The Snuggery
“On waves of gold,
She waits for me.
The sands of time,
Shift to the sea.
On waves of gold,
She smiles at me.
To her embrace–
We’ll be happy…”Rosemary’s voice carried through the majority of the room and greeted her guests before the princess would do so herself. She sat at a round table, slippered feet swinging back and forth without care. Her hands clutched a delicate looking cup but she made no effort to drink from it, golden eyes staring at the table.
The snuggery was elegantly decorated and looked to belong to someone much older than a six year old. The walls were painted a soft gue of gold and amber, flowing curtains draping the windows. The furniture was well maintained and carved of mahogany, a beautiful piano sitting in one corner of the room painted to match. Another corner boasted a small collection of what looked like picture books in an adorable reading nook. In the furthest corner was a miniature wooden castle bigger than the young princess that was modeled after the same castle they were currently in.
At the arrival of her first guest, Rosemary looked up from the table with a bright expression.
“Sonia?” She asked, her expression falling a touch as she realized her protector hadn’t returned just yet. Nonetheless, she hopped down from her chair, revealing a simple, cream colored gown. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail with a blue ribbon, and tiny bunnies decorated the slippers she wore.
She picked up the skirt of her dress and curtsied properly.
“Welcome, my honored guests,” Came a mechanical and well rehearsed greeting.
“I am Princess Rosemary Clarabel Bachmeier Veradis and I am happy you decided to take up my invitation.”Raising her head, she dropped her dress and looked up at each person, a tiny frown on her face.
“...my heart is beating really fast so the Duchess said maybe this was a good idea ‘cause the party was scary,” She ended up admitting.
“But we have tea here, and tea always helps ‘cause it’s warm and tastes like honey. Or I can read a story. I have Petey’s Pumpkin and Messy Marie and William’s Prayer so I can read and we can drink tea. Do you want a cup…?” She offered the room at large, looking at each Scion as her hand touched the table boasting a teapot and several empty cups.
Over the drum of the Damias at work, a pair of medical professionals approached the machine. One double checked the settings and made sure Maya was comfortable while the other placed a delicate chair down not too far from the Scion. After a few seconds, the curtain was drawn and the Templar of Water, Abram, cautiously led Princess Belle to her seat.
“Worry not, Princess, I was assured by the duchess that these professionals are some of the finest,” He assured her. Once Belle was properly seated, he knelt down next to her.
“I have been summoned by Dame Albakova. I will return once our business is concluded.”The blonde let out a heavy sigh.
“I’ll be retiring after this; I’ve had too much excitement tonight and a bath sounds divine,” She admitted, wincing as she instinctively tried to wave him away. He nonetheless understood and bowed to her before leaving. She gave the room a look at last, letting herself look tired. Her eyes landed on the Damias and she realized Maya was in there.
Suppressing a giggle, Belle rested her chin on her right hand as her lips curved into a smile.
“Oh my goodness, I think that gown may be your best look yet,” She couldn’t stop herself from teasing.
It had taken a few minutes for Maya to get comfortable inside the Damias. She was no big fan of small spaces, but the device did a good job of mitigating her burgeoning claustrophobia: it was lit softly, with a gentle breeze circulating fresh air throughout the glass compartment, and if she closed her eyes and focused hard enough, she could convince herself that she was laying in an open room rather than a glass coffin. It took a few tries, but she eventually relaxed, especially as the Damias’ healing effect started to take hold. Soon, she had nearly drifted off to sleep - until an unwelcome voice disturbed her.
Her eyes flew open at the sound, and for a second, panic gripped her as she was met with the sight of her reflection in the Damias lid, only inches away from her face. She didn’t get the chance to glare disapprovingly at her unwelcome guest; she had to close her eyes again and take a deep breath, willing herself to be calm and imagine a larger space around her.
“You’re awfully chipper for surviving a terrorist attack,” Maya finally shot back coldly, not opening her eyes. If the pain medication she’d been given dulled her irritation at all, she couldn’t tell.
“Or did you avoid the mess by flushing yourself down the toilet?”Belle let her laugh ring out.
“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. I can’t say this is the first or last time I’ll be attacked,” She replied.
“That’s the life of a royal, after all–people will always target the powerful and beautiful since they envy our position. I can see how that could be confusing since you’re only a Scion.”“Oh, blow it out your ass, Princess,” Maya huffed, much too drained to bother coming up with a sly remark. Irritation was more welcome a feeling than the fear and panic that had previously seized her, but she was perilously low on patience for entitled brats. She felt around the Damias for a call button to have Belle removed from the room, but came up empty.
“Can’t they treat your broken nail somewhere else?” Maya complained,
“Maybe if you go somewhere private you can bribe the medic for a pelvic exam.” Belle was entirely amused by Maya’s words.
“Projecting, much? I could be a friend and ask on your behalf if you’d like,” She said cheerfully.
The medic returned and checked on the screen at the base of Maya’s feet before turning his attention to Belle. She temporarily ignored Maya and gave the medical staff her attention, looking much wearier.
“I still can’t move my arm. Is it broken?” She asked, a little worried.
“Could you tell me your symptoms, Your Highness?” The medic asked her.
“It feels weak and I can’t move it,” She frowned.
He paused for a moment before he tenderly touched her shoulder. “I believe it’s dislocated. Please fetch something for the pain,” He asked another medic before turning back to Belle. “I can put it back right away.”
The princess stiffened considerably, her smile widening. Her eyes flickered to Maya briefly and she cleared her throat.
“Very well, then…” There was the tiniest waver in her voice, her eyes glued to the medic as he took his place next to her.
“...I don’t suppose you could–”“Please look at your friend in the Damias, Princess,” The medic instructed.
Belle let out a laugh, looking back at Maya.
“Did you hear that? We’re frie–EEYAAAAAHHH!” Her sentence was punctuated by an unwilling shriek erupting from her throat. She immediately whipped her head back to the medic, furious.
“Must you manhandle me so?!”The medic, likely used to hearing such things, nodded. “Yes, Your Highness. This is the easiest way to go about it, but I urge you not to move your arm too much just yet,” He said as the other medic returned with a small tray that had what looked like several bandages and an ace bandage. “I promise, you’ll be right as rain in the morning. These will help you with the irritation, swelling, and pain, and they’re waterproof so you can have a bath if you so wish.”
Maya was about to unleash an even less polite insult when the medics returned, and she was forced to hold her tongue as the
Princess got her arm looked at. Eyes still stubbornly closed, she huffed out a breath as Belle chided her, only to jump when she suddenly shrieked. Maya started to jolt up, thinking they were under attack again, but Belle’s complaint quickly banished her fear, replaced by a laugh that she struggled to conceal as a cough.
“Efficient here, aren’t they?” Maya teased at last, smirking.
“I suppose even for royalty the tried-and-true methods are still best.” Belle’s good hand gripped the chair tightly as she took in a deep breath, putting on a painted smile as she tried not to glare at the medic wrapping her arm up.
“Very efficient,” Her words came between her gritted teeth.
She took in another deep breath to better compose herself, wincing a touch as the other medic applied a bandage on her upper shoulder.
“Speaking of tried and true, I suppose you’ll be joining the others and accept the Crown Princess’ invitation?” She asked Maya.
“I can’t imagine you’d pass up the opportunity to get a photo of the little princess.”Well, Belle took the fun out of the situation awfully quick. Hearing her squirm was fun, but then she just kept
talking. Truth be told, it took a moment for Maya to understand what Belle was talking about. She had to think about it, gradually remembering bits and pieces of the speech she hadn’t really paid attention to in the first place. Something about the Rose Wing and the Archbishop’s orders. She had originally assumed they’d been brought to some Church property, but if Belle was to be trusted - a very big
if - then they might actually be in Veradis Castle. Which made sense, she supposed, considering the wealth of security measures, but Maya was still uneasy.
“Unlikely,” she replied flatly, content to leave it at that until she remembered there were medics overhearing her. She cleared her throat.
“These gentlemen warned me that I’ll be a bit weak after my treatment, and besides, I don’t imagine Her Highness is in a picture-taking mood.” Even if she was - and Maya herself certainly wasn’t - Maya had no idea where her phone was. Probably smashed in a thousand pieces back in the ballroom. And what a time to lose her phone; if she had it, she’d have already called Edmund to come and rescue her from this interaction.
“I think rest is the best thing for me for now.” Belle made a small noise of affirmation, watching the medics work. She managed to move her thumb a little, much to her relief.
“What an entrance to the New Year,” She couldn’t help but muse, frowning.
“I’ll have to petition Dame Irina for whatever information comes to light about the attack. Fortune favors the prepared…and I think anyone bold enough to attack a group of Scions won’t take it easy after their first try.”She looked at Maya, her expression stern.
“It goes without saying, but I hope you won’t let this shake you, lest it cause you to crack and crumble when there’s more to come,” She warned her.
“But if you’re content to cry and cower, then I recommend hiding yourself somewhere and try not to let the paranoia take you.”Belle’s look was lost on Maya, who had kept her eyes stubbornly closed throughout their encounter. Her expression was the picture of serenity; she might as well have been in a mud bath at her favourite spa.
“I’ve already sent six heathens to the moon, Belle, my heart won’t break if I have to send a couple more after them.” She said the words with utter nonchalance, but it was a lie. Even as she laid there, the very thought of the night’s events - and the memories it conjured - was almost too much for Maya to bear. She managed to keep her composure thanks to all the practice she’d gotten smiling demurely for cameras, but it took every fibre of her being to keep her breathing even, focusing on the thrum of the Damias to slow her heart as she prayed to the Mother to send Belle anywhere but here.
And the Mother answered, the sound of a chair scraping on the ground heard as Belle stood.
“Stick with the ‘sweet girl’ act; the face of a psychopath doesn’t fit your preferred aesthetic,” She sighed, but she said no more as she waved off the medics and left.
Ballroom A filled gradually, the Blessed Templars eventually peeling themselves away from their charges to report for debriefing. As was perhaps expected, the ballroom was empty save for a white-clad attendant at the door who requested each Templar’s armour crystal. Dame Irina was absent at first; it seemed she had adopted Commander Fyodor’s “hurry up and wait” methodology. Tension grew as more Templars filed in, likely goaded on by the conspicuous absence of Sir Ulysse and Dame Sonia. Fortunately, anyone who asked after Sonia was soothed by the knowledge that she had been exempted from the debriefing to tend to Princess Rosemary; unfortunately, no such assurance was offered for Ulysse. Any conversation in the room was hushed, the night’s events weighing heavily on everyone.
The Templars were all unarmoured and in various states of disarray, many freshly out of medical treatment and sporting bandages or casts. Jannick, who forwent treatment, was the first to arrive, looking particularly agitated as he paced laboriously in circles, his eyes fixed blankly somewhere on the floor. With his armour dismissed, his uniform was surprisingly neat; a sharp contrast to the blood still smeared down his face.
Irina’s eventual entrance seemed to jolt the room awake, and any conversation immediately quieted. At her signal, the Templars lined up side-by-side, and for a moment, Irina was silent. She examined them each with a critical eye; to many, it would feel like being an Ordo Templi recruit again, submitting to morning inspection. Tilting her head up, it seemed that whatever she saw, she did not like.
“Tonight’s events are currently under investigation,” Irina announced at last, pacing back and forth as she spoke. It was an old habit.
“Duke Giles is being questioned as we speak; additionally, several of the attackers were captured alive, and will be interrogated overnight. By sunrise, we will know exactly what happened, how the attack was carried out, who planned it, and their intentions. As it stands, it appears that the invaders were targeting Scions for capture; you will be informed when we know more. It is imperative that tonight’s events are kept as confidential as possible: the attack has enough publicity already, with the potential to spark widespread panic. Keep in mind that the chief desire of a terrorist is fear. We will not give it to them.” Irina stopped pacing, turning toward the group.
“You should know that Sir Ulysse is dead,” she informed them abruptly. Her posture visibly stiffened, and she paused for a long moment, but she maintained her composure.
“At this time, Scion Nadine is unaccounted for. A search is underway; we will not stop until either she or conclusive evidence as to her whereabouts is found.” She drew a breath, eyes hardening.
“This is the threat you are up against. For some of you, this was your first exposure to real danger in your career as a Templar; for others, it would be better if it was.” Her expression darkened.
“The Mother is truly with us; if she were not, your performance tonight would surely have ended catastrophically.” “Like you, Sir Abram,” Irina’s sharp gaze locked onto Abram at the end of the line, who kept his gaze professionally forward.
“You might as well have hung a neon sign around your Scion’s neck, with how she ran rampant tonight; I would think a Templar of your experience would know that attracting enemy attention is precisely never a good idea. Or you,” she moved on to Dame Bianca,
“who made Scion Isabella look positively demure by comparison. You’re lucky your Scion didn’t kill a civilian with his reckless magic; it would have been safer for him to open fire into the crowd with a rifle of his own.” “And speaking of,” she crossed to the opposite end of the line, eyeing Tyler,
“It defies me how you decided that giving a delirious Prince a firearm was a good idea, or why you--” she turned to Edmund,
“--concluded your acrobatic routine by shooting into the crowd yourself, but you’re both fortunate not to have bagged yourselves a stray Countess in the process.”“But at least you were both acting in defense of your charges, which is more than I can say for these two,” she gestured to Ionna and Sara, moving down the line to tower over both of them,
“one of whom abandoned her Scion to be rescued by Sir Zacharie--” she threw the mage the most commending look yet, which was only a slightly less disparaging glare,
“--while the other left her charge to carve a bloody ream through the ballroom while she played at mother duck.” Irina fixed Sara with a chilling glare for a moment. The mark on her face did not go unnoticed, but Irina made no outward acknowledgement of it.
“Meanwhile,” Irina continued, turning her attention to Jannick,
“Officer Weber here made the rest of you look like heroes while he waited to be rescued like a damsel in distress.” Jannick glared defiantly at Irina, anger bubbling up inside him as the Dame’s piercing eyes bored dangerously into his own. They contended for a moment, but Jannick flinched first, tearing his face away in shameful and brooding disgust.
“You are not in training anymore,” Irina finally barked, casting an icy glare over the whole assembly.
“You do not live in a world beyond danger; your chief adversaries are not stalkers, paparazzi, or rogue heretic preachers on the street. You are not babysitters,” she eyed Bianca, Edmund and Jannick in particular, distaste clear on her face. Her eyes burned with religious fervor.
“You are Blessed Templars, the highest of the Ordo Templi, the holy aegis of the Mother herself, and you are all that stands between Her chosen and hordes of godless heathens bent on Her destruction. I expect you to act like it.”Irina’s glare lingered on the assembled Templars for a moment, the weight of her words settling over the ballroom like a sheet of ice. Her absolute conviction was clear, as was her disappointment. Finally, she turned away, waving her hand dismissively.
“You are dismissed,” she declared heartlessly, although she turned enough to point out Jannick, Sara, and Ionna.
“Except for you; I’m not done with you three.”@Hero @Scribe of Thoth @webboysurf @Mcmolly @Stern Algorithm
