Present Zelpha

[Hyren]

Faeron began his assault against the remaining creatures at nearly the same time as Frederick. He planned to end it quickly, and remove the final two opponents at once with a single, powerful attack. He raised his working arm in front of his face.

Creating an odd, complex, and no doubt magical gesture with his hand, Faeron began chanting several arcane words of power in Silvian. As he did he motioned his hand in a complex pattern in front of him. Slowly, a blue glow began to envelope his body, occasionally turning white for a brief moment.

Finally, Faeron thrust his hand forward, shouting two words loudly in Zelphian as he did. “Glacial Crush!”

As the words left his lips, a large gust of wind sent his clothes ruffling violently. For a brief second it seemed he had performed nothing but theatrics. The monsters howled in a way that seemed to be some form of laughter.

Suddenly and without warning, two solid, thick walls of pure, clear ice erupted from the ground on either side of the creatures. Almost as quickly as they has arisen, the two walls crashed together, crushing the dumbstruck creatures between them. Through the clear ice, which had fused together from the impact into a single large column stretching from the floor and the ceiling, what remained of the two demons could be seen, mashed into a fine pulp and stuck in the ice.

Turning his head, Faeron noticed one more demon remaining. It was the monster he had decapitated earlier, still flailing in its blindness like a chicken with his head cut off. Faeron snapped his fingers, and instantly the creature burst into tiny, frozen fragments.

Faeron smiled. It was over. He, and his friends were safe. He began to take a step, but stumbled suddenly and fell to his knees. Whatever energy had allowed him to keep his composure during the battle seemed to have left him now that it was over. He laughed weakly. He wasn’t laughing cause he found the situation funny, he laughed because he was amazed they had survived.

“Are you alright, Frederick?” Faeron asked, drained.

[Drake]

“Yes… I’ll be fine, at any rate. Is every—argh!”

The Dauphin tried forced himself to stand, but all the pain he had suppressed in order to fight back seemed to rush at him all at once, and Frederick collapsed to his knees, groaning in agony. It was only at this time that Katarina gasped, leaving her position from behind the frozen table to rush to the side of her cousin. For all their arguments, for everything he stood for that she opposed… he was still her cousin, her family. His flesh and blood was just as well hers. Ripping the fine gauze of her sleeves without a care, she applied the fresh linen against the Dauphin’s forehead, soaking up the sweat and attempting to comfort him. How awful this entire situation was! It was only now that Katarina took notice of all the destruction around them; the entire Celestial Room was gutted, furniture overturned and destroyed, paneling ripped apart, not to mention all of the blood and innards that coated the rooms of the some dozen beasts that had come out of seemingly normal valets. The princess was beyond shocked; she knew of the tales of rumors such of monsters, but it seemed a distant dream, something from the generation of her parents. Yet something so awful had struck so close to home.

“We’re all fine…”

Sarah was just as drained as Faeron and Frederick. Yet compared to those too, she was used to the intense situations of war. She wanted to collapse just as badly as those two, but she knew she needed to hold on for just a little bit longer until she could relax. Approaching Faeron as calmly as she could, she kneeled down over him to chant yet another healing spell. It wasn’t much—but it would at least relax him until he could see a proper doctor. She was still dazed about the situation, but she didn’t know what to say, or even what to think. Where could she even begin? It was useless anyways; it wasn’t like anyone in the room could even begin to answer all the questions that she had.

“I just have one question…” Katarina began with a great deal of hesitance.

“Where did those—”

“—beasts come from?” Sarah whispered, finishing the statement of both Katarina and Beatrix.

“Yes.” They both replied in unison.

It was the understatement of the year to say that the whole room was confused. From Katarina, to the set, to even Sarah, Frederick, and probably even Faeron, the whole experience had been both terrifying and surreal. There simply was nothing to explain it, but everyone demanded answers, as all rational people did. Monsters did not just suddenly appear out of thin air, and they most certainly did not appear in the midst of civilized dinners. All scholarly texts spoke that monsters innately feared mortal contact, hence the bane of the mist that spawned them being urban settlement. Yet the beasts had attacked with such aggression, as if the whole thing had been brought about by a higher power. The Dauphine was unsure what to do, or even what to say… what could she do?

“Their Majesties must be informed of this terrible attack.” Sarah said aloud, as if they were children feeling into the arms of their parents.

[Hyren]

“Thank you.” Faeron said to Sarah as she healed his shoulder further. He raised his arm slighty, wincing a bit. It still hurt and stiff, but at least it had regained function. He turned his head to Frederick, remaining on his knees for a moment. “And thank you. I wouldn’t be alive if you hadn’t rescued me.”

Finally Faeron stood up. It took him a bit of effort and he felt a bit wobbly, but at least he was no longer on the soiled floor. He stumbled over to an overturned but overall still intact chair, righted it, and sat down.

Now that his head had cleared slightly, Faeron thought on the incident. It was as nothing he had ever seen. He had certainly seen wild beasts in the forests of his country, but nothing like this. Unlike simple wild monsters, these malevolent forces had been summoned, and possessed a single minded need to destroy Frederick and the others.

Faeron suspected that this attack had been directed towards the Dauphin or the Princess, perhaps both. Likely for the elven prince it was simply a case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. He wondered briefly why someone would want to kill him. While it was true he hadn’t known him for long Frederick appeared to be a good man.

Overall, though, it was an issue for him and his court, and wasn’t his business. Indeed, if he stayed out of it there was a good chance whatever forces were assembled against the royals wouldn’t consider him a target as well.

All this these thoughts were eclipsed by a single thing, however. Faeron was glad to still be alive.

[Drake]

It'll All Be Okay – Frederick & Sarah’s Theme

“Madame, the Dauphin is outside. Shall I let him in?”

“Yes, of course.”

Only a few days had passed since the ordeal everyone referred to as the ‘Celestial Room Massacre.’ While Drake and Sabriel had been informed about the attack, a further meeting had been pushed off so that matters could be sorted out, but also so that those involved would have a chance to rest and recuperate from the experience before being questioned. Sarah was no fool; she had noticed only mere hours following the attack that security throughout the palace had increased ten fold. Guards were everywhere, no one was allowed to walk about the palace after a certain hour, and any suspicious activity was to be reported immediately. Thankfully nothing else of note had happened after that dramatic attack, but the whole court still seemed tense. The king had even seen it fit to put guards within all the interior chambers, however much it annoyed Sarah to know she had people watching her, even while she was sleeping. Her thoughts were dispelled as the guards (also on orders of Drake: valets had been replaced with guards except when valets were absolutely needed) opened the doors into her suite, letting in the Dauphin. Signaling for her maids to leave her, Frederick bowed to the future Dauphine until ordered to rise.

“How are you feeling?”

Sarah smiled; for once, she was genuinely happy concerning Frederick. She felt no great weight upon her shoulders, and did not feel doomed to unhappiness. She knew that Frederick could never her love her—it was simply impossible, despite all that Sabriel said. The Empress was smart, but she possessed a naïveté concerning her son. Sarah could still vividly remember the meeting at the Downs between herself and the Empress, when Sabriel had discussed with the future Dauphine at length concerning her future husband, how he was different, and how Sarah would have to wean him away from his favorites. She had promised to do so, knowing how foolish and stupid she sounded. It was only know that she realized how stupid and jealous she had been. She had agreed to marry Frederick as a friend; not expecting any affection in return. But Sarah had lied to herself, for that is exactly what she wanted when she realized Frederick had abandoned her to be with his favorites. Yet that one phrase uttered by Sabriel still remained burned into her brain:

“I defeated the Dark Lord. Certainly taming a young man’s libido is a much simpler task?”

It was a much more difficult task simply because it was impossible. The Dark Lord could be defeated, but a libido could not be tamed if it desired something that Sarah was unable to offer. The experience in the Celestial Room had changed Sarah’s outlook; she was tired of being upset when it was clear that Frederick cared for her, at least a little bit. How could he not? He had risked his life for her, and she for him. While it certainly wouldn’t be a perfect marriage… it would be bearable. And that was all Sarah wanted for herself.

“I’m feeling better… are you?”

“Yes. I just wanted to come here, to tell you something.” Frederick responded, his expression almost blank.

“What is it?” She asked, concerned.

”I’m… sorry. I’m sorry for making you miserable.”

It was only after everything that Frederick felt some remorse for his actions. He had loved Marius, and Marius had been a tempering influence. But the Duc de Solre had only been intended to be a passing fling. Frederick did not love him, and he never believed that he did—he was flamboyant and fun, but desired to climb the pecking order at court. He used Frederick in that sense, amassing honors for himself, but also for his friends, who had become Frederick’s as well. It had been a continuous cycle for Frederick for as long as he could remember, a variety of friends who came and went, with very few who stayed for much longer. While Frederick doubted making any sweeping change in his life (could he, honestly?) he was at least motivated to make Sarah’s suffering as the future Dauphine and Queen of Serdio as easy as possible. She already had the daunting task of being the first lady of all ceremony one day, and bearing the throne a male heir. He didn’t need to make her life anymore worse than it already was.

“I’m sorry that I’m going to make you miserable.” Sarah replied, numbly.

And despite the macabre air that clung about the conversation, Frederick could not help but begin to chuckle. Sarah too, began to laugh at how absurd the situation was. Frederick was making her unhappy now, by leaving her to her devices and her maids as if she were a foreign princess, yet she would soon make him unhappy in due time—by shackling him to her in the sanctity of marriage, forcing herself upon him as his queen, being the mother of his children, and above all, his wife. Those words were very scary to Frederick, just as they were to her. His wife. It was a phrase so awkward, so detached from their actual situation that Sarah did not feel right calling herself that. But what else could she possibly be but his wife? When the vows were said and done, they were much more than friends. But at the same time, not really. Getting married so young was already a daunting task, but the unique situation they were in certainly didn’t make it any easier. If anything, it was going to be much, much worse.

“We are certainly a pair, aren’t we?” Frederick mused, a smile printed upon his face. “Yet despite how scary it is… I know that I would not want to marry anyone else but you. I know I have not made things easy for you these past few months, and I know I have made you unhappy. I just want you to know that things are going to get better. I am going to try to make an effort.”

“I feel the exact same way. I can’t imagine anyone as My Lord Husband,” At this, Sarah took on a mock-accent of Sabriel. “Except you. But thank you, Frederick. In the heat of the battle, I was actually surprised… surprised that you came to save me, not once, but twice. I know we are friends… but part of me wondered if perhaps you might want me dead, so to be free of the baggage. It is strange, but I must confess that I think I might love you, Frederick. I did not come into this expecting to love you; I knew why I agreed to this, to make things easier for you. But I do. I truly do.”

“And I might love you, too?” Frederick asked. “I don’t understand it either. I’ve never felt this way about a woman before… but I know that I couldn’t possibly imagine life without you. It isn’t the same feeling as I felt with Marius, but it is similar. I know I have hurt you, and I know Solre has disrespected you. Mother ordered I send him away, but I have dithered on this command. But I pledge to you, and only you, my future wife and queen, that it shall be done. Officially a Steward cannot be removed from his post unless he dies, but they can resign, with proper compensation. I will see to it that he and his influences are removed from my household.”

“Frederick, thank you. Truly. But we both know that this can’t last forever. You deserve to have love in your life… true love. There will be someone after Solre, who will be able to love you as you deserve to be loved. Someone that you can love. I cannot love you the way you need to be, and we both know this. I know there will be someone else to replace Solre… and when that day comes, I shall accept whoever he is as a true friend. Besides, how different is this than a queen being kind to her husbands mistress?”

Frederick could not help but laugh; people truly underestimated her wit. “I agree. But I will be more careful… and I will try to be firmer. Someone cannot love me unless they love you as well. Disrespect to yourself and your station are simply unacceptable at this point in time. You are just as well a member of my set as anyone else… except that you cannot ever be replaced; not ever.”

Although it seemed silly to her, Sarah could not help but fling herself into the arms of her prince, and for the first time they shared an embrace. Perhaps she lingered for a little too long, but Frederick held her tightly, for what seemed like an eternity. When it was all over, Sarah felt better. She knew that at the end of the day that she could count on Frederick to have her back. There would be no more despair concerning her future. She would bear it with as much regality as she could muster. Of course there would be ups and downs, good times and bad ones, but she was prepared to face them now that she had a loyal friend at her side. As she released from his grip, she felt herself taken with surprise as his fingers entwined with her, and he winked.

“Come on, we have a meeting with father.”

“Of course, Majesty.”

And with a giggle, they began to walk.

[Drake]

“His Highness, Frederick, Dauphin of Serdio, and Sarah, Countess of Trémoille!”

As the herald introduced the duo, the doors into the Blue Study were thrown open. A room known for to be the fountain of knowledge of the Vertfort, it was kept meticulously tidy, constantly cleaned, despite it created for the sole purpose of being a mess of treaties, papers, and various other items which pertained to the duties of rulership. Yet Frederick couldn’t help at be amazed at the lack of clutter… his father was typically a packrat (a trait which he undoubtedly inherited as his son), yet it seemed when it came to his actual duties he was much more tidy. Sarah was in awe herself, but mostly because she had never been allowed entry into the Blue Study before. A dedicated office for the King and the Empress, only political officials were allowed unprecedented access into the office. It was otherwise off limits, for there were too many precious state secrets that might end up leaked out to foreign enemies.

“My Lord Son and My Lady Daughter.” Drake said with smile, even plying on such formal titles in such an informal atmosphere. “Please, have a seat so we may discuss this travesty.”

Sarah was nervous to be meeting Drake. For all the myths and tales told about the man, he seemed to live up to the legends that surrounded him as a heroic savior of Serdio. Although he was older, he was certainly handsome in his own way and Sarah noted how much the Dauphin took after his father. With a faint smile, Sarah curtsied before her monarch, taking her seat. Frederick followed shortly after; he was used to such meetings with his father and although they could be daunting, he knew his father would not be drilling him on his ineptitudes and failures, but merely wanting to discuss what happened as reasonable adults. Part of the Dauphin felt relieved to have Sarah at his side, simply because he knew no humiliation would be forthcoming while she remained at his side and in the room with him and his father.

“Father, as you are well aware an attack took place in the palace three days ago—in the Celestial Room, part of my own suite as you are aware. It was a very peculiar attack, and cannot be described as an assassination attempt or anything similar, simply because it was not perpetrated by any individual. The valets present for the dinner actually transformed into the beasts that we fought. It was obviously some very dark magic at work—I’m not sure if the monsters were using the valets as hosts, or if they were actually the beasts the whole time, just in disguise… it is very difficult to say.”

“I see…” Drake was hard at thought regarding the entire matter. What else could he do, but increase security? It wasn’t everyday that monsters invaded his own home, and it certainly wasn’t everyday that he needed to take steps from preventing it from happening in the future. What could he do, seriously? All the guards in the world couldn’t stop evil from penetrating the walls in the palace. He let out a very heavy sigh. He hadn’t felt this helpless in ages, and couldn’t even think of a single thing to say. Even if Sabriel had been at his side, he would’ve felt the same. There was nothing even she could do; they were both human, after all… evil would always be around. It was simply up to those touched by it to extinguish it. Yet Drake was getting older… it was no doubt up to a new generation of heroes to be born to aid Zelpha when it needed it. “Do you have anything to add, Sarah?”

The Countess could only note that Drake didn’t speak for a very long time before referencing her. She had never met the king before this moment; it was the first time he had actually spoken to her. She had so much respect for him; it seemed almost surprising that he had no grand idea of scheme of things. Perhaps this is where Frederick got his indecision? No… perhaps he just wasn’t sure what to do. That was different. Sarah flashed a weak smile at her king as she was referenced. “No, Your Majesty. What Frederick says is exactly what happened.”

Drake bit his lip at this. “Then that is all I needed to know. I do not wish to bother you two very much about it, for it would be useless to do so. Just rest well knowing that you are safe. I do not know what terrible demons might be lurking around these days… but you need not worry. Guards have been posted as an extra precaution and I will see to it that the Celestial Room is renovated. In the mean time, I want both of you taking up lodgings at Terebithia Palace in Ivendell, at least for a little while. I do not think anything else will happen, but just to be safe. It is far from Esto Gaza. Whenever things have been wrapped up here, you are welcome to return. Besides, it will be good for you to visit your cousin, Leto. No representative of Sade has visited since his coronation and will be good to show him he still remains a part of our palace.”

“Thank you, father.” Frederick replied, with a long bow. With that, the meeting was settled, and Sarah and Frederick were sent off to pack a few things as quickly as possible. The sooner they were at Ivendell, the better.

[Elessar]

It was a relatively normal day in the Imperial Throne Room. It was the time of day when the King was sitting on the throne, taking petitions and accepting visitors and the like, holding court, as it were.

When a rather minor petition had been made to the King, and granted, the petitioner had, with a gross of deep bows, made his way from the throne room. At this point, however, the herald was silent, his mouth wide. Of course, he recovered quickly and then read from the paper announcing, with only a slight hesitation -

"Tatyanna Mithran, the Princess Mithran, and Aurelie du Thermon, the Viscountess Marue!"

Entering the throne room now with a slight flourish of richly colored blue robes, with a silver trimming, came Tatyanna's tall and slender form. She was obviously aged from her last appearances in the Royal court, decades in the past, but there was no doubt in the mind of any who had known her that this was, in fact, the Princess, without even the slightest appearance of an impostor.

Behind her, however, was a much more curious figure. Aurelie was several inches shorter than the Princess, but did not have the same grace to her movement as her stepmother. She was also rather richly attired, in a well-tailored cut of witch's robes, except these were a deep red, a maroon, with gold trimmings (the same color as her golden eyes), unlike the blue of the other woman.

Tatyanna made her way up through the Throne Room directly toward the King, her eyes only slightly inclined downward, in a sign of respect. As she got to the proper distance, Tatyanna, maneuvered her robes slightly as she made a deep bow to the King, as Aurelie did the same, though with a very slight stumble, unlike the smooth movements of Tatyanna.

Tatyanna, only rising herself slightly, so as to look up at the King,

"Your majesty, my lord the King, I present myself humbly at your service. I apologize most profusely for my long absence from your presence and dominions."

[Drake]

Drake was alone in the throne room, overseeing petitions and audiences as he always had. Sabriel was conspicuously absent, but Drake knew it was for good reason—she often had more important matters to tend too, and Drake could easily count the times when Sabriel had to oversee the throne room by herself, when he had been absent because of other concerns. As a man bowed low before the king, presenting a petition to prevent the building of train tracks over a certain forest, or something of the sort, Drake stifled a yawn. It was far too early for such dreary matters, and Drake felt a little guilty that he wasn’t paying proper attention to the requests. He was accepting them without paying much thought to matter, figuring it was best to approve them now and deal with the headache later. If the paperwork didn’t add up, or Drake was displeased, he could easily reverse his decision at a later date. As he signaled forward the next petitioner, something concerning a title which had been attained some years previously, the herald announced an expected visitor which caused Drake’s ears to perk up.

“Her Highness, Tatyanna, the Princess of Mithran and Lady Aurelie, Viscountess of Marue!”

The announcement chilled Drake to the bone. The Princess of Mithran? Drake shuddered to think about it; the sister of his cousin, Elessar? He knew the fate of that poor man he hated for so many years, executed by the very people he had tried to help. There had been no news of his sister Tatyanna; although Drake had not been close to her, but he only had to conclude that she too had perished in the revolution as well. There had been tales of disappearance and other such wild ideas, but Drake had simply dismissed them as that—mere stories. With the Princess gone, and Elessar dead, the Mithran family had gone extinct and its assets (at the Restoration being simply Sac Fin) lapsed to Drake. The sudden announcement of the Princess in the throne room had a profound sense of shock on his face. Drake dismissed the current petitioner without even listening him and beckoned for the two women to come forth.

“Is it… truly? My cousin? Come forth.”

Drake looked hard at the much older woman as she stepped forth. He searched in his memories for some sign, something, or anything that would point that this was truly Tatyanna, sister of Elessar and at this point the last legitimate member of the House of Mithran. The woman seemed to carry herself with the proper air and hauteur of a member of the royal family, and although such things were instilled from birth, they were certainly things that could be learned and did not mark Tatyanna. Looking at her face clearly, Drake felt a flush of emotion. That familiar shape, from her chin to her eyes, it all came rushing back. Drake remembered his days as Dauphin when they played within the palace, when Tatyanna and Elessar accompanied the Queen as well as Drake to the Petit Royale on the grounds of Mystice. He remembered the rushing up and down the stairs, being scolded by his father, and all the other fond memories. There was no denying it.

“If you are truly my cousin, Your Highness… you do not mind a simple question?”

[Elessar]

Tatyanna rose up, looking her cousin in the eyes, remembering, with a jolt of pain, the years of her youth, before the Revolution, at Mystice. Of course, she was an apprentice - she was working. But they were the best times of her life. And they were gone.

But she quickly regained her composure, and, with a slight bowing of the head, "Of course not, your majesty. I have no such objections."

[Drake]

“I have gathered a variety of scratches, cuts, bumps, bruises, and even scars throughout my life. I have earned all of these from battle, but some also from other situations… especially from the time of my reckless youth. I have a very specific scar, from a very specific event. Only you, if you are truly who you say are, will know where this scar is and why I have it.”

Drake had no doubt in his mind that he was speaking to his cousin. But there was no way he could seriously acknowledge her in a situation like this, without any questions asked. The courtiers would no doubt talk, and spread their rumors. If she answered this question correctly (as Drake knew she would), then those present in the room would certainly spread the news like a wildfire. There would be no doubt concerning the legitimacy of the returned Princess Tatyanna, her honors could be restored easily and as quickly as possible, without worries of dealing with the sometimes convoluted justices. Perhaps Drake was being too political about the matter, but he knew in his heart that it was the right think to do to allow Tatyanna to return to the life she properly deserved and was entitled too with as few complications as possible. As Drake sat back, he relaxed a little as he awaited an answer. He could already tell the room was tense, the hangers-on standing in their corners, whispering about what was taking place before their very eyes. Was it truly she? Why was she returning now? Where had she seriously been?

“You must understand why We must ask such a silly question. The House of Mithran is a very august and ancient house. If such distinctions existed amongst the aristocracy, they would no doubt be the ‘first amongst equals,’ kings before the king, so to speak. What they have given to our country, what they have sacrificed for the ideals of our dynasty cannot be forgotten. A daughter of the Mithrans bore Our Grandfather, the savior King Graith who delivered Serdio from the troubles when it seemed destined to cease to exist… yet his mother also had a sister, the woman who would bear the girl who would become his bride. They are a legitimate strain of Our family. When Our Grandfather broke the backs of the rebellious nobles, the Mithrans were the first to submit. When Our Father demanded the sons of so many families to fight and die the dreaded hills of Daio alongside Hayholt, they were the first to volunteer. And when We found ourselves assaulted and thrown away, the Mithrans were the first to defend Our honor. Who would not want to be associated with such a great lineage?”

[Elessar]

Tatyanna managed to keep her face without emotion as the King spoke, lauding her ancestors' house. Internally, she was very pleased - part of her, despite her short return earlier, had thought she might have to fight to get back the Mithran rights, even the King, had her brother stayed out of his favor. Fortunately, history seemed to recall her martyred brother fondly, along all the other heroes of the House of Mithran - going back long, long before the events which Drake now recited.

She could feel her apprentice's shock even as she kept her eyes carefully locked upon the King's figure. It had never really gotten through to Aurelie how wealthy, how powerful, how great her stepmother's house truly was. Living in the exile on Ailleurs certainly didn't help anyone's sense of history, as nice a life as Tatyanna had had on the far-flung island.

Tatyanna, herself, was sometimes awed by her own house. The descendants of elves who had merged into the humans of Serdio - their power before the Rlugias, and during and after. How many Mithran lords had ruled large parts of Serdio fairly and justly, from Adab Lach? Tatyanna certainly could recount precious little of Mithran history herself.

When the King had finished his question, and his long speech, Tatyanna bowed her head slightly before straightening again, and beginning to speak,

"Your majesty most assuredly flatters your servant and her house. In the names of all my ancestors, I thank you for the words of praise you so generously bestow upon us mere servants of the Crown."

Tatyanna, now, had a look of thought on her face, the first emotion she allowed to flitter out from her careful visage, before giving a slight smile, giving the appearance of a crack in her controlled expression.

"Of course, your majesty, despite the many long years which have been visited on us all since the days of our youth, I could never forget the incident to which you refer. Your majesty was seven years of age, my lord brother, thirteen, and I, nine. My lord brother and your majesty, not unlike boys of that age, teamed up to torment me, probably not the healthiest of sports.

"I was insufferably boring, to an extent, in that time of our lives, especially to boys of our age. Your majesty and my lord brother pretended to be interested in what I was studying, and my lord brother and your majesty targeted the Kenjikian wisdom I was reading for ridicule - specifically that L'épée n'est pas si puissante que le stylo. Your majesty relieved me of my pen, playing with it in your majesty's left hand as your majesty held a wooden sword in the right, mimicking a battle between the pen and the sword - the latter, clearly, winning.

"In a huff of anger, after your majesty's repeated refusal to return the pen, I attempted to retrieve the pen using my own wild magic. I reached for the pen with the wind, but, instead of pulling it to myself, I released it from your majesty's grip, and it flew, point first, past the sword and across your majesty's right arm, causing your majesty, in pain, to drop the sword. The metallic pen cut rather more deeply than one would expect, and your majesty's arm was in pain for nearly a week afterward - actually proving my point to your majesty. I apologized by having our family's head chef prepare several dozen sweet biscuits for your majesty, and 'helping' in the sense that I stood in the way and told him what to do as he did it." Tatyanna finished, with the faintest of smirks.

"If memory serves me," Tatyanna said, looking, now, pointedly toward Drake's right side, "the scar across half your forearm looks rather like a numeral 7, uncrossed. And, once again, I do apologize for my part in the incident," Tatyanna concluded, a slightly mischievous look on her face, "It was neither intentional nor with malicious feeling toward your majesty's august person. I'm sure I could have more biscuits made, if it would help," she said, with another, more obvious smirk.

[Drake]

Drake smiled, however faintly as Tatyanna recalled the scene with almost perfect precision. Drake remained silent for a moment, watching as the courtiers in the corner huddled around the corner in quiet whispers. Had she answered his questions correctly? Was it really Tatyanna? With such an extraordinary answer, there was no doubt that she strange woman could be lying to everyone in front of her, most of all the king. Drake himself knew for sure—any small cloud of doubt that had clung over his person was no dispelled in favor of welcoming Tatyanna back into the arms of her rightful family. Yet Drake knew such touching scenes were improper in front of so many people in the public rooms, and were better away from the prying eyes of the public. It was time to wrap this up so Drake could discuss things such as her return privately. What he saw fit to reveal to the public he would do so in good time, but now he wanted answers for himself.

“I believe that is enough for today. Madame? If you would care to join me in the Gold Room at your leisure, I would be most appreciative. I am done hearing petitions today. Anything else will have to be taken up by the proper officials.”

As Drake rose up from his throne, those courtiers present in the room ceased their idle prattle and bowed before their sovereign. Drake carried himself with the proper air befitting these situations, gracefully walking past Tayanna and her young ward, down the fine plush carpet that decorated throne room. As Drake approached the door, it was thrown open by the two valets allowing Drake to progress forward without any halt. Even as herald announced the departure of Drake and his array of titles, Drake was in a distant dream as he walked out of the throne room and into the vast halls of the Vertfort.

He knew his destination now, and he knew that his cousin would follow in due time—he couldn’t afford to be too friendly, not in such a public situation. Yet an invitation into the Gold Room was far better than any tearful embrace, for it was the private domain of his family (that is, his immediate family). By dispensing Tatyanna an invitation, especially one to come at her leisure, Drake had effectively recognized her in the most tactic way possible.

It didn’t take Drake very long to reach the Gold Room from the throne room. The Gold Room was one of the few private rooms to exist on the first floor of the Vertfort, which for all intents and purposes existed solely to put the Royal Family on display. It wasn’t as terrible as the grandeur that Graith had surrounded him with, the petty and archaic rituals that suited that man but had bored both his son and grandson. Things were quite different now. Archaic offices had been abolished, the households sized down, and many of the rituals Drake had no taste for had been done away with.

Yet the politics of display still existed in the Vertfort, however subtle. Many of the rooms on the first floor were public, allowing the courtiers to come and go as they pleased. It was only in the sanctuary of the Gold Room, the family suite that Drake could escape. He had always loathed being constantly on display; he had learned from a very young age that how he acted effected how others would think of him. It was a scary thought. As Drake stood in the corner of the room, looking out the window, he wished things were simpler.

He was shirking on his duties; he and Sabriel had carried the workload of Sade equally, at least first, aside from his sudden departure upon the signing of the Charter. Yet already now Drake could tell he abandoning his work. He was handing off papers that rightfully were his to deal with, ordering the couriers to take them to the Empress, as they required her attention, not his. The worse part of it all was that he was not abandoning his work for pleasurable pursuits as he had in his youth. He did not do it to hunt, or even to walk. He did for absolutely no reason at all, rather than being able to sit in this very place, the Gold Room, by himself. It didn’t make much sense, most especially to himself. He would enter the room., lock it, and sit there for hours. All he did was stare at the walls. He wondered sometimes if he even blinked. He had always enjoyed peaceful moments to himself, especially after seeking exile in Meria. They had decreased slightly upon his return to Serdio, and had nearly faded. But now they were back, more than ever.

Drake was confused. He struggled to remember anything of those long periods of time, anything of use, but it seemed as if it were a blank spot in his mind. As he moved away from the window towards the bar to fix himself a glass of Langean whiskey, he sighed as he reached for the bottle, pouring the amber liquid into a small glass and downing it without a single thought. These periods were interfering with his life; sometimes he would sit there quietly, missing dinner and other activities, only reluctantly heading to bed late at night, when he knew for sure that Sabriel would be asleep.

Sometimes she would be awake, though. She seemed anxious during those times, questioning where he had been all day. This caused the king to panic, and out of panic, he lied. He feigned that he had went into the city proper to meet with some important officials, or anything else he could think of. He had never lied to Sabriel before recently. Ever. Yet he was afraid to admit even to her that he had been sitting in the Gold Room, all by himself, just staring at the wall. Part of him swore that even when he was about his duties as a normal person, he saw things that were not there, and heard strange sounds too. He was getting older, of course… but it didn’t add up. His mother certainly did see shadow like figures dance across the room, nor did she hear demonic cackles. It honestly scared him. When Frederick reported the attack from his room, he thought maybe it made sense. But the monsters Frederick saw were not the things he saw, and definately not the things he heard.

Drake only hoped that Tatyanna would come sooner rather than later. He needed to escape from his thoughts for awhile.