[center][h1][color=ab274f]Wulfric[/color] & [color=93a477]Zarai[/color] Part 1[/h1]
[b]The 23rd of Sola, at night: After the masquerade[/b][/center][hr][hr]
[color=lightgray]Wulfric nodded as he noticed Zarai signaling him from the distance, acknowledging her nonverbal gesture, and subtly motioned for her to go ahead. After he and Lord Drake Edwards had drifted apart, the royal idled by the buffet. Perplexingly, he was soon drawn into a rather…[i]intense[/i] interaction with Fritz, of all people.

When he and Zarai met up, it was later at night. Wulfric found her lounging on a couch in one of the guesthouse’s drawing rooms. He was still in his full costume; he must have just returned from the masquerade. [color=ab274f]“Zarai,”[/color] he greeted her. His tone was a notch warmer than usual.

However, as he examined her closely, his eyes narrowed. Her black sleeves were sheer enough for him to notice something [i]off.[/i] Suddenly, he stepped closer. First, he removed his gloves, storing them into an inner pocket. Then, with gentle motions and a featherlight touch, he pushed the sleeve of her dress up her arm, revealing the bruise forming beneath. [color=ab274f][i]“Who.”[/i][/color] His voice took on a deeply frigid quality.

He was asking because given its size and shape, the handprint must be a man’s. Had it been a woman’s, he’d have assumed the culprit to be her mother. In which case, he would have said nothing. Zarai wasn’t the only one with a [i]hands-on[/i] parent. A shared commonality of theirs they had noticed years ago, and had decided not to speak of by way of silent agreement.

But because the mark was left by someone he didn’t know about, Wulfric reiterated, [color=ab274f]“Who needs to die.”[/color]

As she contemplated the bruise, Zarai's mind raced with thoughts and emotions. She knew she should be furious at Monet for even daring to lay his nasty, grubby hands on her, but the lingering dread and fear outweighed her anger. The realization that she had finally stood up to face Lord Monet's aggression left her feeling vulnerable and exposed. 

Feelings she did not wish to linger on.

[color=93a477]“Lord Marcus Monet,”[/color] Zarai spoke his name with disdain, her lip curling in distaste. Uttering his name felt like expelling venom with every syllable and left a bad taste in her mouth. She knew Wulfric’s options against him were limited due to Monet’s strong ties with the Varian crown. Despite this, the idea of his death brought some satisfaction. [color=93a477]“He is my mother’s top choice for my hand.” [i]And only one, so far.[/i][/color] She sniffed her arm, [color=93a477]“He didn’t leave his stench on me, did he? Ugh, I ought to burn this dress, but that would be a waste of perfectly good fabric.”[/color]

At the mention of that name, Wulfric clicked his tongue, as if dismissing the off-handed notion of assassination once he learned who the man was. But he didn’t.


Oh, no, indeed he did not. He merely shelved it for the moment.


Gently, he rolled Zarai’s sleeve back down, once again concealing the bruise. [color=ab274f]“And for once in your life, you are listening to her?”[/color] he questioned. He could surmise that the lord was her last option, what with her reputation in Varian. [color=ab274f]“Is that why you spoke to Auguste?”[/color] he suddenly recalled. Her question led to an amused huff. [color=ab274f]“A moment,”[/color] he drawled. He removed his mask, and put it on the nearest surface. The silver metal gleamed brightly, its curved, menacing shape set against the marble end table.


Wulfric shook his hair loose, and carded a hand through it. Because it was rather warm, he removed his feathered cloak, and threw it onto the couch where it landed with a soft clanking of chains. Underneath, he wore a simple if elegant black tunic lined with silver. Taking off the cloak revealed his weapons; a shortsword belted at his hip, and a revolver holstered at the small of his back. 

[color=93a477]"Yes,"[/color] Zarai sighed. There was no point in lying to Wulfric; he’d just see right through her anyway. [color=93a477]“Although, I fear my proposition may have been a touch too bold for dear Auguste,”[/color] she admitted, leaning back on the couch, her gaze fixed on Wulfric. She couldn’t help but let her eyes wander over him, taking in his every movement. He was undeniably attractive– and pretty, too– but she would never admit to it aloud. Zarai refused to stroke his ego. 

Freed from his costume, Wulfric settled in next to Zarai. [color=ab274f]“Allow me…”[/color] he offered his hand palm up, waiting for her to set hers into his. When she did, he delicately scented the air around her. Immediately, his nose wrinkled, and he pushed her arm away - largely in jest. [color=ab274f]“It’s faint. I’m sure you’ll be fine,”[/color] he waved a hand dismissively. [color=ab274f]“So, are you now seriously considering courting?”[/color] he gave her a look, eyebrow quirked.

She appeared momentarily offended before realizing he was only playing with her. [color=93a477]"What? Is it truly so difficult to imagine?"[/color] she retorted, a wry smile playing on her lips. [color=93a477]"Mother left me with no choice; it's either I find someone else—someone who meets her demanding standards—or be shackled to [i]that[/i],"[/color] she added, a shudder of disgust running through her at the thought. There was only herself to blame; had she fought against the rumors of her tainted reputation, the search might have been different.

[color=ab274f]“No choice?”[/color] Wulfric repeated. [color=ab274f]“No eloping, absconding, relinquishing your status and becoming a commoner?”[/color] he wondered. [color=ab274f]“Were those not the choices you had had in mind once upon a time?”[/color] A hint of that sharp criticism she despised so much crept into his tone. Yet, he genuinely was curious, and at least attempted to curb the sarcasm.

Zarai scoffed at the suggestion. [color=93a477]“No, I won’t run away.”[/color] She glanced down at her hands. [color=93a477]“Got any suggestions for me?”[/color] Zarai returned the quirked brow, [color=93a477]“Any handsome, ridiculously rich gentlemen looking for an experienced wife?”[/color]

With a sigh, the prince leaned back against the backrest, observing his - as much as it pained him to admit it - friend. He seriously contemplated her question, sensing it was far more important than Zarai’s joking tone might lead one to believe. [color=ab274f]“Well, despite what you’ve said about Auguste, he isn’t one to balk easily. As I recall, [i]you[/i] were the one to run away.”[/color] His gaze narrowed, and his chin raised haughtily as he gave her a warning look. [color=ab274f]“Yet, even if [i]he[/i] were to permit it, [i]I[/i] would not allow you to continue your openly promiscuous ways if you were to marry [i]my brother[/i].”[/color]


Yes, he too, was demanding; as Zarai liked to say, just as much if not worse than her mother.


But when the tense seconds passed, he eased up. [color=ab274f]“Then, in recent memory…Cassius Vael, now Damien. A bastard, but Calbert’s, and one he clearly intends to treat as a legitimate son.”[/color] Despite his personal distaste for Cassius, there was no indication of it, his tone entirely factual. [color=ab274f]“Shahzade Munir has a reputation similar to yours, I believe.”[/color] He did not know much else about the man, unfortunately. 


[color=ab274f]“If rich is enough, even a merchant would do.”[/color] He was sure Duchess Lesdeman had in mind a landed noble, however. By way of association, something occurred to him, and he snapped his fingers. [color=ab274f]“Ah. How close are you to Count Fritz Hendrix, exactly?”[/color] He recalled having seen them together at the ball his family had hosted. [color=ab274f]“And before you say, [i]yes[/i], I am aware your mother would disapprove.”[/color] The mild grimace indicated he had experienced the duchess’ vitriol against anyone bearing the name Hendrix.

Zarai's fingers played with the edge of her sleeve as she considered the suggestions laid out before her. Among them, Shahzade Munir stood out as a viable option. However, she was much more drawn to his sister, Layla, who exuded a commanding presence that could persuade Zarai to do almost anything. Yet, she knew her mother would never entertain such a union, regardless of Layla's wealth or potential future role as a Sultana.

A memory surfaced, accompanied by a voice that made her stomach clench, and her heart flutter. [color=9354FF][i]“Your hands are beautiful… You [i]are[/i] beautiful, Zarai.”[/i][/color] She pushed the memory aside as shame overtook her. [color=93a477]"Count Hendrix is a friend,"[/color] she said firmly. And if he were to be safe, he’d remain so.

At her assertion, Wulfric gave her a look – the kind that made it clear to her he thought she was being silly. [color=ab274f]“Zarai…[i]A friend[/i] is [i]exactly[/i] who you should consider. Marriage with someone you can get along with— It is a valuable thing.”[/color]

[color=93a477]“[i]Tch.[/i]”[/color] Zarai slumped against the back of the couch, grateful for the tightness of her corset that provided some cushioning for her still-bruised ribs. [color=93a477]“I could marry Monet,”[/color] she mused, her voice laced with bitterness. [color=93a477]“Endure for a night or two, then kill him in his sleep. A nice soft pillow over his head for a few minutes.”[/color] She didn’t meet Wulfric’s gaze as she continued. [color=93a477]“Or poison. They say poison is a woman’s weapon, don’t they? A bit of it in his morning tea or porridge would do the trick.”[/color] She was unsure if she said it in jest or was seriously considering it. Though, it would be her last resort. 

While Zarai was averting her gaze, Wulfric studied her, free of judgment. [color=ab274f]“[i]If[/i] you could endure it,”[/color] he pointed out, tone serious. [color=ab274f]“It might have to be for longer than you are thinking. Weeks. Months. [i]Years,[/i]”[/color] he warned. He knew from his mother just how difficult it was to get rid of an unwanted but well-positioned husband. He told her as much: [color=ab274f]“It wouldn’t be difficult for him to guess at your designs. He could blackmail you. Threaten you. Manipulate and pressure you until you feel [i]you have no choice[/i], again.”[/color] He waited as long as it took for her to absorb that. When she did, he moved closer, within whispering distance. [color=ab274f]“If we are to arrange [i]an accident[/i], it will have to be very, [i]very[/i] thorough,”[/color] he relayed quietly, the smirk audible in his tone. Then he leaned back, as satisfied as a cat who got the cream.

She considered his words for a moment, reluctantly acknowledging their truth. As much as she hated to admit it, Wulfric was right. Despite Monet's repulsiveness, he was a man of power who could indeed make good on his threats. How else did such a man turn a crumbling House into what it is today? However, Wulfric’s last sentence echoed in her mind like ripples in a lake of red. Yet, the fact he was saying those words to her felt somewhat comforting. 

[color=93a477]"And what about you?"[/color] Zarai inquired, suddenly intrigued by Wulfric's marital status. [color=93a477]"I mean to say, not with me—[i]gods, no[/i]—but has anyone caught Your Highness's eye?"[/color]

Immediately, the inquiry had him raising his brows. For a moment, he thought Zarai had taken his advice to marry a friend far too liberally. As she clarified, however, he grew visibly relieved. [color=ab274f]“Oh, good. You had me worried you had gone insane,”[/color] he flashed her a knowing smile and she returned the same smile, rolling her eyes. Wulfric was sure both of them would sooner see the world end than entertain marrying each other. He hummed and stretched as he mulled over the question.

[color=ab274f]“Well…There [i]was[/i] Mayet, but she proved too immature, and had to return home. [i]Before[/i] we could duel, even,”[/color] he sighed, evidently disappointed. [color=ab274f]“The dinner!”[/color] he suddenly exclaimed, as something occurred to him. [color=ab274f]“Had [i]I[/i] been at that damned dinner, I could have demanded an honour duel.”[/color] He stood up, agitated, and paced across the room. He stopped at the alcohol cabinet, and collected glasses and a drink. [color=ab274f]“Oh, look, there’s one of your favourites.”[/color] He poured himself a shot, downed it, and followed it with another. He brought the drinks over, poured for the both of them, and handed a glass to Zarai as he retook his seat.

Zarai snorted at his reaction, unsurprised over his very obvious disappointment. [color=93a477]“I did hear that the dinner was a complete shitshow, plates thrown and all. I would have paid to be there.”[/color] She took the glass and sipped from it as Wulfric continued. At least now their future dinners with the Alidasht would be more peaceful with Mayet gone.

[color=ab274f]“A shitshow indeed,”[/color] he confirmed. After a pause to ruminate on the event, he went down the list of the candidates for marriage.

[color=ab274f]“Of the Alidastht, there was that cousin of theirs,”[/color] he referenced Saiya, [color=ab274f]“but the Grand Vizier is her adoptive father,”[/color] he shook his head. [color=ab274f]“Then there is Layla,”[/color] he smirked at Zarai, [color=ab274f]“who is more your type, I believe?”[/color] Frankly, the woman’s age was an issue too; with her being almost 30, they would need to get to the whole procreating matter [i]very[/i] quickly. [color=ab274f]“I have yet to acquaint myself with Shehzadi Nahir, but I would like to.”[/color] From his assessment, they were both manipulative, diplomatic, and secretive. Given their similarities, perhaps they would be compatible - or perhaps, they would clash.

[color=ab274f]“From Varian, I would consider only Princess Beatrice, but I do not believe she or her parents would be inclined to the union. In Caesonia, there are a few more choices…”[/color] he trailed off, unenthused. [color=ab274f]“I suppose if I had to pick someone, it would be Priscilla Edwards.”[/color] He did not mean the reluctance as a slight against her. If anything, it was a sign of his esteem that he considered her an acceptable option.

[color=93a477]“The Edwardses are incredibly wealthy,”[/color] Zarai nodded, contemplating his choices. [color=93a477]“What of the Damien girls; what was it? Violet and Crystina?”[/color] She tapped her fingers over her glass, humming in thought, [color=93a477]“Doesn’t Duke Vikena have a daughter too?”[/color] She paused, recalling the rumors she had heard about Charlotte. She didn’t think the rumors about her were true; she found them stupid and unfounded. And still, they mirrored her own predicament back in Varian and she couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity for her.

[color=93a477]“Although, if you are seeking a strong union, I'd suggest considering the Ganasea princess. It's unfortunate that Mayet couldn’t be here, you two would have made quite a cute couple.”[/color] She flashed him a teasing smile before taking another sip from her glass. 

[color=ab274f]“I do not wish to allow [i]Calbert[/i] of all people to marry into my family,”[/color] he told her. [color=ab274f]“As for the ladies themselves…There is something [i]off[/i] about Violet - have you seen her lately?”[/color] he commented. [color=ab274f]“And Crystal is like a rabbit,”[/color] he waved a dismissive hand. A sheltered, naive, fearful woman was difficult to see as anything but a child.
 
He grimaced at the mention of Duke Vikena. [color=ab274f]“Good Gods, to have [i]Lorenzo[/i] as an in-law,”[/color] he mock-shuddered. [color=ab274f]“Charlotte is fine, though, I suppose. But I am expecting her to take the reins of her duchy as soon as possible.”[/color] In which case, she couldn’t exactly double up as a queen. 

There was also the matter of his general lack of interest, but that wasn’t something Zarai needed to know.

[color=ab274f]“Believe me, I am considering all options,”[/color] he sighed lightly. He raised a nonchalant shoulder at her attempt at teasing; he frankly only regretted not having been able to duel Mayet. [color=ab274f]“She was far too volatile. Throwing a knife, and holding a foreign dignitary at blade-point in a fit of rage?”[/color] he shook his head. 

[color=93a477]"I found her arrogance rather charming,"[/color] Zarai hummed as she not-so-gracefully rose from her seat. Almost instantly, the room began to spin in a pleasantly numbing manner, just the way she liked. With a carefree attitude, she kicked off her heels;  they were just an accident waiting to happen. She sauntered over to the bookcases that lined one of the walls.

[color=ab274f]“Of course you did,”[/color] he snorted. [color=ab274f]“Yet, I distinctly recall you saying in the past that, and I quote, my arrogance was one of my most unfortunate traits,”[/color] he paraphrased with an eye roll. It’s not as if it offended or upset him, but it was a mystery why she favoured women the more insolent they were. Granted, he too, had found Mayet’s haughtiness intriguing, so he wasn’t in much of a position to criticize Zarai for the same.

[color=93a477]“And still is,”[/color] Zarai shot him a pointed look before returning to her search.[/color]