a couple of items for her myself, along with a Helena sim, as though i haven't Mercy into anymore than a bodyshop dummy if i do she'll need Helena around.))

Dimitri & Isabella - Throne Room
 

((We... have DATABASE? Hardcore, man. Hardcore.

That page is an awesome idea, Atropa. As for sharing Dimitri, I'm not very good at making sims... But the idea of having a little Baroque courtiers running around my neighbourhood sounds incredibly amusing. XD Hmm... Fayre! I'll share Dimitri if you'll share Mercy! And don't worry about CC, most of us just replace the CC with our own ones anyway :D))
______


When Isabella’s gaze left his, the moment of vicious clarity did not disappear with her—it lingered on, thinning itself as it spread around him, until it was like a curl of hair or smoke, winding itself gently around his senses. He felt his instincts awakening rapidly, his muscles tensing (he clasped his hands behind him); the Queen’s smile was now as sharp as it was sweet.

Dimitri’s eyes followed her as she slid to her throne. She was like the cool slithering snake, like the thundering platoon marching across enemy lines; ringing with awe and power. She was putting on her own display, her own performance. He knew he was at war, he simply wasn’t sure she was the enemy. It would not do to alienate the Queen in such uncertainty, and so he obliged her, and he watched her perform.

“Duc, you are a wise man, of that I have no doubt. I ask you to please, allow a simple woman to amuse herself with an analogy of sorts.” It was not a request. A smile flitted briefly across his face. The Queen, a simple woman? As true as he was just a grumpy old man.

There were many small things he picked up in her words, her tone, gestures. Dimitri filed them all away, to be scrutinised later. Was the diamond the Duc d’Cognac? Could a youngster like him, unknown to the world, befit such a comparison to the hardest, sharpest jewel known to man?

Then it became clear what the diamond was, what the stakes were.

“...Even if I must dirty my hands.” The timing was beautiful. Standing on the platform, Isabella had been looking down at him—but then she lowered herself with deliberate confidence. I do not need to stand to face you. Now she sat before him, she still looked down at him, and he would have to raise his eyes to meet hers. Indeed, such an effect was what such platforms, such throne rooms, were made for.

But Dimitri was a tall man. He lifted his eyes a scant degree.

“...It is true Duc d’Cognac does not have a reputation any person with an ounce of sense would admire, but that is largely because the good deeds he has done do not reach any ears or eyes but mine.”

‘Mine’. So the Duc d’Cognac reported only to the Queen.

There were many things wrong with this, foremost being the authority with which she spoke. One almost forgot there were two thrones on that platform. Dimitri slid his eyes from her youthful, smiling, powerful face to the slightly more ornate, masculine throne beside hers—and he made sure she saw him do so. It was just a small reminder, to the Queen Consort who walked and spoke as King of the land; nothing more.

But something else required his attention.

“Your Majesty has given great thought to the future of our fair country.” He could respect that. Loyalty to country ranked among his highest virtues. “And it is clear to me, that you know this court better than most.”

That was his handicap. It was a wonder Edouard hadn’t considered it. These young nobles, their behaviour, their... ‘ethics’ and concerns were alien to him. They were a product of peace, Isabella’s generation. Dimitri knew himself the loser when it came to this, so he swiftly acquiesced this battle. “I am confident your decision to promote the Duc d’Cognac was not made in shallow haste, but for the good of the country.”

Dimitri did not lie. Generally. He did not think he was lying now. Isabella had truly impressed him with her devotion to their country, but he did not know if they were both acting at this point. Her eyes were on him, and now he realised what that discomfort in Isabella's Salon had been: she wasn't only watching him, she was watching him. The contest, whatever it was, had begun even then.

He bowed, breaking eye contact; it was low enough to show respect, but high enough not to be mistaken for unquestionable deference. “It is not my place to ask Your Majesty to explain her reasons. But I ask you to please, allow an old man to indulge in the habit of advising the young: the position of Advisor may be best for someone whose achievements are known to many. What, may I ask, are the Duc d’Cognac’s good deeds that would fulfil such qualifications?”

Isabella & Dimitri - Throne Room
 

((OOC: I love it! I say Isabella floated gracefully, you say she slithered. lol Such a difference the point of view can make. ))

Isabella sat confidently upon her throne waiting for Dimitri to make his move. Would it be a rebuttal, or an acknowledgment? Was he going for a checkmate, or was he simply playing for pleasure? His move began with a simple glance. His eyes smoothly slid from her frame to take in the seat beside her. It was a beautiful metaphorical picture. Perhaps he had meant it to be a reminder that she did not rule alone, as there were two chairs. Perhaps he simply was acknowledging that the seat beside her was empty. Void of the authority it was made to hold. Yes indeed, Edouard was absent from most everything when it came to his kingdom. For heaven’s sake he enjoyed his Salon more than his throne room. The very room in the palace that overflowed with imagery of might and power. Isabella may not have the highest chair in the land, but it was she that ruled the kingdom despite the fact.

“Your Majesty has given great thought to the future of our fair country.” Dimitri’s words began after his gaze returned to her. His words soothed her a little. So many times Isabella found herself dealing with buffoons. It was nice to finally play this game with someone who was not so stupid as to declare themselves a winner when they were not. There was much to respect in a man who could put his pompous pride aside long enough to admit that his opponent did have a point. He soon bowed, as to physically acknowledge that fact. However when he straightened his body back to its upright position she thought it was with new determination. Exactly what for she was not certain.

“It is not my place to ask Your Majesty to explain her reasons.” He began by acknowledging she did in fact out rank him, though not admitting that equaled in power or might. “But I ask you to please, allow an old man to indulge in the habit of advising the young…” a small spark of amusement flashed briefly in her eyes as he practically used her own words. “What, may I ask, are the Duc d’Cognac’s good deeds that would fulfill such qualifications?”

Now one of her prior questions was answered, indeed he would enquire why Felix was promoted. Isabella honored the fact. It was proof that he took his new duty seriously. If he was to make suggestions to Edouard on the best route to go in choosing an advisor, he would need to be informed. As she began to speak, Isabella stood, descending the stairs of the platform. “You know as well as I that I am by no means required to answer to you. However, we both know what is really on the line here. My husband admires you, rightly so, and has asked you to mentor him once again, like you did in the past. I do so adore my husband, there is no doubt of that, however I am not so undiscerning as to allow his admirable traits blind me from seeing the areas of which he lacks.”

As she reached the floor once again, she roamed the northern section of the room, coming to stand before the painting of Edouard in his most royal of clothes and stature. “While he has good intentions, he has deliberately detached himself from those who serve him, even from his own family. The reason he has such difficulty in choosing an advisor is simply because he does not know those who he has to choose from.” While she remained standing in front of the painting, her gaze now returned to Dimitri. “That is why I am glad he has asked you to stay, to help him. While I may have the knowledge of our mighty kingdom, you have something I do not. The wisdom that comes with age. Experiences lived, and knowledge gained. I do not belittle the great position my husband has raised you to, and I do wish to be of any service to you that I possibly can.”

Being quite satisfied with letting him know her position, she began to walk towards him, finally answering his original question. “The princess is gravely ill, of that everyone knows. However only three souls, now you shall be the fourth, know the cause of her illness. Rest assured it is quite safe to be in her presence, as she does not have a catchable disease of some sort. No the sad reality is that the Princess was poisoned.” She paused briefly, both to show proper respect for the girl, but also to allow time for the shock of her words to dissipate.

“It seems that though the beautiful girl does not share her looks with her father, she does share his lack of getting to know those who serve her. While in town, Duc d’Cognac overheard some shady dealings and decided to investigate; he came back as soon as he had heard the whole plot. Unfortunately traveling delays made him too late to foil the plans. Still, despite that failure, he reported to me what he knew. The man should be, while we speak, finding the traitor in the palace that has done such a thing.”

Her voice was low and solemn. The very thought of a traitor among them bothered her despite the fact she did not doubt her own safety. Adalita’s downfall was the product of her own actions, they would not wish to harm Isabella. Besides, she had made enough enemies of her own, she had no need to worry of Adalita’s.

((OOC: Seiza, if Dimitri doesn't have more questions or further manners, feel free to move them to the west wing. I think it's obvious enough she wouldn't talk about such matters in the halls where others would be listening, so if he has further to dig, they can stay there. ))

Dimitri & Isabella
 

(( The power of adjectives!

I think you can tell what Dimitri's next question will be-- after Isabella deigns to answer (or not ), feel free to end the tour.))
______


“While he has good intentions, he has deliberately detached himself from those who serve him, even from his own family...” Isabella spoke from beside the King's portrait. The significance of the position was not lost on him, but Dimitri was entertaining another quandary. He always assumed that all was right in the royal family. Edouard’s letters to him had only spoken of pleasant things (though, upon reflection, they had spoken of fencing more than anything). But for the Queen to be able to speak as she did, with such analytic detachment herself... it was not a tone adoring wives used for their lords—at least, not in public.

Dimitri watched her with new eyes. Yesterday, she had presented herself as a most humble wife. Could today’s Isabella be removing part of that mask for him? Perhaps...

“I do not belittle the great position my husband has raised you to, and I do wish to be of any service to you that I possibly can.”

...Ah.

She was acknowledging his strengths, as he had hers. But she was also proposing a pact, willingly revealing some small slice of how she truly thought in the process. Edouard probably expected them to work together from the beginning. But the Duc—and, apparently, the Queen—had no such illusions. It would be too convenient, suspicious even, for their aims to line up so perfectly. This scene they were playing out now seemed just a bit more authentic: the vocal acknowledgement to help each other, instead of the silent assumption that they would.

Dimitri inclined his head in agreement. She had said many things—about their country, and even about their King—for him to believe they were on the same side. For now.

Now that this was sealed, Isabella answered his question. “The princess is gravely ill, of that everyone knows. However only three souls, now you shall be the fourth, know the cause of her illness...”

He listened in growing outrage. Adalita—poisoned?! Who would dare...! ...No, what was he thinking? Of course there were plenty who dared, and many more with the motivation to try. How could they be so careless! The King, the Queen, Mollier, the palace guards—did they think that just because she was not a prince, Adalita was free of such danger?

Dimitri slowly unlaced his palms from behind his back, settling them by his side. He flexed his fingers—once, twice—fingers that already wanted to rip the head from the traitorous dog responsible.

That was his only reaction.

“And the Duc d’Cognac was the first to know this? Then I owe him my gratitude, as well as an apology for doubting his capabilities.” His voice was cool. “Where did he hear of thi—”

Giggles.

Dimitri had to bite his tongue, or he would have roared at the maids who entered, whispering over their feather dusters. He even managed to withhold the full force of his glower. But it didn’t matter—when they realised they had interrupted their Queen and her guest, the two girls went white as snow. Then they remembered themselves, and fell into clumsy curtseys. “Y-Your Majesty! Oh, forgive us, we did not know...”

“The daily cleaning, I presume?” the Duc muttered, to which the Queen nodded. He stewed silently while she dealt with them, but the moment was already lost—there was little chance they would continue talking about this, knowing more servants would be milling about at this time than before. Such information was very sensitive, and servants had sponge-like ears not hindered by mundane obstacles such as walls or hearing limits.

While the girls cleaned the vases, their feather dusters quivering in their hands, Isabella turned to him. “We may have dallied here too long, Duc. Was this not supposed to be a tour?”

Yes, the moment was certainly lost.

“Indeed, though I hope we shall continue our conversation some other time.”

They walked casually from the throne room, moving towards the west wing. It astounded him how easily they both fell back into the tour. Although his memory had forgotten that this was the way of the court, his instincts had not—Dimitri would ask some inane question, and Isabella would answer him with some informative snippet, and it looked so very authentic.

As they walked towards the west wing, they passed a well-hidden stairs leading down. The Duc looked at it meaningfully. Did this not lead to the servant’s quarters? And... dungeon? The significance of Adalita's sickness and the attack on the Prince was not lost on him. It was, in fact, so obvious, he just had to turn to the Queen, the question in his eyes.

Isabella & Dimitri
 

Isabella looked upon Dimitri with expectant eyes. She wondered how he would take the news of Adalita’s illness. His reaction, or lack thereof, both surprised her and yet was completely expected. Soon their talk was suddenly interrupted by servant girls entering the room to clean.

“Indeed, though I hope we shall continue our conversation some other time.” Isabella nodded her head in silent agreement to the Duc’s words. Indeed. She hoped they would have many more meetings. Which reminded her of her own meeting she was to have with Baroness Flight this afternoon over lunch.

As they were just about done with the tour they passed a nearly concealed stairway. Dimitri looked towards Isabella, the question written on his face. “Those descend to the lowest floor of the Palace. Given it is most improper for me to step one foot down there, I do not know it well.” She smiled with light humor. “I doubt you should need to visit the kitchen or the dungeon. You are not a servant, and you are not that type of guest.”

Once the tour was completed they ascended the stairs together. Upon reaching the top landing she excused herself politely explaining she had a lunch date to prepare for.

((OOC: Seiza, I am really, really, really sorry for the sudden demotion of quality. I've had a really crappy day and I just can't get into it right now. Given both our characters have lunch dates, I didn't want to prolong it any longer.

Fayreview, whenever you're ready, you can send Mercy up to Isabella's Salon. After a good night's sleep I should be back to my old self. ))

((I had an urge to hear chimes here, but didn't specify from where as whilst I'd love to have a clock tower in the grounds i don't wanna make waves and they could easily be from the surrounding area ))

Mercy was sat in her bedroom, the heavy velvet curtains covered 4 of the rooms 5 ceiling height windows, giving the room a feeling of trapped heat and darkness, she was not sure if she could face the Queen knowing what she had just done. she could of course send a note claiming some illness to get her out of lunch but with Adalita and Octaviens problems, even the small amount of worry Mercy herself could provide for the great young woman was more than she could bear to do, no she would of course go, and as there was no time like the present she raised herself and exited the room.

Still dressed in slate grey and flat shoes, she walked slowly to the chambers, drawing out the inevitable point at which she would meet the queen and be forced to either confess or fake ease whilst providing the necessary levels of gentle politeness. Naturally by the time she reached the chamber she had her mind set upon which option to take, she bowed her way into the queens chamber after being told to enter and waited to be acknowledged before looking up. She wondered if there was something particular on the Queen's mind or if this was just a social invitation, Mercy would not normally mind either way but today she hoped the queen needed something. Just so as to take her mind off what she had done. For whilst mercy did have the best of intentions people rarely liked having someone meddle in their affairs, which in this case was quite literally the phrase.

((No Shenan that is BAD post!))

Isabella & Mercy - Isabella's Salon
 

((OOC: Fay... your whole "meddle in affairs" thing had me cracking up.))

After leaving Duc d’Lorraine’s side, Isabella stopped in her suite for the servants to see to the unending task of touching up her appearance and for some quiet time to reflect on the morning’s events. Her meeting with Dimitri had at least included the opportunity for her to state, clearly or not, that Edouard was indeed not the royal ruler so many saw him to be.

Isabella was satisfied that she seemed to have done it without stepping overly out of line. Still she did not have the calm assurance that she and Dimitri were two entities headed in the same direction. However, she did not feel as if they were destined to collide either. She knew that time would have to reveal Duc d’Lorraine’s stances on things. She would have to wait patiently. There’s just no way around it.

Once having realized she would once again wait on the revelation that only time would bring, her mind switched from her morning to her afternoon. Once again she was to have lunch with Baroness Flight. Their lunches together had pretty much become habit. Before Duc d’Cognac’s sudden reappearance she had quite fondly thought of slowly testing the woman’s faithfulness. She had indeed far outdone herself and proved to be an essential ally with the matter of Adalita’s intended marriage to Silvius. In fact if it weren’t for the woman, he would have become prince, instead of Octavien.

Soon Isabella made her way to her Salon, the ever familiar room. It was good that Isabella was quite fond of the décor as she did spend a lot of time in there. Once again looking out the window Isabella longed for spring. She longed to feel the sun upon her skin, bringing warmth to her body. She dreamed of days outside of the walls of the palace. If she could not get out of the Kingdom for some new scenery, at least being outdoors would be the next best thing.

Soon Isabella’s thoughts were interrupted by the Baroness’ entrance. She turned towards the woman who was in her usually low bow. “Baroness Flight,” Isabella began walking towards her, “thank you for joining me once again.”

After their greetings had been exchanged they took their familiar spots at the table that the servants had adorned for their lunch. “I do believe I haven’t properly thanked you for the beautiful gift you had sent. You really have outdone yourself.” Isabella began with cordial small talk. Soon she moved on to another matter. “I am most curious as to attain your thoughts on the introduction Edouard made this morning, during the announcements. What is the word about the palace of the King’s old friend, Duc d’Lorraine?”

It didn't take Mercy long to connect the new name with her new aquaintance, she took a split second to curse herself for not paying more attention at the announcements but was quick with an answer, "very polite and suprisingly well mannered for a man who assaulted a Baroness with a carriage," she gave a half smile. Duc d'Lorraine? Would he still be happy being called Dimitri-Josephe? And more to the point had he found Baroness Venn? Well she would know soon enough.

"But before we have any discussion about either the Duc or myself i must ask about your family, the Prince and Princess both taken down in such awful ways and yourself and our dear King how are you coping with the news?" She did not wish to discuss Dimitri afterall if she did the queen would think she was not doing her job knowing little more than the fact he was handsome and courtious. On top of that she actually was worried for the young woman and whilst Mercy fought not to show discomfort at mentioning the Prince the emotions the woman before her must be hiding upset Mercy also.

((Ok Sorry for that post Shenan but I should be better after a goodnights sleep and will pop on after my driving lesson tomorrow morning!))

Dimitri & Octavien - Prince's suite
 

((lols, Shenan, no worries, the post is fine! The past few days have been pretty packed on my side too, and it doesn't look to be lightening up anytime soon @_@ ))
______


When Dimitri entered his suite, Rukov could immediately sense all was not right with his master. Agitation rimmed his eyes, minutely drawing down the corners of his mouth. But if the Duc had any intention of discussing the matter, he could not—the luncheon with the Prince awaited him.

Rukov himself was asked to tend to his master. In such privacy, Dimitri could allow himself the luxury of wandering deep into his mind, losing himself in silent thoughts. He was not very talkative by nature, yet he had such an unnerving air about him now that even the silence tasted wrong. If it weren't completely impossible, the Duc even seemed to be unaware of his surroundings.

This didn’t happen very often. Rukov decided he would not try his luck with entering the upper floors a third time.

After a ribbon had been expertly retied and cravat resettled, the Duc finally spoke. “You haven’t really had a look around the palace, have you?” Rukov waited. “The west wing is quite interesting.”

The men left the suite, heading in opposite directions.

***

The Duc d’Lorraine arrived at Prince Octavien’s suite promptly, alone, and calm as a mountain. This morning’s revelation was nothing short of momentous, but he was disciplined enough to put Adalita’s condition out of his mind. Like an errant file, an extra handkerchief—his anxiety had been folded and neatly put away.

He had been prepared to wait, yet to his great surprise and pleasure, the guard recognised him immediately and readily admitted him into the Prince’s suite. Dimitri was a fervent supporter of such punctuality and organisation.

He entered to find Prince Octavien standing by the window, much like the Queen had been this morning, and he himself had done before sunrise. It was a curious image of three guarded faces looking out of glass prisons, rimmed in marble and metal—but Dimitri did not have enough poetry in his soul to really appreciate it. He was, instead, doing what he did better: observing and taking notes.

Despite being attacked yesterday, the Prince was standing quite straight. Dimitri knew enough of such men to not take it as a sign that he was fully healed. He had been such once, just as proud and just as confident of his body’s magical ability to heal.

“Good afternoon, Your Highness,” the older man bowed. “Let me start by expressing my congratulations to you on your wedding to the Princess, and my sympathies for everything else.”

It seemed mildly gruesome that he had more things to express his sympathies for; the wedding seemed the only good thing to have opened the new year, and even that had its share of problems.

“Let us hope this lunch will be a more pleasant experience for you,” Dimitri continued. He did not smile, but his eyes crinkled slightly, in compassion and support and... well... Not royalty for a month, and already the Prince had to suffer a sickly wife and a near-assassination. It was all humourous in a way possibly only the Duc could find it.

Isabella & Mercy - Isabella's Salon
 

“Very polite and surprisingly well mannered for a man who assaulted a Baroness with a carriage.” Mercy’s answer to her question caught Isabella slightly off guard. She had received word that Mercy had the most unfortunate of accidents, however she did not know that Duc d’Lorraine was the cause of it.

Before she could question Mercy about it however, she soon moved on to another topic. “But before we have any discussion about either the Duc or myself, I must ask about your family. The Prince and Princess both taken down in such awful ways and yourself and our dear King, how are you coping with the news?”

Isabella sat thoughtfully, allowing her graceful smile to disappear from her features. She would give signs to Mercy that she was being sincere and genuine, lowering her guard of royal mannerisims and offering glances of the true Isabella. “Mmm…. Yes. No doubt you’ve noticed the extra guards on duty." Isabella exhaled slightly, "Indeed the Prince is badly injured, however it’s the Princess that concerns me.” Isabella’s voice was now low and clouded. “Though in the public eye the King and I grasp on to hope, I do not believe the young girl will make it through the night. I mourn the unborn heir already.” Isabella’s words had been truthful, despite holding back the entirety of her knowledge. Not many people knew of the Princess’ pregnancy, it saddened her that very few would mourn the life that had not yet even begun.

((OOC: Isabella wants to put the topic back on Mercy being ran over by Dimitri. But I thought I’d give you the opportunity to take it wherever Mercy was headed.))

((Oh i wasn't taking it anywhere I was just doing what was polite! afterall it would be awful of Mercy to ignore the terrible goings on, and frightfully rude. so back to the Duc we go ))

"I do understand where you are coming from, but with me it is a grandchild I will never see, at least mine will be alive and happy. Do take some solace in the fact the baby cannot suffer, and the Princess is a resiliant young woman, she will fight it if she can." Mercy knew where the Queen was coming from, a dark place she had lost hope and being partial to more of the facts than Mercy herself was she would just have to accept the words of the woman before her that the Princess would not pull through and yet attempt to comfort her anyway. She moved on from the Prince quickly, she was perhaps too upset to discuss it or perhaps, just perhaps she had spoken to the young gentleman in the time since Mercy had left his chambers. No, the Queen, was being as warm as she had always been to Mercy in recent times, she was not aware that Mercy was one of her secretkeepers yet. she leant forward as a sign of wishing to comfort the younger woman.


She looked inside herself seeking her own advise dare she bring up her new knowledge? Perhaps one day. But not on one when the Queen was so sad... wait perhaps it was actually a day like this needed someone to talk to? But why should that be Mercy? She had the young gentleman. Who Mercy did trust cared for the young woman, even if she was not sure as of yet just how much. Mercy continued to smile gently at her, she knew not what to do, but for now that did not matter.

Isabella & Mercy - Isabella's Salon
 

“I do understand where you are coming from, but with me it is a grandchild I will never see, at least mine will be alive and happy. Do take some solace in the fact the baby cannot suffer, and the Princess is a resilient young woman, she will fight it if she can.” Isabella was confident that Mercy’s words had been sincere, in an attempt to give Isabella a bit of hope for the Princess. Isabella’s eyes thanked Mercy for the attempt, however she had given up such hope. Sad to say, but it was the truth, one she had to face grimly.

“You speak with such wisdom, I hope you do not dismiss my words as simple flattery, as they most certainly are not.” Isabella’s gaze sat contently upon the woman. “I feel as if I could learn a great deal from you, and the lessons your life has taught you, no doubt some more painful to learn than others.” At this point Isabella was not a queen speaking to a baroness. Quite contrarily she was a younger woman speaking to another, another who had seen the good, the bad, and the uncivilized. Her voice lightened as she slightly avoided the awkwardness a moment such as that could bring. “Your cheek is healing quite nicely.”, she offered. “I do say, you’ve held up quite well despite an assault with a carriage.”

((OOC: Short... but... conversation pieces usually are.))

Octavien & Dimitri - lunch in Octavien's suite
 

With Baroness Flight out of the room, Octavien gave a brusque and annoyed wave with his hand, for the young servant girl to remove the completely untouched tea tray, while he himself paced over to the window. Stopping infront of the one he had decided offered the best view, he clasped his hands firmly behind his back, and let his eyes roam over the beautiful gardens and forest stretching out in the north. But he didn't see it. His thoughts were elsewhere already. The vinegar that had been simmering in his blood during the last couple of days, had by Mercy's stunt just been brought to a violent boil. He was growing bitter. Only a few months in this court, and he had already had his cordiality and his good intentions stepped on, several times over. He had made an effort to be kind and courteous to everyone that had given him no reason to be anything less, and what had it gotten him? Disrespect, embarrassment, rejection, and now threats. He had married Adalita out of the love for his country and loyalty to the crown, to save her from suffering the humiliation of being dishonored. All he had asked was that she would be discreet, and he had hoped for them to at least be friends. But instead, she had been the exact opposite, with little concern for how her actions effected the man that had tried to protect her, and she had put him into a most embarrassing situation.
She, and Duc Peitou-Charentes, whom Octavien had offered a perfect way of having an affair with Adalita, Octavien's wife, without rousing suspicion. What had he gotten in return? Accusations of having ruined the man's life. A man that while he claimed to so love Adalita, hadn't been up to see her even once. Despite her serious illness, and despite having been offered a way directly into her suite, past the guards that kept everyone but the royal family and their physician out. So much for that man's so-called love. Apparently, it was wasn't worth even the breaths he had used to proclaim it.

Further more, Octavien had tried to form a friendship with Baroness Taylor also. He had opened up to her more than he had to anyone - except, of course, Isabella - he had confided in her. And all she had done was to distance herself from him, making it evident that he put far more trust in her, than she did in him.
And then there was Baroness Flight... Octavien had always remained respectful and kind towards her, appreciating her qualities rather than judging her based on what others had to say about her. He had even tried his best to save her the embarrassment when she had knocked over a small table, and caused a beautiful vase to shatter on the hard marble floor.
All for nothing.
Yes. The young Prince was growing bitter indeed.

How long he stood there, staring off into nothingness, he didn't know, but he was awakened by the voice of Gilles, announcing to him that Duc d’Lorraine had arrived for their luncheon. Barely turning his head, Octavien gave him a sign to let the man in, and only once he heard footsteps unfamiliar to his ears did he turn. The Duc had entered, and as Octavien turned to face him, his guest gave a bow that, while it was a sign of proper respect of a loyal subject, showed very little of the submission common among the two-faced courtiers.

"Good afternoon, Your Highness," the Duc said. "Let me start by expressing my congratulations to you on your wedding to the Princess, and my sympathies for everything else."

As he straightened his back once again, Octavien studied him, making it no secret that he was assessing him, and forming his first impression. The man before him was as dark as Octavien himself was fair; long but very neatly trimmed charcoal tresses, versus his own golden sunshine. Eyes like dark steel, versus Octavien's piercing sapphires. And skin marred and toughened by time, weather and battle, versus Octavien's pale and flawless complexion brought by his youth.
Though despite the striking differences, to anyone that bothered to look closer, there were similarities as well. They both carried themselves with pride; back straight and head held high. And it was evident in both of them that behind their eyes, their minds were hard at work, registering details, analyzing glances and behaviour, constantly evaluating and re-evaluating what they saw.
To Octavien, it was what would most properly be described as a sight for sore eyes. Among the many snakes in court, there now appeared a lion.

"Let us hope this lunch will be a more pleasant experience for you," the man continued, as Octavien acknowledged his greeting by inclining his head ever so slightly, allowing the faintest of polite smiles to grace his lips.

"Thank you, Duc d'Lorraine", he replied as he started walking over to the table that had apparently been prepared for this lunch while he had been deep in thought. "I'm sure it will. Frankly, I've been looking forward to it, as our honored King seems to hold you in high esteem, which, I'm afraid, can not be said about many in this court."

He motioned gently towards the chair opposite of the one by which he himself was standing.

"Please, have a seat", he said, and then sat down himself, as no well-mannered courtier would dream of being the first to sit while in the presence of royalty. "What, if I may ask, do we have to thank for the pleasure of your presence at our grand Palace?"



(((ooc: Seiza - Sorry, I know you gave me the tools to continue, but my eyes a literally falling shut, and I just wanted to give you something to reply to before I stumble off to bed. *s*)))

Dimitri & Octavien - lunch at the Prince's suite
 

((All the snake imagery is awesomely amusing. XD

And hush, you two! Even your "short" pieces are great posts, so no worries about the quality :P

I was also curious about something-- how are we gonna handle changing seasons? Are we gonna RP all two/three months of winter, have a time jump at some point, or just quietly make the transition to spring in a few RP days a la Sims 2 Seasons? XD))
______


Dimitri did not fidget under the Prince’s open assessment. That was no matter. It gave him his own chance to observe the newest addition to the royal family.

Octavien was young. He had to be several decades Dimitri’s junior. Now, there was no reason for such an observation to surprise him, as Adalita was not even twenty. But he had reasoned that her marriage to Duc Peitou-Charentes was cancelled in favour of a more strategic alliance, with a prince from Denmark or some such thing—and such marriages tended to have wide age gaps.

The Duc had also been hoping that a glimpse of the new Prince would jog his memory of who he was. So many noble families always had some genetic uniqueness—an oddly-angled nose, thicker-than-normal earlobes, et cetera—that marked them part of a particular lineage. The Duc’s family’s own widely known trademarks were their dark complexions and strong noses. But to his great consternation, if Octavien had any such hereditary markings upon him, he could not find it; either there was none, or it was hidden in places the Duc had no business looking at.

“Thank you, Duc d'Lorraine.” The moment for study had ended, and the time for lunch was beginning. “I'm sure it will. Frankly, I've been looking forward to it, as our honored King seems to hold you in high esteem, which, I'm afraid, can not be said about many in this court.”

Dimitri inclined his head silently—Octavien’s last words intrigued him more, however. He was used to people observing the King’s respect for him, but not many ever followed that compliment by condemning the other courtiers in the same breath. Or was he misunderstanding, and he was instead saying that the court did not hold Dimitri in high esteem?

There was also this odd tone about him, extremely subtle, but the Duc knew his senses to be strong as a bloodhound’s... Something like bitterness, like frustration...

After the men took their seats, he answered the expected question. “You may thank your wedding, Your Highness, for that was originally what I came to celebrate. I received the invitation early, but was delayed tremendously by the bad weather. I only just arrived yesterday afternoon.”

It seemed wholly wrong to speak of a wedding in such a grave manner, but so he did.

“Either way, it seems I have come at an unfortunate time. I should thank you as well, for granting me this luncheon in the middle of your recovery. You are very gracious to do this, and to let the assassin live.”

It was both a compliment and something of a grumble. The first man who tried something similar with Dimitri had been left, at least, without an arm. But he did not mention this. Octavien was a man, and the Duc ordinarily did not have qualms about discussing such things with men—but the Prince was also young. It could not be assumed he had dropped any more blood than a few mistakes in practice fencing.

“May I inquire how you are doing today? And the Princess as well...” Bringing up Adalita had the unfortunate effect of softening Dimitri’s voice, slightly but still noticeably.

Mercy had looked down at the table during the awkward silence, there it was, a sign she did care for what Mercy thought. she bit her lower lip, she wopuld have to come clean wouldn't she? How could she hide her betrayal from the person she was trying to protect. Her train of thought came to a hault, actually that was the purpose of it....

“Your cheek is healing quite nicely I do say, you’ve held up quite well despite an assault with a carriage.” The Queen offered a change of topic back to where they had been moments ago, the cut reminded her of the sign of friendship which Octavien had offered her but unfortunately she could not let that sway her. She herself had taken the blame for things for less than noble reasons. People often felt they owed you things when you did, and whilst Octavien did not seem like the type for such an act that did not necessarily mean he was not. She made a note to talk to people about the young Prince and for the first time cursed her title for seperating her from the 'common man.'

"Assault was not the right word, I spoke in jest. He seems a good man, his driver was tired and managed to knock me down as i crossed the courtyard. He was most apologetic and has asked for the name of my seamstress as to repair the dress which the Duchess d'Borbon Parmer presented me with." Mercy gave a smirk at the mention of Marie.

"As for my supposed wisdom, if there is one thing I should teach you it is the one thing I failed to teach my daughter. If it makes you happy... take the risk. There will always be someone watching out for your best interests." I was subtle but in its own way stated that Mercy was acting as a guardian for the younger woman and despite the fact she had no right to, she cared. Mercy stated this with conviction as even when Mercy could not be around the Queen had Margaret, a woman who Mercy held in great esteem, such a hard job done so elegantly....

Octavien & Dimitri - lunch in Octavien's suite
 

(((ooc: *lmao* '...places the Duc had no business looking at.' Too funny!)))

Even as Octavien and his guest sat down together, commencing the kind of polite conversation that was to be expected between two gentlemen, the young Prince kept studying the Duc. While correct respect was something he would offer in any first encounter with someone, few in this court had managed to actually demand it, the way the Duc's presence did. He possessed the kind of authority that drew the sense of respect from those around him, even if they were the kind of younglings that were not inclined to show anything but arrogance. It pleased Octavien to see it, as finally there seemed to be a proper blue-blooded man of honor in court. Although he himself was now royalty, and thought of himself as an honorable man, Octavien could hardly call himself blue-blooded, and far too many of the blue-bloods that were around, could hardly be called men of honor.
Thus, the Duc made for a welcome change.
Though at the same time, Octavien did not forget nor dismiss what Isabella had had to say about him. Especially the part about not knowing if he was friend or foe. If he would turn out to be the latter, it was Octavien's guess - nay, conviction - that the Duc would offer a challenge greater than Adalita, Duc Peitou-Charentes and Marquess Berini had together. In all honesty, Octavien had to wonder why it was that he had not heard of such a prominent man before. The King obviously thought very highly of him, and he did seem like the type of man that would etch himself into the memories of anyone he came across. But then again, Isabella had also said that it had been years since the Duc had left the court. Octavien, on the other hand, had arrived just a few months ago, and prior to that had paid very little attention to tales, rumours and gossip concerning the royal family and the noble families, in or outside of court. Even if he had heard the name, Octavien had never made a point of remembering such things, until after arriving at the court in the Palace of Light and Air.

However, as the nature of the Duc's agenda, if he had one, was still to reveal itself, Octavien would go with his instincts until it did.

"You may thank your wedding, Your Highness," the Duc replied to his question, "for that was originally what I came to celebrate. I received the invitation early, but was delayed tremendously by the bad weather. I only just arrived yesterday afternoon."

Of course, the wedding. Octavien should've known. Or at the least have guessed. With the Duc being such a good friend of the King's, he would've obviously been at the top of the guest list.

"Either way," he continued, "it seems I have come at an unfortunate time. I should thank you as well, for granting me this luncheon in the middle of your recovery. You are very gracious to do this, and to let the assassin live."

Although young, Octavien was intelligent enough to register that such a statement was far more than just the polite compliment it appeared to be on the surface. He knew there were those that were somewhat puzzled by his leniency towards the man behind the "attempted murder", and their whispers filled the hallways as they consulted eachother in their attempts to make sense of it. But no one had asked Octavien himself about it.
Until now, even though the Duc could hardly be accused of being blunt in doing so. In fact, he seemed to leave as a comment that the Prince could choose not to answer if he wanted to, without making his reluctance obvious.

"May I inquire how you are doing today?" the Duc simply and smoothly continued. "And the Princess as well..."

Octavien couldn't help but to notice the faint element of softness that crept into the man's tone, at the mention of Adalita. Not in the way of a concerned subject, but in the way of someone who genuinly cared for the young girl. But again; of course. Isabella had mentioned the closeness between the Duc in the King, although not in so many words, and so it would probably only be safe to assume that the Duc had been around when Adalita was just a child, maybe even when she was first born.

"The Princess...", Octavien started, and his brows furrowed with concern as his thoughts returned to the girl that even though she had angered him greatly, he still cared for. "How I wish I could say there is good hope for her recovery. But if I did, I would be a liar, and a fool. Every bit of news I have been brought has been more discouraging than the last..."

Following that statement, he allowed silence to settle in the room for a few moments, as a way of showing that even though he was about to shift the subject from the Princess, it was only because there really was not much one could say about her condition at this point, that would not be macabre or otherwise improper, and because there were other questions he had yet to answer.

"As for myself...", he said slowly once he continued. "I am quite well, under the circumstances. Though I thank you for your concern, and for your compliment. You are most kind, as I am simply trying to stay humble. I am still trying to settle in without letting my recent good fortune go to my head, and throwing my weight around like some foolish boy drunk with power. Or rather, the illusion thereof."

He was very well aware that the power he did have, as Prince, was limited to rather simple matters, when compared to the powers of the King and Queen. While he could order the beheading of the Marquess, if he so chose, he had no say in the decisions that would greatly effect the world, the kingdom, or even the court.

"I could, of course, have the Marquess pay for his crime in what I assume would be deemed a more suitable way. But I find the idea of an execution somewhat tactless at this time, considering we have more important concerns. Though feel free to correct me me if you think I am wrong? I simply fail to see what good could come from executing a man consumed by petty jealousy, when our beloved Princess is fighting for her life. I feel our thoughts should be with her."



(((ooc: Hope it's coherent. Scatterbrained today. *s*)))