Lava Alckon

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Flashback, Sola 27th
Ari & Drake

FLASHBACK!

Slap slap slap....

The sound of feet squelching through the freshly mopped foyer reverberated through the house, accompanied by the hurried shuffle of maids darting to and fro. Their faces were pinched with a mix of dread and exasperation. It was unmistakable—the wild, red-haired menace was home, and judging by the trail she was leaving, she’d brought half the outdoors with her.

A grimy trail of muddied footprints stretched across the gleaming floors, smeared further by water pooling in uneven streaks. The damp chaos climbed the grand staircase, where it morphed into soggy, muddy blotches, leaving behind a mess that only Ariella Edwards could create. Soft groans and sharp sighs of frustration rippled through the staff, the muttered laments about the freshly cleaned floors weaving into a quiet chorus.
Completely unfazed by the commotion in her wake, Ariella made her way directly to her brother’s office, her steps quick and purposeful. She knew Drake would be there - he always was when she needed him. As she reached the heavy oak door, her feet squelched once more, a fresh puddle forming beneath her.
Without hesitation, she raised her fist and knocked, the sound loud and firm, reverberating through the hall. Water, dirt, and a murky mix of unknown origins began to seep under the door, creeping into the room beyond like an uninvited guest.

“Drake!” she called, her voice carrying the same urgency as her footsteps. Whatever had brought her rushing home, it was sure to upend his day as thoroughly as she had the house.
There was a moment of silence as the delicate pen strokes of her brother’s pen danced across the parchment. He was in the process of writing letters of thanks to those that attended, among other smaller apologies for the rowdiness and other events that transpired. Drake rested the quill into its ink chamber and rose from the chair to greet the oddly wet-sounding knock that was confirmed to be his sister as soon as he heard the woman call his name.

Measured steps went up to the door, and that all-too-familiar pace of the door opening were the answer to Ariella’s shouts. ”And a good evening to you as well, sister. You are looking particularly…damp….this evening?” But there was something different in her stance. The way she stood staring at him intently that tipped the young lord off to this being far more than just a “big brother complaining session”.

He straightened his posture, stepped aside, and motioned towards his study. ”Come in. I’ll get you some towels.” He opened up a nearby cabinet that seemed to contain a myriad of assorted supplies - all from previous visits that he had eventually learned to keep stored just for her. He found a pair of thicker towels made from linen and cotton, and walked over to wherever she would sit. ”One to sit on, one to dry yourself with. What exactly happened that made you come rushing here dripping and muddy?” He asked patiently.

Her bewildered expression was clear as she stepped past him into his office. Her fingers hovered near her mouth, nails chewed nervously, while her distant eyes betrayed the turmoil in her thoughts.

“Ariellaaa…”

Her brother’s voice broke the silence, drawing her gaze sharply to him. He held out a towel, his expression a blend of concern and patience.

She took the towel without a word, using it first to dry her damp hair, then draping it around her shoulders for warmth. Another towel was placed on the chair across from his, where she moved to sit down. She pulled the fabric tighter around herself, the plush barrier doing little to chase away the chill she felt.
Lifting her gaze to meet his, her large green eyes seemed to plead for understanding, though she said nothing.
“I was in the woods…” She leaned back in the chair.“I went for a s-” she was about to lie. She caught herself. If she was going to find answers she needed to ask real questions. “I was practicing magic.” she admitted outright, her eyes unable to meet her brothers in fear of his reaction.

There was a sudden stop as Drake went from walking back to his desk. He took the time to pivot on his foot and slowly turn towards his sister. The look on his face expressed many levels of shock - how had she known? What made her do this? Is she reverting back to…? No she couldn’t be…Drake’s mind flurried with quick questions before he cleared his throat and focused his attention on Ariella. “Did anyone see you? Were you followed?” His tone dropped to a serious and borderline frantic state.

Slowly, she shook her head as she watched his expression. “No.” she said firmly “I didn’t do anything crazy I was just…” she paused for a moment “I was just testing out my aura, more of a curiosity then anything. And well…things were going normal for a moment then suddenly this darkness appeared but the only way that could happen is if I had preformed dark magic.” her looked up at her brother with concern “But i’ve never done that i’ve only ever once done a protection spell and that was it.”

Drake exhaled, casting his gaze downward for a moment. “I think it’s time you heard about something. Something I’ve regrettably held from you all these years. But before I start…Know that this was to keep you out of harm’s way, and to let you live the free life you’ve pined for since your youth.” He walked over to a small armchair and hoisted it nearby in Ariella’s vicinity. Taking a seat, Drake leaned onto his knees with his elbows and met his sister with a soft yet serious expression. He seemed to pause for quite a while, bordering on an almost eerily silence before he finally broke it with a gentle sound.

“When you were twelve, there was a similar incident to today that occurred. You had wandered into the woods to play, as you would often do, and came back crying to father about a ‘scary voice in the woods’.” Drake moved his arms down, fingers locking in between each other and his thumbs nervously fidgeting over one another. “Once we all went out to investigate, you began to be frantic. You kept saying how ‘it was right there’ but everytime we turned there would be, nothing…” Drake’s eyes looked down into his fists. “And then you started behaving strangely. Telling this voice to go away, that you wouldn’t ‘hurt your family’ and that ‘you only wanted to protect them’. Just as mother began to reach for you, as if by instinct, you put your hands out and put a ward between you and her. She nearly got knocked off her feet from the sudden shockwave of energy. But it quickly vanished.” Drake looked up to her, and blinked a few times before thinking of the right words to say here.

“But there was something sinister about it. Something was awakened that day. After you cast that fleeting spell, everyone present felt chills running down their backs - like the very woods were watching them. Sizing us up like a stalker towards its prey. We all quickly left, but not before….” Drake stopped himself. This was already so much to drop on her all at once, but it was time she heard about her past - about the secrets they burned that day.

Ari stared blankly at her brother in disbelief. She attempted to read his face but she knew Drake would never lie, not about this. Not to her. “Not before what?” she asked, her voice cracking slightly as she could feel his mood shift. Shifting in her chair she gripped onto the towel that laid along her lap.

Drake gripped onto his knees, struggling to find the words. The events that transpired that night were something out of a fairy tale. “You began to talk strangely. Telling us that ‘we couldn’t take your gift away’. You started to get really upset. So much so that you threw your arms up and began to say … some questionable things.” Drake sighed, his head now resting in his hand. “How you would never let it go. That it will always come back. That you would stop at nothing to get what you want.” Drake looked up at Ariella. “It was like you were possessed or something. Father was frightened. Mother was mortified. So…they did something desperate….” Drake paused for several moments - unsure of how to approach this delicate situation. He puffed his chest and decided he would be forthcoming about it - she deserved to know after all.

“They wiped your memory.”
Ariella's grip on the towel tightened, her knuckles turning white as the weight of Drake's words settled over her like a thick, suffocating fog. Her mind raced, grasping for fragments of memory that weren’t there, trying to make sense of something that had been stolen from her.
She wanted to laugh, to call him a liar, to insist that their parents would never do such a thing. But Drake didn’t lie. Not to her.

Her breath hitched. “No…” she whispered, shaking her head as her heartbeat pounded in her ears. “That’s not possible.” But the uncertainty in her own voice betrayed her.
A wave of nausea rolled over her, and she shot up from her chair, the towel falling to the floor. Her legs felt unsteady, like she was standing on shifting sand.

“What did they take from me, Drake?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but there was an edge to it, sharp and trembling. “What was so terrible that they thought they had the right to rip it from my mind?”

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides as flashes of something—feelings more than memories—buzzed at the edges of her consciousness. Anger. Desperation. A deep, unwavering certainty that something had belonged to her.
Her pulse quickened. “They had no right,” she hissed, her breath uneven.
Her stomach twisted violently. The betrayal burned, clawing at her insides like a caged animal.

“They had consulted many spirit healers before deciding what to do. You almost harmed one of them. They all came to the same conclusion - one that I find rather preposterous but it fed into Father and Mother’s worries even more.” Standing up, Drake walked across the room and towards his desk Ari’s wide eyes followed him, watching his each step with shock. From within one of his drawers he pulled out and produced an ornate key. A silvery design that looked like a wand from the right angle, with a tiny black stone embedded in its center. He marched towards a safe that was hidden behind several books on his bookshelf wall. Small enough to hide, yet large enough to contain a few secret items he felt was necessary to bring out given the circumstances.

“You were branded a witch. A magic user doomed to bring chaos and havoc upon everyone close to you. No one placed any faith in you - branded you a liability purely because you cast a few spells. What poppycock….” Ari’s brows furrowed, no one placed faith in her? No…instead they just took from her, attempting to control her even more than they had before. Drake’s last words were muttered in a hushed whisper - Drake was never known to curse, but the nature of the incidents leading to her memory wiping were frustrating and disagreeable on a fundamental level for him.

Ari could feel tears welling in her eyes as she attempted to gather her thoughts but her mind raced with so many emotions she couldn’t seem to manage them all.

As he clicked the safe open, he reached in for a number of items. A small notebook Ariella had kept during her time as a child - telling small stories of her different magical experiments. There was a pouch full of withered herbs and roots that had long since passed their expiration date. Drake made a noticeable expression at the pungent odor it emanated. Lastly, a small ornate wooden box with a silver lock on it - something Drake had found in her special place in the woods but could never find the key for. He handed all three of these items to her in a linen tote bag. She reached out, grabbing the bag and holding it tightly to her chest as a breath she hadn’t relized she had been holding let out with a soft sigh.

“I tried to protest - but I was only 14…they wouldn’t listen to me. But I did take the time to save some items from your little spot before they cleaned it out the first time. Your special place in the woods - it isn’t the first time you’ve been there. I knew it wouldn’t be your last either. So I saved what I could - and they either burned or destroyed the rest…I wish I could have told you sooner but I feared you would not believe me…” Drake hung his head for a moment. Despite all his prestige and all the skills he’s tried to cultivate over the years - his sister still remained one of the least protected people around him. Magic was a foreign notion to him - something he could scarcely imagine. Yet it was something he would have to struggle through understanding if he were to have any chance with helping his dear sister.

Clutching the bag of mysterious items, Ari felt a surge of magic crackling through her fingertips, tingling beneath her skin like tiny currents of electricity. Her grip tightened instinctively around the worn fabric, as if letting go would sever the fragile thread of understanding that had just begun to unravel before her. She lifted her gaze to her brother, her vision blurred by the tears welling in her eyes, her cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink.

It all made sense now—why Anna had been so baffled when Ari struggled to recall her favorite place, why she had needed to be shown the way back. Memories that had once been scattered like fallen leaves suddenly seemed to be pulling together, threads that had dangled loose now weaving toward something tangible. Though much was still shrouded in haze, this discovery felt like the first real step forward.

Without a second thought, Ari let the bag slip from her grasp, its contents forgotten as it landed with a soft thud at her feet. In a blur of motion, she bolted from her chair, propelled forward by a force greater than conscious thought. She collided with her brother’s chest, the sheer momentum of her small frame slamming into him like a carriage crashing into a stone wall. He staggered, momentarily off balance, but managed to steady himself just in time.

Ari’s arms wrapped around him with a desperate fervor, her slender fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as though anchoring herself to reality. She buried her face against him, her breath hitching before breaking into raw, uncontrollable sobs. The weight of all she had lost, of all she was beginning to reclaim, poured out in a flood of tears, muffled against the warmth of her brother’s chest. She rarely showed affection, her mother constantly frowning upon it stating it was a sign of weakness but she didn’t care, especially not now.
“Thank you Drake” she said between sobs her words muffled slightly by the fabric of his shirt.

It was an odd sensation welling within him. There was worry. Worry that Drake couldn’t always be there to protect her from the evils of the world. There was sorrow. Sorrow that a woman such as her had to face such injustice and prejudice simply for her gift of magicae. There was anger. Anger that of all the people that she could turn to, right now it seemed he was the only one to give her any form of closure. The welling energy came into him and threatened to cause an eruption of tirades and curses - but her hug sealed it all in.

“There there, Ari.” He gently patted her back while she sobbed into his chest. This was going to be a process, that was for sure. Magic was outlawed after all, and this was only the start. There were already rumors of people going around killing suspected witches and warlocks - not to mention the public execution just the other week. Fear instilled itself in his mind as the possibilities flowed forth.
He cleared his throat. “This is alot to take in. But you can confide in me in the meantime. Take time, learn about this hidden gift of yours. But don’t let it define you. You are not simply a ‘witch’. You are Ariella Edwards.”

Pulling back from Drake chest she wiped the tears from her eyes.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Farim

Location: Castle Dining Hall
Time: Evening of the 28th

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Farim getting dressed

The night was mentally eventful for Farim. The thrill of the performances and the mental pacing that took place after his questionably fortuitous meeting with Count Fritz were enough to make his hair turn grey at the roots.

But now it was time for some new trials. This royal banquet is full of several faces, old and new to Farim. Most of the attendees he had some familiarity with, but the thought of some new faces in this political quasi-romantic landscape did present some interesting opportunities.

Standing in his bedroom in nothing but his smallclothes, he took a look at the foldable wardrobe with all his latest choices in outfits laid out before him on neatly filed clothes hooks. Farim tapped his foot in thought while his darling avian companion happily chewed on small bits of feed left at the bottom of her cage. The door was left open so she may explore as she wished, but right now roosting in her familiar spot was her top priority.

Then he spotted it - a familiar garb that he wore when he was feeling brazen. The deep green melding into the subtle black coloring with the typical Alidasht golden accents. It was a good blend of promiscuous yet stylish - it was exactly what Farim was looking for. He slid the form fitting silks over him and took a slight pose in front of the mirror before calling in his manservant.

”What do we think? Too much? Not enough? Give it to me honestly.” The young man looked the Shehzadi up and down before offering a quick reflection. “Perhaps with such an audience as your potential in-laws…It might be best to show just a tinge less skin? I know your body is in excellent shape - but just a simple bit of covering may come across as modest while still letting people … admire that magnificent body of yours.” The man said with a growing smirk. There was a hint of playfulness in his tone - but this was merely flattery and nothing more. Farim nodded and quickly doffed his robes to wear a loose yet form fitting black and cotton undershirt. After donning his robes once more - he appreciated the hint of mystique hidden beneath the fabrics of his clothes. ”Ever insightful as always, my good friend.” Farim flipped a coin towards the manservants way before heading to the banquet.

As those who had made their entrances already began to settle in their seats, and make their greetings. A sleek figure seemed to materialize in the shadows behind the Grand Vizier. A single hand reached over the man’s shoulder to grasp at his partially filled cup. The unseen figure’s fingers curled along the rim of the cup and picked it up to a familiar pair of lips. Farim smirked as he took a short sip from the cup and parted his lips with a light smack. The royal tilted his head in momentary thought, before gently placing the glass down with some added flair to his motions.

A sideways glance at his father would reveal a few things to Farim. Firstly, he seems to have a mixture of bravado and adrenaline - almost like he just finished a debate. Second, this incursion that he was a part of definitely gave the Grand Vizier an aura of victory - yet another one of his little conquests seemed to play his way. And finally, he was far too absorbed in his personal politics to really notice his son's approach until it was too late. That is why Farim chose to play this harmless little show of faux-dominance over Hafiz. Almost as if to say, “What is yours is just as easily taken by me.”

”My my, father. You have quite the taste. I must commend the sommeliers for their selection but you have a keen eye as always.” A fake tone of approval in his voice, Farim slid his hand back to remain hidden inside his sleeves, giving little to guess about his body language aside from his own facial expressions. Turning a more earnest gaze to the present company, Farim offered a bow towards Anastasia.

”Princess. I am excited to be seeing you once again. Especially after such a riveting performance. You must tell me more of your art.” An immediate patter of wings signaled the emergence of the ever-present Thara, ready to introduce her glorious self to the patrons of the feast. She turned her head around and stopped at Anastasia, offering her feathery head towards her as if to say “I want this one to pet me, and no one else”.

Farim smiled earnestly. ”Thara says hi as well.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Farim

Location: Edin Theater
Time: Morning of the 28th
Mentions: Kazumin@samreaper, Drake, Lorenzo@FunnyGuy, and Anastasia@princess

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Drake

Here was a regal looking gentleman. One who was determined to put on a show. This part of the show was to be an act in three parts it would seem. The first one an upbeat show of determination and hopefulness. It seemed as if the man wanted to speak through the music. He spoke about dreams realized, hopes reached, and promises kept. The positive energy was yet another good start to the act, but Farim wondered just how it would turn on its lid based on the way Drake spoke. Yet despite this forbearing thought, Farim caught himself bouncing to the music. How infectious! He thought to himself.

Then the second piece played - and Farim paused in his fears. The tonal shift was there, but it felt somber and subtle. It was like he felt himself beginning to pan through his thoughts, his memories, and a newfound appreciation for what he had seen and done flooded forth. Farim’s mind went back to the sands of his home - the beautiful cities that could be seen for miles along the horizon no matter which direction you came from. He thought of his dreams, and what he had done to achieve them thus far, and what was to come. Farim appreciated the brief peace that came with this song, and found himself jolted back to reality as the final act began. The first word to come to mind was hope. A shining ray of emotion that made him feel like he could conquer most, if not any challenges.

Whoever this Drake person was, Farim was fond of their performance and the vast emotional palette he shared with the audience. He offered a firm enthusiastic clap as the performance reached its finale.

Kazumin

Farim made his way into the crowd, with a few hushed gasps and excited gestures from the audience. He quickly appeased their excitement and moved to sit in an appropriate seat to give him a proper view of the stage. He could have witnessed such things from the side of the stage - but that would have removed a layer of showmanship that he would appreciate. As he sat down, the murmurs died down and people’s restless behavior settled before the performance of what he assumed to be a commoner amongst the performers - not that Farim minded. Brilliance could come from anywhere after all, so he watched with anticipation as the scene unfolded to the lifeless puppet.

The jubilee and candor taking place between the girl and the puppet put a smile to his face. It was nice that things were going well in this play, the way the puppet showed such life and enthusiasm made him almost forget the tale of the “fake boy” who showed “real feelings”. There was however, a slight sense of unease building as the play took a more sinister turn. Farim felt a sensation in the back of his neck as the boy bumped into the girl, turning what was a joyful shared moment between them into one of fear and separation. What started out as a friendly child-like tale of friendship had morphed into the tale of how easily some bridges burn. How quickly some friendships fade. The slightest stress causing those bonds to snap like a cord pushed beyond its limit.

Farim nodded in solemn appreciation for the tale the young man shared - quickly doused by Edin’s overenthusiastic proclamation of “owning him”. To keep up appearances he kept his reaction neutral, but he found it rather distasteful. Can’t a man simply practice his art without people immediately laying claim to his craftsmanship? For this man's sake, Farim hoped it would not result in him being bought like property.

Lorenzo

Now here is an interesting participant. Farim thought. The duke had a reputation for causing chaos and bewilderment wherever he strode - so Farim smirked as the possibilities played in his head. The mans words danced around the stage until there was one particular phrase that made the Shehzade stop in his mental tracks. P….pigeon? Surely I misheard… Farim shouted mentally. A few protesting coos from Thara confirmed that Lorenzo really did just call his dear companion and pet “a pigeon”. Farim knew better than to cause a scene, but the he and Thara both shot cold glares at him - if he dared look their way.

The glare softened as he heard a supportive voice from among the crowd. Farim smiled, thinking that perhaps she would damage control the silly taunts of Duke Lorenzo. Then he decided to just shout for Anastasia like he was summoning any other woman around. Is this guy serious? Why on earth would she- And she is actually going up there. There was a pause in his thoughts - and finally the cold stare broke into a grin and chuckle. The absurdity of it all was enough to make him quietly laugh. At least she is having a good time.

Now for the actual talent act…The mood, the atmosphere, and the words shared began to blend into a single moment of passion. Such visceral emotion was something he did not expect from the Duke. Talks of love - of the things one would do. It made him contemplate….reflect…and even ponder. The normally outwardly goofy man made lyrical strides that danced around his mind’s eye. This was not just the musings of a man who had thought about love. It was experience and past coming together to mull over the deeds of man lost in himself.

Was this the real Lorenzo? Everything else simply a front to hide his own past? Farim could only wonder as the poem ended, and he offered slow but thoughtful applause for the man who just moments ago had gotten the entire crowd all riled up only to have them sit in silent appreciation.

Anastasia

This was the entire reason he had come to this event in the first place - why he even signed up to headline the show of talents from around the globe. Well, there was a bit of national pride and hoping to show the people from afar the glory of his nation - but the woman on stage was, as the duke aptly put, his muse in a sense. He was rather excited to see her talents on center stage, with only a taste of her stringwork in the piece before.

Tonight’s change of heart performance began softly, easing its way into his ears as the Princess carried the speech of her long lost friend into the lonely air. His mind flashes once again back to that time long ago. The eyes of his long lost friend, panning out to see that optimistic light fade. The image of this trauma blew away like sand against the wind as the scene shifted to the stable hand who, just a few days ago, was alive. Full of energy. Hope. Dreams. Perhaps dreams they shared - or at least dreams Farim could condone. The scene in his head shifts once more, to a bright caring face full of love. One that nurtured him from a growing boy into the optimistic young man that travelled the world in hope of finding peace for his home. The same vision Farim had seen in the woods, of his mother painted in the visage of a passing spirit. She too, was another soul who may very well have met her fate far too early. Another painful yet necessary memory he would cling onto.

A tear rolled along his cheek at the thought. Deaths like theirs was a curse for the living. A beautiful curse that some wore well, and others let degrade them to their core. There were many there who likely felt the weight of Annie’s story. If it was not Darryn. It was some other nameless face that to everyone else seemed like nothing more than a name to be spoken in hushed words. But to that person, it was the entire world. The notes that cried out into the theater were not just a requiem to those long past, but a cry to not let their memory fade. The notes were full of want, of dreams that could have been - and each one faded away against his ear drums like the lives of people who pass on every single day.

The song ended, and a quick wipe of his tears was warranted before he stood up and offered a firm clapping to echo the one he heard from where her family was seated. Farim’s gaze stayed locked on the woman who just bared it all in front of everyone - much like those who had come before her. Perhaps next time he would do something similar. But this was a dream for another time - his thoughts and prayers stayed focused on the names of those who had passed and had not yet been forgotten.

May their memory persist. Like all other blessings in life.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

FLASHBACK!!

Sola 27, 1739 – Guest House

A soft knock echoed through Shehzade Farim’s chambers early that morning. Standing at the door was Lady Miha, dressed in a simple yet elegant burnt orange saree. A bright blue bindi adorned her forehead while intricate traditional henna designs swirled across her hands. Balanced in her palms was a golden tray, and at its center, a maroon-red envelope sealed with gold wax and their family crest.
When Farim opened the door, Lady Miha greeted him with a bow, reciting their native greeting in a smooth, practiced cadence. After he accepted the envelope, she bowed again, offering the customary farewells before hurrying back down the corridor toward Nahir’s chambers, ready to assist the Shehzadi in her preparations for the day.


_{Farim,
Good morning, dear cousin. I hope this letter finds you well. I’ve arranged for us to meet for tea at the Jasmin Nook Tea Room this morning. There are a few matters we must discuss, and it is best we do so without delay. I’ll await your arrival in two hours. It will be a good chance for us to catch up and talk.
Looking forward to it.
Nahir}

Sola 27, 1739 – Jasmin Nook Tea Room

Sunlight poured in through floor-to-ceiling windows, the morning light filtered by cascading vines of vibrant green, their white blooms a contrast against the glossy leaves. The windows framed the room, offering a serene view of the gardens beyond. Inside, the space was bathed in golden light, highlighting walls adorned with framed portraits of landscapes and figures dressed in intricate, high fashion. Potted plants sat perched on shelves and corners, bringing a touch of nature to the luxurious interior.

At the heart of the tea room, a grand piano gleamed beneath the light, its black lacquer finish polished to perfection. A man dressed in black tails, with slicked-back hair and an angelic, expressionless face, played softly. His fingers danced over the ivory keys, filling the air with a serene, classical melody.

Nahir sat in a lush chair near one of the large windows, dressed in a maroon saree edged with delicate gold embroidery. Matching golden bangles adorned her wrists, and bright red henna swirled across her hands. Her hair had been carefully curled and pinned up, with a few loose tendrils framing her face, also sporting golden clips.

Beside her on a small table rested a half-drunk cup of tea, the steam still rising lazily from its surface. In her lap lay a book titled The Incredible Adventures of Kalpana Chawla., its pages slightly worn from frequent reading. Nahir’s expression was calm, her golden gaze fixated on the man playing the grand piano.

At the entrance to the tea room, a shadow that quickly blended into the figure of Farim Kadir came into view. This morning he forewent the usual casual wear that he would partake in, knowing that such a place required something more refined. Atop his head was a soft-red and tightly wrapped satin cloth turban, with a single ruby adorning the front. A glorious fiery red feather was tucked just to the side of the gem. The flowing robes that flickered behind him were calmer colors, a gentle cream-like color to be easier on the eyes compared to the potent reds of his headdress. His hands were behind his back as he strode towards the table Nahir sat at.

_{note: words italicized and with quotes are spoken in Alidasht’s Golden Tongue}

“Good to see you, cousin. Ever the proficient choice in our meeting place. I do hope my attire is up to par with your radiant self.” He smiled and moved to take a seat.

Nahir’s lips curved into a subtle smile as Farim approached, her golden eyes briefly taking in the fiery red feather stuck on his turban. She offered him a light nod of approval as he took his seat. “Good morning, cousin.” she replied smoothly, switching seamlessly to their native tongue. “You honor me with your presence, and your attire does not disappoint. You look every bit the Shehzade you are.” She reached for her cup, her fingers steady as she took a small sip and a waiter came in and placed a filled tea cup and saucer. ”The tea here seems to lack in flavor. She commented as she set her cup back down.

”How have you been finding Caesonia so far?” Her words were gentle, almost testing, but the faintest flicker of something more urgent glimmered in her eyes. ”So far, it seems like you’ve been enjoying Sorian and it’s splendors.”

A grin came across his face at the compliment Nahir paid him, which continued into his pleasant demeanor as he waved his hand in the air. As if to physically showcase the erroneous nature of his stay thus far. “It is just about as intriguing as I would have hoped. There are many a treasures here to uncover - some political, some personal, and some of a whole other persuasion.” He let the words hang in the air as he reached for the nearby cup and kettle to pour himself a cup of this “bland” tea his cousin had casually disregarded. A quick and purposeful sip and it is just as she spoke of, a rather calm blend of herbs that left little to be desired after it passed beyond his tongue.

“Bit of a shame the tea is this…ordinary. Unlike your stay here, I imagine?” Farim grinned mischievously. “What kind of trouble has the Golden Beauty of the Sands found herself in since arriving here, I wonder? Already have a Prince in your clutches? Or perhaps a few ladies-in-waiting to … tend to?” He spoke boldly, knowing only the two of them would really understand the main body of their conversation. Yet in spite of the secrecy of the topic, the man spoke earnestly. If anything, he was merely teasing his cousin with what he had believed were mere rumors and heresy - if only to see how she would react to such claims.

”Golden Beauty of the Sands,” she mused, letting the title roll off her tongue with exaggerated elegance. She leaned back in her chair, swirling the remnants of her tea as though pondering his words before laughter broke her neutral expression. Like a chime of a bell carried on the desert breeze. ”Flattering, but you should know better, cousin. I don’t trap anyone in my clutches—they come willingly.” The image of a certain curly-haired woman came into mind as she said that.

”Though,” Nahir mused, ”I can’t say the same for everyone. The Prince, for instance. He is lovely company, but I cannot help but feel that there is… a certain lack of interest. Perhaps his tastes lie elsewhere.” She shrugged, her expression feigning innocence as she picked up her teacup and sipped her tea.

”But let’s not talk about me. I saw how you handled the princess during that lordling’s name day. The Prince didn’t seem too keen on it. I do hope the earful you got was worth it.” She arched her brow at him, a smirk returning to her features. ”How do you think she would handle Alidasht?” Nahir’s tone remained light, but there was a glint in her eyes—sharp and knowing. ”Our royal court is not like Caesonia’s. We may share the grand balls and polite alliances, the daggers behind smiles and whispers in the dark—but there— back home… You’ve seen it, cousin. We’ve lived it. We know what it takes to survive. Do you think she would thrive in such a world?” Nahir needed to know if Farim was really aware of the dangers of bringing a princess like Anastasia back home. The girl wasn’t the brightest— nor the sharpest. ”And if you are truly considering the sultan’s seat, there’s more to think about than her title and pretty smile. Could she endure being more than a wife? Could she bear sharing you with the concubines the court would insist upon?” She set her teacup down, the soft clink filling the momentary silence as the piano player flipped through the music sheets to a new song.

Farim placed his teacup down. What was a pleasant expression had transformed into one of concern - as if contemplative thought began to wrap around his mind. He took a nearby stirring rod and absent-mindedly ran it in circles within his tea - a mild facilitation to organize the thoughts that ran around in his mind before addressing his cousins well-placed statements. ”Ours is a cruel world is it not? You know I spoke to my father last night? For the first time in ages. I have suspected him of many a nefarious deed - and finally sought to confront him. Instead of a bitter back and forth about one ideal versus the other, I was instead met with calmness and reassurance that it is all in my best interests.” The man shuddered as he cast a sideways glance to the nearby window. ”I am afraid I know far too well the cruelty our homeland is capable of - that man is one of the cornerstones of it. But he was not the first, nor do I suspect he will be the last, to continue the legacy of malevolent royalty.”

Farim stopped stirring, and turned his head towards his cousin and leaned his elbow onto the table. His jaw rested comfortably against his palm while he spoke, yet his eyes seemed to stare beyond Nahir’s physical form. As if to scope something beyond just her physical reaction. ”Allow me to break it down for you, if you would indulge me. Firstly, why is it you seek the throne? Is it fame? Notoriety? To continue the legacy of your Father…my Uncle?” A brief pause ensued as he lifted the teacup to his lips for a slow sip of the still warm tea. ”If I may speak plainly for a moment. My goal is to change the nation. Something that is not done in a day, week, year, or even a lifetime. But I seek to usher the tides of change. One where you and I do not have to worry if those we hold close will make it to next week. A nation that thrives on community and the enrichment that everyone can provide. Is it not the ways of our gods to bless all who walk their path? So too, must we grant such blessings.”

Setting the teacup backdown, Farim shifted his posture and moved from his hand, which now twirled and gestured as he spoke - mirroring his own growing enthusiasm in the moment. ”All of this is idealistic thinking of course. No nation is perfect. But there are ways we could be better! Ways that we could improve and thrive for the benefit of all who are under the Sun Gods radiance!” Taking a breath, Farim circled the conversation back to the original question. ”You say the princess is more than just a title and a smile. You are right about this. For I see in her the hope that I see in myself - to make things better beyond just the veil of parties and balls. I saw the way she stood up for the common stableboy - the one who was found murdered merely hours later. I have even seen the way it has affected her. That is not a woman who simply lives for the thrill, even if she uses it to escape her current woes. She has a kind heart - something I do not think I have seen for quite some time. So you could say I am a bit sentimental when it comes to her.”

The man pointed at Nahir, a smirk on his face. One that was not gauding or taunting, but of confidence. ”I imagine anyone who messes with anyone that I am close with - is willing to deal with someone who shares the blood of a man as foul as the Grand Vizier. Anyone who tests this is either a fool, or has a death wish. Neither of which will live to see the day they take anyone else close from me. I refuse to lose anymore of my loved ones.” He bit his lip, stifling his rage for a moment before exhaling slowly. It was as if he pushed his momentary frustration out through his lungs. ”Apologies. I try not to get too heated but I cannot help myself. I believe before my rant I had asked you what you planned to do should you succeed the throne?”

”You speak with such passion, cousin,” Nahir said softly, her golden gaze fixed on Farim. The fire behind his words lingered in her mind—how deeply his father’s cruelty had carved into him, much it had like to her—a shared wound they both carried. ”And for that, I commend you. I know well the weight of the burdens you speak of. The cruelty of men in power. The fires that consume more than just bodies, but entire bloodlines and futures. Her voice grew quieter, more measured as if confessing to the ghosts lingering in the room. ”Yoy remember my brothers, don’t you? You grew alongside them. Their deaths were ruled accidents, yet I’ve never believed that fire was anything but deliberate. That is the world we come from, Farim. A place where ambition is met with ‘misfortune’ and any dissent is silence in smoke and ash.”

Flashbacks ran through the Shehzade’s mind. Reflections of memories long passed played in his mind’s eye in rapid succession. The flames that rose high above the buildings, the blanket of smoke that choked the very sky, and the aching loss of his cousins. Farim had never had the thought to put two and two together like this, but the thinning of his Uncle’s progenies….could it really his father’s doing?
She paused, pouring more of that mild tea into her cup before her eyes returned to him. Sharp. Critical. ”So forgive me if I take offense to your assumption that I seek the throne for something as trivial as fame or legacy.” Her eyes softened. ”But I cannot blame you for thinking it.” Nahir had always been distant from the rest of the family. The spirited little girl who once trailed her brothers’ every step had vanished, leaving only a shadow of herself—silent, distant, and untouchable. She grew into a woman who sought solace in fleeting desires and the hollow warmth of superficial passions. Nahir was tired of it. ”I’ve learned to keep my true desires close to my heart, or even whispers in Alidasht can be dangerous. I will not see my fate mirror theirs.”

Nahir leaned forward slightly, her tone firm and steady. ”You call me Golden Beauty, but you know better than most how sharp gold must become to survive.” She held his gaze, the weight of her next words filling the space between them. ”I want what you want—a better Alidasht. One that thrives, one that lifts and inspires its people instead of crushing them. But I am no idealist, Farim. You are right: change will not come in a year, or a decade. It will not come with ideas alone. The men and women who hold power back home—they hunger. For more gold, more power, more control. Draining the sands and jungles and everything they can until nothing is left for the people. It is a struggle as old as time, and ideas will not win against greed without force.” She reclined back in her seat, allowing him to absorb her words before continuing.

He sighed, and took the time to gather his thoughts amidst her descriptive tapestry that told the story of their homeland. “It would seem ours is a history of conflict and strife to achieve what we want for our people. Such is the price, and such is our duty.”

”Perhaps we should not tear one another down in our pursuit of this vision.” A faint, sly smile crept into her lips. ”If we seek the throne, let us promise this: whoever succeeds, the other will stand as an ally. Change cannot begin on foundations built from betrayal and bloodshed. We will be no better than those we wish to replace.” She sipped her tea, her nose scrunching up as the hot liquid touched her tongue.

Farim leaned back into his chair, a smile on his face that was ripe with satisfaction. “If the Fates would have you lead our people - then someone is going to need to keep the Viper busy. What better person than his own son? Figuratively speaking, of course.” He grinned, with all the mischief in his voice practically dripping as he thought of ways he could usurp the role of Grand Vizier if need be. He composed himself, yet kept his relaxed posture in his seat. “Your words lift a weight off my shoulders and my heart, Nahir. Should you become the new Sultan, you will have enough coin to fill a thousand vaults and still have some to claim whatever your heart desires.” He gently waved his cup in circles before taking another long sip of his tea, and exhaled softly.

Placing the cup down, she continued, her tone softening ever so slightly. “And as for the princess... you must prepare her, Farim. Alidasht is no fairytale kingdom, and if she is to face what lies ahead, she will need the will of an iron sword. It will test her—break her, even—if she’s not ready.” Nahir’s golden gaze flickered with a rare hint of warmth, and she exhaled a quiet laugh, as though amused by her own thoughts. “Though I must admit, she may be growing on me. There’s a fire in her, small as it is now, and I find myself curious to see if it will burn bright enough to endure.”

She leaned back, fingers trailing idly along the rim of her cup, her expression unreadable yet tinged with something almost... hopeful. “But that, cousin, is for her to prove—and for you to nurture.”

“It almost seems too good to be true, my cousin.” Farim’s voice lowered, a long pause sticking between the words he just spoke and what was to follow. “I was truthfully concerned about how our rivalry would affect us - who we are. It feels like we are the last ones who have a chance in this cruel game of politics. To clash against one another felt wrong. Foolish even.” He clacked his cup onto the table and retrieved a nearby spoon to idly stir while he resumed talking. “That woman is like a diamond in the rough. Even while being crushed by the weight of what is around her - she still shines beautifully with a luster that would make our elders jealous.” Farim laughed and laughed, his chuckling almost drawing some extra attention their way before he settled down.

“I suppose that would make us a team then? At least in some unofficial capacity.” He raised his cup towards Nahir with the intentions of gently clinking their cups together. “To better times, and to a better Alidasht.”
For a moment, her gaze lingered on her cousin, the smirk fading into something softer, more reflective. Nahir’s lips curved into a smile as she leaned forward, her golden bangles chiming softly with the movement. “To better times,” she echoed, lifting her cup to meet Farim’s in a delicate clink, the faint sound sealing their agreement. “And to an Alidasht we can both be proud of.”

For a moment, her gaze lingered on her cousin, the smirk fading into something softer, more reflective. Nahir’s lips curved into a smile as she leaned forward, her golden bangles chiming softly with the movement. “To better times,” she echoed, lifting her cup to meet Farim’s in a delicate clink, the faint sound sealing their agreement. “And to an Alidasht we can both be proud of.”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Farim & Anastasia

Time: Morning of the 26th
Location: Castle Danrose

FLASHBACK!!

---

There was some interesting news that had come across Farim’s ears as he enjoyed his morning breakfast. Thara sat patiently on his desk as he read through some more updates on recent happenings, when one of his servants decided it was prudent to inform him of the events that transpired at the train station the other night. Once he heard the news, Farim looked up from his papers, right in the middle of sipping his morning coffee, and looked at the young lady sharing this news. He was seemingly stunned for about 10 seconds before setting his coffee down slowly, no doubt causing a pit of anxiety to grow in the woman’s stomach who decided to share the news.

”Are you certain?” Was all he said. Met with a meager nod from the woman, still somewhat worried how Farim might react. But there was no sudden outburst - only a brief nod followed by him rising from his seat. Farim went to his wardrobe and took a slightly more appropriate robe to drape over himself to hide his morning attire, and ushered his falcon towards him. Thara swooped onto his shoulder and coo’d lightly while Farim rubbed her head with the back of his finger. ”See to it that my day’s clothes are laid out for me please. I am going to speak with the Princess at once, and make sure she is of proper health.” Before much further could be said, the Shehzade made his way out of the guest house and hailed the quickest ride to the castle.

In a similar fashion to his last visit, he made his way through the large gates and announced to the guards that motioned towards him with questionable looks that he simply wished to speak with Princess Anastasia if she was available. The guards of course attempted to send the man away, saying she was far too busy for visitors. But Farim had merely smiled, pivoted on his foot in a swift, swirling motion, and continued his pace as he said ”I would prefer to hear that from the woman herself, thank you. I shall cause no trouble.” The guards decided it best not to openly oppose one of Alidasht’s royalty, especially knowing that this one was the son of the spiteful Hafiz, and simply sent an escort with him. Farim gracefully walked down the halls with his robe fluttering with each turn of his feet. Thara stayed patiently on his shoulder, her head turning sporadically to note the environment and surroundings to properly sate her curiosity. Once Farim approached the Anastasia’s door he gave it three firm knocks before announcing himself. ”Princess, it is Farim. Are you able to…talk?”

The door swung open almost immediately after the third knock. “YES!” Anastasia exclaimed with unrestrained enthusiasm, her voice bright and cheerful. Her ashen blonde hair was slightly disheveled, and the glitter from last night still sparkled faintly on her eyelids. She was still wearing her dress from the evening before, the fabric slightly rumpled but no less vibrant.
Her amber eyes lit up even more as she took in the sight of Farim and Thara. “Oh, my darlings! Come in, come in!” She stepped aside with a dramatic flourish, gesturing for them to enter with repetitive hand gestures, “You’ve brought Thara, too—how wonderful! You’ve just made my morning infinitely better.”
Farim stepped inside and motioned to close the door behind him, turning a thoughtful gaze at his little entourage and nodding - as if to silently promise there’d be no “funny business”. At least none started by him. Turning back towards Anastasia, Farim took Thara from his shoulder and held his hand out to let her flap her wings in a short graceful flight toward the end of her bed. The man reached out to grasp Anastasia’s hand, a warm smile on his face for a moment that broke into a more thoughtful gaze.

”I have heard some words I wanted to confirm with you before I say or think anything. Some people have begun whispering that you were on the train tracks last night, awaiting the fast embrace of the cold steel that rides those rails. Is this some form of prank or joke I am not aware of, Annie?” There was no royal and exotic flare to his voice - only the genuine concern that came from a man who was worried for the health of the person he very much cared about.
Anastasia's initial excitement at Farim's presence faltered as his words hit her. Her eyes widened slightly, and the warmth in her expression dimmed like a flame in the wind. Her gaze dropped to their joined hands, and she withdrew slightly, clasping her fingers together instead.

“So, it’s already made the rounds, has it?” she murmured, her voice weary.. Her lips twitched upward in a faint, self-deprecating smile. “It wasn’t a prank, Farim, and it wasn’t a joke. But it also wasn’t…” she paused, struggling to find the right words, “what everyone seems to think it was.” Farim offered a solemn nod, a show of understanding of what she had to say, but he dared not interrupt.

She turned away, stepping toward the edge of the room where Thara perched, idly reaching out to run her fingers along the falcon’s feathers. The bird leaned into the touch, softly and happily cooing as her fingers grazed along the falcon’s feathers. “I didn’t go there to… you know.” Her voice caught for a moment before she steadied herself, glancing back at him. “I just needed to feel something—anything. Everything’s been so heavy lately, and the train… the noise, the rush, the adrenaline—it cleared my head.”

“...I guess I was… breaking down a little. It felt like the weight of everything was crushing me all at once I’ve been carrying so many feelings—Darryn, Riona, Callum, how people speak to me, what they think of me… What I think of myself… And instead of facing it like a normal person, I just… ran. I didn’t know where else to go, so I ended up on the tracks.” She paused, her hands moving expressively as she struggled to explain. Farim’s hands gripped onto the sides of his robes. So that gut feeling at the party… His mind trailed off as she continued.

“It’s not like I wanted to… you know.” Her voice dropped, softer now, almost a whisper. “It wasn’t that. I just… I needed to feel something that wasn’t the crushing heaviness. And standing there, with the train coming at me, it was—” She gestured helplessly, searching for the right words. “It was like all the noise in my head finally went quiet. For just a moment, it all made sense.”

Anastasia’s shoulders slumped slightly, her vulnerability laid bare. “I’m sorry, Farim. I didn’t mean to worry you. I just—” She stopped, her voice breaking for a moment before she forced a small, bittersweet smile. “I just didn’t know how else to handle it all. I know I scared you. I scared everyone. And I hate that I did. I hate that I might have made you think less of me.” Her voice broke, and she took a shaky breath, blinking quickly to stop the tears. “I’m trying, I swear I am. I just… sometimes I don’t know how to be better..” Her hands dropped to her sides with a defeated sigh, fidgeting with the hem of her dress as she added softly, almost inaudibly, “Please don’t stop liking me.”

There was a silence that hung in the air. Farim took the time to think about what it was he wanted to say. “This Darryn…he sounds a lot like my friend Malik back home…” He stood where he was, now feeling his own well of emotions beginning to fill as he prepared for the waterworks to flow from his eyes. “I…watched him pass away before my very eyes. Unable to do anything to help him. It was my fault for putting him in such a situation - I should have listened to the warnings….I should have-” He cut himself off before he began to rant and make this entire interaction about him. He did not want that. The man wanted to connect with the clearly hurt and scared woman standing before him.

“There are many times we feel powerless to help the ones we care about. There is no weakness in this. With love and happiness, comes pain and loss. Yet it is still worth it all the same, no?” Farim took a step closer. “I did not come to reprimand you or chastise you. I ignored the warning signs for someone once, and I wish to never make the same mistake again. So if there is anything I can do, whenever or wherever, know that I am here for you, Anastasia.” He swallowed and kept his cool as best as he could, blinking back the tears that welled in his eyes.

Farim strode closer to her, now within arm’s reach, but keeping his hands to himself despite his base instincts to reach out. To grab onto her and never let go. But to do so would rob Anastasia of the choice to reach back to him, to have someone be there the moment she wanted. He could not bring himself to do that to her. “I am sure there are many things that people would love to say about you. Things to discredit your thoughts, your actions, and the very words you wish to share. I like to think differently.” He paused. “What I see is someone who has taken the world on her shoulders and still chooses to greet everyone with a smile so radiant it puts the gods to shame. A heart so boundless it brings everyone together. The optimism that springs forth from you could build entire empires.” Farim waved his hands in a grand gesture while he spoke, idolizing her in every way he knew her.

The man’s hands gripped into fists, moving back down to his side while his voice lowered into something soft. A gentle sweeping sultry tone escaped from his lips while he thought about what else he could say - what else he could do. His mind wracked for possibilities in that short moment. ”And I would not dream of not liking you just because you are going through some tough times. I would not be a proper man if I did. So please…” He faltered for a moment, reaching out a hand between them both. ”Do not stop liking me either.”

Anastasia’s gaze had remained fixed on him as he spoke, her eyes ever so subtly widening. She felt a warmth rise within her chest and slowly, as if his words had coaxed it to life, a gentle smile spread across her lips. When he finished, she stood there for a moment as she processed the weight of his sincerity. Then, with a dramatic step forward, she closed the distance between them, her hand slipping into his with deliberate tenderness. Her other hand rested atop them both, her fingers trembling slightly but firm in their touch. She then squeezed his hand gently, her tears spilling over as she let out a shaky laugh. “You’ve been a big reason for my smile lately… And I won’t stop liking you. Not now and not ever!”

The man’s hand reached out for her cheek, while the other caressed his thumb along the side of their pile of hands. Each of his thumbs gave a gentle and reassuring touch, wiping her spilling tears even as more draped down over her fair skin. Farim took yet another step closer between them. “You are the best thing to happen to me since I came to this city. Our adventures, our time together, and your beautiful smile. I wish to protect all of this and more.” The hand holding her face slid towards the back of her head, guiding her face upwards with a soft push of his thumb so they would look each other in the eyes. “Of all the shiny fortunes and gorgeous gemstones I have seen in my life - you are by the far the most radiant of them all.” It was there that he realized his face was intimately close to hers. He kept his eyes locked onto hers, and could feel their breaths pushing along each other's lips. Farim drifted forwards, being tugged along by the wants of his heart, and gave the princess all the emotion and longing he felt for her in that moment. All wrapped up in the form of a kiss that would leave him breathless.

Anastasia could hear her own heart accelerate in her ears as his hand graced her cheek. In fact, It was hammering in her chest by the end of his speech, and if it had not been for his guiding hand, she may have even averted her gaze. It was such a strange reaction coming from her—after all, touch was nothing new to her. She had kissed men, even women before yet something about the way he was looking at her… the way he was speaking to her… Before she could process the foreign feelings rushing through her body, their lips met. It wasn’t rushed or careless. It was deliberately filled with emotion that both overwhelmed and grounded her. It felt as though time had began to slow and the world outside the room had melted away. Her breath had hitched as her hands slowly found their way to his shoulders and she returned the kiss tenderly. When they finally did pull apart, she stared at him with a softened gaze and parted lips, her brows raised. “Farim…” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “...You… wish to protect me?”

Words failed him for a moment, for the young man had still been reeling from the emotional sensation they had just experienced. He had kissed women before, but those were out of fanciful flights of debauchery and carnal sensations. This was a much deeper rooted feeling that came from his core. It was the few seconds of silence following her question that prompted him to say something, anything.
“Of course. I know my time with you is but a drop in the oasis that is your life. Not to mention I am sure you have had your fill of ‘protection’ from quite a number of men in your life. But this does not stop me from wanting to occupy any portion of your heart and mind. To savor and cherish that connection. Not because you need it - but because we want it.” He continued stroking his thumb along her cheek while his hand gripped hers.

Anastasia continued to search his face with eyes that revealed a balance of fear and the stirrings of something else entirely. After a moment, she finally decided to give him a wordless reply, throwing her arms around him abruptly. The princess embraced him tightly, burying her face briefly in his shoulder.

Farim returned the embrace earnestly. Arms thrown around her, cradling her back in a moment of tranquility that he had long since forgotten the sensation of. For just that moment he felt like his guard could lower, that his instincts could stay on the back burner, and that he could follow his heart like he always wanted.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Thea & Drake

FLASHBACK!

Date: Day of the 25th of Sola
Location: Drake’s Chambers

---

As if the gods ordained it, here she was. Standing in front of a gobsmacked Drake whose glass began to tilt ever so slowly; threatening to spill his perfectly good wine all over their shoes. Alas, the man quickly regained his senses and straightened his posture as well as the glass. He seemed unsure of what to do or where to place his hands - but he finally settled on a bow towards Thea as he nervously spoke.

”L-lady Thea! It’s so nice to see you! Regrettably, the party has….concluded. But! It is still the 25th, so on all technicalities, I would say you are right on time.” He opened the door and welcomed her with his glass in one hand and his outstretched arm in the other. ”Shall I get us a table? Would you like any drink perhaps? I just so happened to have an extra glass… He began prattling for a moment, but turned to look at her with a warm smile. ”I apologize. I’m simply over the moon you were able to make it.”

Thea’s heart fluttered at his warm reception, and she let out a soft, nervous laugh. “I’m sorry I missed the party, I regrettably found myself detained for a while…” and by being “detained” she actually meant she’d had a hangover that morning and slept in much later than she had intended. Then she’d begun getting ready, but couldn’t seem to find the right outfit and her hair wouldn’t cooperate and her makeup felt clown-like and she just stalled longer than she should have. When she’d arrived at his house she found herself beyond nervous as she was already late and by the time she got the courage to ender, she heard Drake bidding everyone farewell. So she hid and was thinking of leaving when she spotted Drake leaving and some crazy part of her decided to silently follow. So here she was, stepping into his room, her heart racing.

"A drink sounds lovely, thank you...but honestly, I was hoping I could make up for missing the party. Maybe...spend some time with you? If you don’t mind." Her gaze flickered to his glass, then back up to his face, her lips curving into a playful smile. "Though, I’m not sure I can compete with your wine."

Drake grinned. ”On the contrary, my fair lady. This wine isn’t nearly as invigorating and refreshing as your company. Please, come in. If it suits you better, I can also move our meeting to my study, there is ... slightly better seating arrangements there.” He craned his neck and looked back towards his night stand, which was home to a simple yet sturdy chair. Then he looked to his balcony, which had a more lounge-worthy upholstered seat that Drake often used for stargazing. He gestured her inside if she would desire and moved to place the chairs next to his bedside table, shoddily rearranged so that it may function like a normal table. Offering Thea the more comfortable chair of the two, he pulled it out and motioned for her to sit.

Thea stepped further into the room, her eyes glancing toward the cozy setup Drake had rearranged. A shy smile spread across her lips as she met his gaze. "Oh, your bedroom is fine… I mean, it’s comfortable! I-I mean, I don’t mind being in your bedroom..." Her cheeks flushed instantly as she realized how her words could be taken.

She quickly tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, stammering slightly. "I-I didn’t mean it like that! Just—just that it’s, um, nice here." She bit her lip nervously, her heart racing as she avoided looking directly at him, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

Placing his glass down, Drake took her hand and gently ushered Thea to her seat. ”You don’t need to fret, Lady Thea. I am flattered you enjoy my chambers - make yourself at home.” His finger reached to lift her chin up towards him as they matched gazes ”As far as I’m concerned as long as you’re here we could be eating in the back of an alleyway and I’d be content.” He smiled, but stammered ws he spoke next.

”N-not that I’d make you brave such conditions. That would be … well … that wouldn’t…uhm… I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable on purpose is what I mean to say!” Drake nervously laughed and sat across from her. His hand placed the glass on the table as he idly traced his finger along the base of the glass. ”Forgive me. It has been quite the morning. I had retreated to my chambers for a little privacy to unwind after everything that happened.” Drake sighed, took a sip, and looked once more at the woman. ”But if you are here then it would make the day worth it if I’m being honest .”

Thea’s breath hitched as Drake gently lifted her chin, his touch sending a jolt through her. Her blush deepened, and she found herself unable to look away from his eyes. “Y-you’re too kind,” she all but squeaked, her heart racing. Then, without thinking, she added softly, “And, uh… eating in the back of an alleyway wouldn’t be the worst thing. It can be quite cozy, I would know…”

Her eyes widened as soon as the words left her mouth, and she quickly bit her lip, mortified. “Oh! I didn’t…that sounded worse than… I-I just…” She laughed nervously, looking down as her cheeks burned hotter than ever. “I meant, you know, not everything has to be fancy to be nice.”

Her fingers fidgeted in her lap, trying to recover from the embarrassing slip. “I guess we're both doing well at inserting our foot in our mouth,” she laughed softly, glancing up at him again with a shy smile. After a moment of just staring at him, she cleared her throat. “A-anyways, how was the party? Anything exciting happen? Get any interesting gifts?”

He smiled as she stammered over her words and phrases. It might seem clumsy to some, but to him he just saw it as her caring about the way she acted or sounded around him - a flattering gesture in his eyes. Not to mention it was downright adorable. But then she asked about the party, causing him to reach back and scratch at his head in a show of embarrassment. ”It was...interesting to say the least. Lots of good gifts yes, but things got rather out of hand quickly.” Drake sighed. ”I wanted this to be a rather fun yet sociable little get together for everyone. But it feels like there was just lots of rabble rousing and borderline debauchery. I think I saw several people getting feely with each other, I now have to take care of like 5 new pets - which is a rather pleasant surprise - but still! And don’t get me started on my oh-so-embarassing fall. I had finally played that piece I had been practicing for so long and then WOOSH! Off I go onto the green grass - what was even in that drink I had? Rum? Tequila? Spirits? Heavens forbid if it was moonshine. Then I got chastised by mother in front of everyone for acting like a drunkard oaf. Quite frankly, I could care less what she thinks but it was all just so…embarrassing, frankly. I’m rather glad you didn’t see it because I truthfully am unsure if I could quell my shame if you saw that debacle.”

Thea's laugh was soft, almost conspiratorial. "If your mother really wants to see a drunken oaf, I could show her a few tricks. I'm no stranger to a little debauchery myself." Her eyes twinkled with mischief, though her smile softened soon after as she took in the genuine embarrassment on his face. "But I’m sorry I missed your performance, embarrassing fall or not. I’m sure you were amazing before… you know, gravity happened."

She shifted in her seat, leaning in just slightly, placing a hand on top of his. "But really, Drake... you shouldn't be so hard on yourself. A fall like that doesn’t define you. From what I’ve seen, you’re thoughtful, talented, and incredibly kind. And I’m sure anyone who was there could see that, too." Her voice was gentle, and though her words were more heartfelt than she had meant to let slip, she couldn’t help but feel the warmth in her chest growing.

As soon as she realized how much she’d revealed, her eyes widened and she quickly tried to change the subject, her hands quickly leaving his and fumbling in the pocket of her dress. "Oh! I almost forgot!" she exclaimed, pulling out a small, wrapped gift. "I may have missed the party, but I did bring you something. It’s not much, but I hope you’ll like it."

She handed him the gift with a shy smile, hoping the gesture would distract from the lingering vulnerability she’d just shown.

Drake looked to the side as he felt his blush come on - the sweet way she talked to him certainly had its way with him. Then he felt her hand resting on his and he looked at her with a sincere look of trust and understanding. ”You certainly are quite the charmer, my lady. A little charm and a bit of wonder even - how you always seem to be able to adapt so well to whatever it is the day throws at you.” He sighed. ”While you are right, it was merely a tumble, and I played it off well. I just wanted to have a rather simple and elegant celebration. I guess it’s good that everyone seemed to have a good time though. I even got quite a few….interesting gifts.”

”For starters, I got a new horse, a new cat, even some ferrets - a whole menagerie of animals. Then there were some fun trinkets, a new revolver, some colognes, and a few other random personal items.” He left things vague intentionally - not daring to speak about the condoms he had been just given prior to their meeting.”But I have a feeling this one is going to be my favorite!” Drake said with glee as he slowly undid the wrapping, waiting to see just what was in store for him.

Thea watched with a mix of excitement and nerves as Drake carefully unwrapped the gift. She fidgeted slightly in her seat, her fingers twisting in her lap, her gaze flickering between him and the small box in his hands.

As the wrapping fell away, revealing a small jewelry box with a pair of cufflinks adorned with matching stones inside, Thea smiled softly. “They're cufflinks... with our birthstone,” she explained quietly, her cheeks warming again. “I thought it might be a nice touch, since we share the same birth month.”

She glanced at him, her heart fluttering as she added, “I wanted to give you something personal. Something that, well, reminded you that I’m… here, I guess? Even when I’m not.” She let out a small, nervous laugh, realizing how much that probably revealed.

Her fingers fidgeted again as she looked down at her hands, biting her lip slightly. “I hope you like them. They’re not as extravagant as a horse or a cat, but… I thought they’d suit you.”

Drake looked over the jewelry with optimism and gratitude. The fine filigree of the gold-setting as well as the beautiful gemstones within - no heat or inclusions to warp them. ”Thea it’s…beautiful…” The gobsmacked man looked over the cufflinks before gently clicking them into place on his current cuffs. He held his arm out and began inspecting the pieces with a joyous expression.

”Extravagance isn’t the end-all for gifts. Sweet gestures that come from the heart are what make gifts truly special. Thank you, Thea.” His hand rotated in view as he admired the craftsmanship once more. ”I’m excited to be present for your birthday if you would have me. Will you be doing anything special?” Drake asked as he idly placed his hand over hers, gently stroking the back of her palm with this thumb as his eyes met her gaze when she looked up from her lap.

Thea’s breath caught as she felt Drake’s hand settle gently over hers, his thumb tracing light, soothing circles across her skin. She found herself staring at the way their hands fit together, a warm flush creeping up her neck and into her cheeks. She didn’t pull away, her heart fluttering wildly at the unexpected but welcome touch.

“I… I’d be thrilled if you came,” she said softly, finally looking up to meet his gaze, her cheeks still glowing. “I don’t know the details, but I know Annie’s planning something.” She let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “She’s been terribly secretive about it, which makes me a bit nervous… but knowing her, it’ll be something memorable.” And possibly a bit wild… She finished in her head, but she didn't want to scare him away from coming. Perhaps she'd have a word with Annie about keeping it a bit more tame…

The man chuckled. ”Well a little mischief here and there isn’t the worst thing in the world. Lord knows I’ve come to accept that today.” Drake took another sip of his wine, keeping his hand draper over hers. It barely moved, yet still had a gentle feel to it, like he was purposefully watching how much weight he pushed onto her soft hand. ”I’m excited you wish for me to attend. I’m rather fond of the idea of making more memories with you, Lady Smithwood.”

“Maybe we could sneak off together during the party…” She voices, thoughts still on the potential of it being a wild party. It was only after a moment of silence on her part that she realized how that could be taken differently than she meant. ”T-to have another private…err, QUIET moment like this!” She quickly added. “I sure know how to make things awkward, don't I?” A small, somewhat nervous laugh escaped her.

His sip turned into a slight gulp at her statement, and he coughed up the wine that had slipped down his windpipe so he could properly drink it. For a flash, his cheeks reddened as he thought about just what to say. Does she….would she….would I….? Oh control yourself Drake - you are not a dog! Drake restored himself to his more refined stature and grinned at her. ”I suppose that is one way to make a memory.” He offered a coy wink alongside his banter to hopefully calm her nerves.

”Truthfully, I am here for you, my lady. Whether it’s in the presence of company, enjoying the serene view of a beautiful summer day, or something more private where we can be more …. Well, how do I…..” The man stammered as he searched for the right words to say without coming off as crass or perverted. ”Well for lack of a better term, we could be more casual or intimate with one another. I quite like seeing your adorable expressions and mannerisms as we converse, and I highly doubt I’ll get such luxuries if a dozen people are watching our every move, soon to be birthday girl.” He smiled at her and finally moved his hand to wrap around her fingers. His thumb softly rubbed the top of her knuckles and he seemed to simply stare into her eyes - like he would rather look nowhere else but those beautiful glistening irises that captured his attention at every turn.

Thea’s heart skipped a beat as Drake’s hand gently enveloped hers, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a way that sent a pleasant warmth spreading through her. His words made her blush deepen, her cheeks almost as warm as the butterflies stirring in her chest. She couldn’t help but smile softly, her gaze locked with his.

“You have a way with words, don’t you?” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “I… I like this, too. Talking with you like this. It feels… special.” Her lips curved into a shy smile as she added, “And I promise I won't always be this awkward.”

Her eyes drifted around the room, catching sight of a clock on a nearby shelf. Her smile faltered slightly, and she leaned back in her seat, tilting her head as she checked the time. “Oh no, is that clock accurate?” she asked, sitting up straight. “I didn’t realize how late it’s gotten. I need to go, I promised Anastasia I’d meet her.”

She looked back at him, reluctant to break the moment but knowing she couldn’t keep Annie waiting. “Thank you for letting me crash your quiet time, though,” she added with a soft smile. “This was… really nice.”

Drake kept his same smile as she confessed about the intimacy and special nature of their talks. It perhaps even grew wider as she blushed. ”You don’t have to be anything other than yourself. What you think is awkward I find charming and endearing.” Sadly, all things must eventually come to an end, and it was clear time had gotten the better of them both. What was supposed to be a brief stay in his room to forget about the not-so-ideal end to his birthday had become a proper stay-away with a woman he had been experiencing a strong sense of emotions for. Emotions he had truthfully not been ready to fully process. But he didn’t let that stop him. Anything was worth facing if he got to see those heterochromic eyes and enchanting smile.

Rising from his chair, he lifted both of their hands to offer Thea assistance in standing up. ”You are always welcome, my dear lady. Quite frankly it was your presence that made this little quiet time much more therapeutic. I’m…very thankful for you.” The man held her hand as they approached the door, still hesitant to let that connection between them break. Drake looked down and rubbed his thumb over the back of her palm. It was so delicate, soft, and yet in that moment he did not possess the strength to move his hand from hers. He looked at her and made sure she had everything she needed as if to stall for few precious moments. ”Do you need anything before you depart? A last drink? Some snacks? Shall I hail a carriage for you? Anything at all?”

Thea let him help her up, her hand still resting comfortably in his as they approached the door. Her heart thudded in her chest as she tried to think of something to say to prolong the moment, but his words made her smile softly. “You’re too kind, Drake. I don’t need much, really.” She hesitated for a brief second, her cheeks already starting to warm. “Well… maybe just one thing.”

Before she could talk herself out of it, Thea stood on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. The gesture was quick and fleeting, but the warmth lingered, both from the touch and the courage it took to do it. As she pulled back, her face was a deeper shade of red than before.

“Happy birthday, Drake,” she whispered, her voice a little breathless. Without giving him a chance to respond, she turned and scurried down the hall, her heart racing as she tried to process what she’d just done.

Drake softly grazed his cheek with his fingertips, obviously stunned by the display of affection. His gaze lingered on her form as it dashed around the corner, and he simply looked at the corner that Thea had leapt behind until he felt the rising warmth in his chest settle. Then, he turned and shut his door before returning to his personal meditation time.

In the corner, a disgruntled figure grips the nearby wall with sharp nails that threatened to fracture under the strain. “How dare she lay her hands on my boy so casually…I shall have to see to this…” The anger-tainted footsteps of the duchess echoed through the halls - only audible to the nearby help who knew to steer far away from the mother who planned to ruin her child’s chances at love.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Drake

Time: Morning of the 28th
Location: Edin Theater
Mentions: King Edin, Queen Alibeth, and Charlotte Vikena @princess

---

With the conclusion of the first act, and the foreign prince making his way offstage, Drake couldn’t help but smile at the man. Drake offered a silent bow towards Farim as he passed by, acknowledging his stellar performance. The curtains began to close, and the stage crew quickly got to work disassembling the complex arena that Farim had requested. Within moments the stage was once again clear, and out wheeled a grand piano with the golden letters of “Steinway” written across its front. Never one to shirk on the expenses, King Edin. Drake smirked as he approached the seat, and gave the piano keys a few telling strikes to test their tuning. The light sounds of musical notes may be heard from beyond the curtain, but people were far too abuzz with the previous act to notice or really care.

In the pit in front of the stage, a 5 man orchestra gathered and began to tune their instruments - an assortment of cello, bass, viola, and violin experts who would reach for their appropriate tools as the pieces progressed. Drake nodded at them, giving them a few moments to warm up, and finally waved at the stagehand to pull the curtain back. The still bustling crowd immediately found themselves captivated by the scene before them. The stage lights lowered to a more neutral dim, and a translucent blue filter was placed over them cast a pale blue light entirely on the stage. Out from the wings came Lord Edwards himself, dressed in a black and blue jacket. His coat was accented with golden filigree that drew the eye - a direct contrast to the jet black pants and shoes that he wore to complete his professional attire. Their eyes would be drawn to his upper half, and the painstaking hours he spent at maintaining his beautiful yet masculine features.

The clicking of his shoes on the polished stage floor echoed through the room until Drake had reached the piano. He gave a simple and silent bow towards the crowd and took his seat - forgoing an initial introduction. Drake would instead catch their ears with his first piece.

The slow start lead into the high-speed bridging of notes together while the strings plucked away - as if trying to catch the young man in his speedster piano playing. His arms began to animate far more than necessary with each stanza. Drake felt his body lean into the performance while the audience watched with held breath. A few even wondered if there would be a similar repeat to his blunder from several days ago. But as Drake finished and stood up, it was clear there was no suspicious alcoholism to fault his step.

The abrupt applause came and died rather quickly, with Drake’s hands politely ushering for their undivided attention. The man spoke clearly and loudly - with no futuristic sound system to bolster his voice he had to project as far back as he could. Yet his words carried a certain weight and deliberate level of calmness. “Friends, nobles, and your Royal Majesties!” Drake paused for another bow directed at both King and Queen. “It is my pleasure to be before you today with a few pieces that I think truly capture the essence of our city's culture. The work you just heard is titled ‘Blue Skies’. It has a rather uplifting tune, yet still carries this enchanting melody that has you wondering what else may be in store. That right there is our way of life. Our beautiful city and its boundless passions and beautiful arts!” He raised his hands, palms towards the ceiling, in a grand gesture towards the people.

“I promise not to take up much more of your time - as I’m sure you are all excited to see what else there is in store today. The next two pieces you will be hearing are called ‘A Tender Feeling’ and ‘Illumination’. The former being a more melancholic melody that carries a weight on every note - that we may do the same with each step as we admire the natural wonders of our homeland. A bustling city by day, and a quiet realm of opportunities by night!” He took a breath, placing a hand behind his back and his hand into a softly closed fist. Pointed his thumb up and out, Drake gestured to random members of the audience as he continued. “Opportunities that each and every one of you can take. Ways to make our nation greater. To be the best versions of ourselves! To Illuminate the way ahead of his with our prestige and extravagance - much like the way our royalty provides such opulent guidance in our most trying times! Something that I hope you feel when you hear the final piece of my act this morning.

Now! Without further ado!” Drake walked back to the piano, taking his seat, and proceeded to play the next piece. This one was the same piece his friend Charlotte had given him. Drake hoped he could redeem himself in not only the eyes of the people, but in hers as well. He would not let her gift be remembered in mockery, but instead in beauty and reverence. The man’s heart and soul went into every keystroke. A single purposeful tear rolled down his cheek, prompting some of the spectators to do the same. As the piece came to its conclusion, there was loud, joyful, and sorrowful claps all around the theater from a wide range of participants.

Drake gave them their moment, and wiped the residue of his fallen tear off his cheek before launching into his final piece. There was no gradual build - only the immediate speedy crescendo into a cascade of rhythms filled with hope, with joy, with determination. All of it poured from the stage, as the string instruments supplemented their own melodies to bring suspense and flavor to the already savory piece that filled the auditorium. Drake had practiced this particular piece since early on in his youth - he practically had it memorized. It was what he would play when things seemed bleak. When he felt like he couldn’t carry on anymore - and that his ambitions meant nothing against the grand scheme of what transpired around him. This was his fighting spirit - laid to bare for the people of his home to see. This, to him, was the essence of the arts. To channel your feelings - your emotions - your soul - into the very medium you chose so that others may share in your experiences. He channeled his thoughts and dreams into this performance, ending the last few notes with powerful slams of his fingers.

From there, he stood up, approached the edge of the stage and bowed as the audience gave their standing ovations. The roaring applause was like more music to his ears, and he gestured to the orchestra players to join him on stage to join for a group bow - which they all did happily. As the noise of the crowd settled, Drake had a final thing to say.

“We are a great nation, we are great people, and we are a great city. Hurrah to the city of Sorian!”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Farim

Location: Edin Theater
Time: Morning of the 28th
Mentions:

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The past few days had been something of a trial for the young trade prince. The stress of his father’s expectations and the deal they struck - the recent involvement with Count Ryn, and not to mention the way Anastasia had flung his emotions into a passionate yet purposeful maelstrom. Now he was here to perform in front of the very king and queen he was meant to impress - to convince that he should have their daughters hand in marriage. Not in the very moment, mind you. But an impression made here would last beyond the reaches of the courtroom.

A stagehand came to Farim’s side and cautiously placed a hand on his back. Up until the start of the show, he had placed his elbows on his knees, hunched over with his chin resting upon the mans’ locked fingers. Farim’s eyes stared forward with the intense focus that would catch the floor on fire if such acts were possible. The sudden touch of the random person made him jump slightly, and broke him out of his trance. “It is my time, then. I shall not disappoint!” Farim spoke aloud before the stagehand could even explain where his entrance was or where he was meant to go. Farim simply moved forward where his heart told him to go - something he needed to do more often.

The bustling voices of the crowd was the first to rush his ears, and a slowly rising chorus of exciting cries and claps as the Shehazde made his way onto the stage. Lights quickly flicked towards him, prompting him to raise his arm to block the oppressive rays from blinding him in the initial moments of his entry. He was tempted to vault into view - to be grandiose from the start - but he would work his way to such opulence and showmanship. He simply strode to the middle of the stage, faced the crowd, and raised his hand high into the air. Farim looked up towards the ceiling of the theater, collected air into his lungs until his chest ballooned up. A firm but loving shout came from the back of his throat.

“Soooooooooooooriaaaan!”

He paused as the crowd had mixed reactions of continued clapping and mild shushing. As the crowd settled down, Farim lowered his hand and moved his gaze to match it until his gloved hand covered half of his face. “I come from the far land of Alidasht! I am here to usher our culture, our ways, and our extravagance into your hearts so that you may relish in the splendors of my people!” The man threw his arms high above him, striding around the stage as he continued. “I can only hope that such splendors can match the luxury and sights that the graceful Danroses have blessed you all with!” A little ass-kissing never hurt, so Farim threw it in there to compliment the royalty present. The man twirled back around and began walking back towards the other side of the stage, the golden accents on his falconry gear beginning to glitter and flare against the moving stage lights.

“You see…back home there is often the tradition of ‘rafiq madaa alhayaa’” He spoke the phrase in his mother tongue slowly for those in the crowd to repeat at their own leisure. “In your tongue, it translates roughly to ‘lifelong companion’. For we find ourselves often intertwined with the fate of many beasts and creatures that live on this world. In one way or another - we end up saving or helping the lives of such beauties of nature, and in doing so earn ourselves a lifelong friend.” He paused and stood center stage, placing his hand towards his chest as his tone became somber yet still just as boisterous.

“I had encountered the star of our show when she was a babe. A tiny little eyas that found herself wounded and in the middle of a snake’s den.” Farim’s ferocious tone became venomous - as if to mimic that of a snake. “As they opportunistic predators went in for the kill - I, a young teenager at the time, leaped in and brought all the snakes to heel in one swift grab!” He mimicked the very motion of swooping and grabbing up nearby “snakes” and held his fist high in the air.

The crowd subsequently oo’d and aah’d at each little story beat while he shared this gripping tale of how he met his lifelong friend. “And from that day forth I had gained a companion. An ally. A friend. And since then we have trained, travelled, and even fought alongside one another. Our bond is truly magnificent!” Farim then pointed towards the back of the stage, which had been purposefully dimly lit in order to hide his setup. “Now enough of my talking - let my action show you just what I am talking about!” The light technicians moved the stage lights around, slowly revealing several structures with hoops, holes, and posts jutting out for optimal grabbing and roosting capabilities.

Farim placed his hand to his ear, a cocky grin on his face as the next instant there was a shrill cawing noise from high above the seats. Another click of the stage lights pointed a single beam at a roosting Thara, wings spread to either side. The bird took some testing swipes of her wings - as if to feel out the wind resistance of this enclosed space. She then swiftly took a dive towards the patrons while Farim raised his hand high above his own head.

The crowd gasped, and some of the meekly hearted began to voice their concerns and worries for the bird. But Farim held no fear in his heart, and he quickly swooped his hand down to signal Thara to pull up and stop her careening descent towards the masses. Thara swung around to the side as Farim pulled his hand to the right, their actions synchronized and mirrored from one another. The man flicked his arm out and Thara responded in kind by making another dive towards him. At the last possible moment she slowed her descent to land on Farim’s arm with absolute grace. The landing was as light as a feather, and the crowd met the show with an enthusiastic show of hands - and a few minorly disgruntled heart attack victims begrudgingly followed suit.

The remainder of the show was a masterpiece - Farim wordlessly guided his companion around the stage’s obstacles - littered with distracting glints of glitters, gold, and feathers to purposefully throw her off her game. But Thara was locked in on her dear friend’s commands. There was none other that she trusted more than Farim. The man had seen this tiny creature grow from a small bundle of stress-pricked feathers into a majestic bird of prey, and he could not be more proud of her than he was in this moment.

The pair continued their dance, with each motion of Farim prompting an equally exaggerated movement from Thara. She dashed through hoops, bobbed through the posts along the specifically designed structures laced around the stage, and routinely took flight above the crowd. The more enthusiastic among them would reach up to try and feel the breeze of her wing beats against their palms. During one such flight, it was clear that the performance would need to come to a close. Farim had made his way towards the back of the performing area, and pivoted on his foot to face Thara as she began to twirl and dive simultaneously towards him. With a grin, the prince burst into a full sprint towards his trusted bird. Just as their trajectory would put them on the path to collision, Farim kicked his feet up and bounced off the floor into a frontward flip. Farim tucked his legs in, continuing his spin while soaring above Thara. The feathered animal continued its twirling and tucked her wings while she dove under the man.

Once the landing stuck, Thara flared her wings out and sharply turned backwards. Thara made her way back to Farim and repeated her same graceful landing at the start of the show, letting loose a firm coo from her beak. Farim raised his left hand up, and Thara mirrored this motion with her left wing. They both lowered their torsos slowly in a form of bow towards the crowd - eliciting an eruption applause from the excited fans of the foreign prince. With his head held high, Farim waved towards the enthused patrons of the theater with that telltale smile going from ear to ear. As he made his way backstage, he wiped the sweat from his brow and looked at Thara.

“Well fucking done, my sadiq (friend). I could not ask for a better bird.” Thara softly coo’d in response, rubbing her head against his outstretched finger.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Farim

Location:Alidasht Guesthouse
Time: Evening of the 25th
Attire: Robes
Mentions: Anastasia@princess and Hafiz/King Edin

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

After the meeting with Wulfric, Farim had half a mind to storm off to his father’s office in a flash of fury. But such notions would hardly be received well, and would only make Hafiz’s responses short, spiteful, and uninformative. So he tempered himself, and rested in his chambers for the remainder of the day. He had lunch prepared and sent to his room, and he took the time to spend some much needed quiet time with Thara. Farim gently preened and cleaned Thara over the course of a few hours, and let her fly around the yard next to his open window for some proper exercise before calling her back inside.

He thought on what he would say. What he wanted to know. How to retort his sickening father’s wicked tongue. The simple lunch of masala curry calmed his nerves and helped him concentrate, but as the time came, he could not help but feel worry welling inside him. Farim placed Thara on her perch and made his walk to the other end of the guest houses where Hafiz would likely be and gave the door one firm knock followed by a single word as a greeting. ”Hafiz.”

The door creaked open with an ominous hiss and there stood Hafiz, his golden robes trailing behind him like the shadow of a viper. His piercing gaze immediately locked onto Farim, cold and calculating. His lips curved into a smile, but it lacked warmth.

“Ah, Farim,” he drawled, his voice smooth yet sharp, “How generous of you to grace me with your presence.”

Farim sported a low-effort grin of his own, which ended up looking more like a smirk than anything else. ”I trust you found my letter just fine, seeing how you have not yet left your office.” He quipped. ”There are some…things I wish to discuss. Shall we?” His hand gestured lightly to the space behind Hafiz - almost like he was asking to be invited without the direct request.

Hafiz raised a single eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching with thinly veiled contempt. He stepped aside, the golden embroidery of his coat shimmering under the chandeliers’ soft glow. His eyes never left Farim, assessing him with a predatory intensity. “Discuss, you say?” Hafiz echoed, the mockery in his tone palpable. He let out a chuckle, low and devoid of any mirth, as he gestured for Farim to enter. “Very well, my son. Let us indulge this moment of diplomacy you are so fond of.” His voice lingered on the word “diplomacy” as if it were a bitter taste on his tongue. He stepped back, allowing Farim to pass, though his calculating gaze didn’t soften in the slightest. “I do hope, however,” he continued smoothly, “that what you have to say will not disappoint me. I have little patience for pleasantries and even less for failure.”

Farim entered the dark recesses of Hafiz’s office. His own robes seem to billow ever so lightly to brush against the silken fabrics of the Grand Vizier, a foreshadow of the mental abrasions to come. ”While I find you are disappointed in most of the things I say or do - I shall do my best to impress.” A mocking grin stretched across his face. There was an attempt at stoicism being made by Farim, however it seemed to be a very poor one; doing little to hide his contempt for what he was about to say as he watched the door close.

”Let’s start things off easy. Where is my mother, Hafiz? When was the last time you heard from her?”

The door clicked shut, sealing Farim and Hafiz off from the world. Hafiz’s gaze lingered on his son, taking in his countenance with a look of disdainful amusement. He let out a heavy sigh, more theatrical than genuine, and clasped his hands behind his back, his golden robes rustling as he moved to his ornate desk.

“Disappointment, my son, is an understatement,” Hafiz began, his voice tinged with sorrow. He gestured to a cushioned chair across from him, though his expression made it clear that he was not offering comfort. “You seem to harbor the most distressing thoughts about me. Heartless, cruel… a bad man, even.” He let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “And yet, here I am, prepared to indulge your inquiries, despite how little you think of me.”

He reached into a drawer of his desk, retrieving a delicate, yellowed letter sealed with an ornate wax stamp. The handwriting on it bore an uncanny resemblance to that of Farim’s mother. Hafiz let the letter sit between his fingers, turning it over as if inspecting a precious artifact. “Your mother… Ah, yes, I have heard from her.” He placed the letter on the desk with a soft tap, his eyes flicking up to meet Farim’s. “She wrote to me not long ago. Concerned, as always, about your well-being.”

His voice softened,“I can never understand why you insist on believing the worst about me, Farim. I’ve kept this letter safe for you, knowing you’d want to see it. Perhaps it will ease your troubled heart.”

He leaned back, hands steepled in front of him. “Go on, then,” he invited, his voice smooth and paternal. “Read her words. Reassure yourself that your dear mother is well, and that, despite what you believe, I do care for your peace of mind.”

Farim placed his fingers on the letter, a moment of concern, confusion, and skepticism written on his face in a myriad of facial tweaks. But then the man looked at his father blankly. ”You wound me, father” The sarcasm dripped from his lips as he talked. ”How can I think highly of someone whose every other sentence seeks to undermine or belittle everything I am working towards?” His eyebrow arched inquisitively. With that, he took the letter off the desk and began to open it with delicate strokes of his finger.

”Like this letter for instance - how do I know it is not forged? Or that you have kept it for weeks just to use against me at a pivotal moment? How would I even know that it is really her- Hmmm…” Farim’s focus shifted as the contents of the letter were revealed by unfolding the parchment. His eyes scanned the lettering with piqued interest that began to build as his eyes scrawled across the page.

Hafiz observed his son’s skepticism with an amused smirk, the corners of his lips curling just enough to convey his satisfaction. He waited patiently, watching as Farim unfolded the letter, knowing full well what his son would find. His voice broke the silence, smooth and almost mournful, like a father lamenting a son’s unfounded distrust.

“Farim, your distrust wounds me deeply,” he began, his tone measured. “You speak as though I am some sort of villain in your story, orchestrating every misfortune to befall you. I wonder, have I truly been so unkind?” He placed a hand over his chest, feigning a pained expression. “Yet here I am, offering you proof of your mother’s care and concern. Is that the action of the cruel man you so often paint me to be?”

As Farim’s eyes scanned the letter, Hafiz leaned back in his chair. “Go on, my son,” he urged softly, “Read her words. See for yourself how she cares for you, how she longs for the day you might reunite.”
The letter, written in perfect mimicry of Farim’s mother’s handwriting, read:
My dearest Farim,
My heart aches with every passing day of our separation. Know that I think of you constantly and pray for your success in all that you do. Your father has assured me of your growth and progress, and I am so proud to hear of the man you are becoming.
I wish only for your happiness and safety. If fate allows, I hope we will see one another soon. Until that blessed day, carry my love with you and know that no matter the distance, you are always in my heart.
With all my love,
Your mother

Hafiz let the silence settle as Farim absorbed the letter, his expression unreadable. Then, he spoke again, his voice quieter, almost gentle. “You see, Farim? She misses you dearly, as any mother would. It is cruel of you to assume I would withhold something so precious. Do you truly believe I would stoop so low?”
“I only seek to guide you, Farim. To protect you from the many dangers that would see you fail. Do not let your misplaced suspicions cloud the love that surrounds you.” His voice softened.

Farim’s voice stayed neutral, yet low. As if half of his focus was on the letter and half on his father. ”You only lead in directions you see fit, to forward agendas that oh so happen to align with your own. This letter is convincing I will give you that…” Farim placed the letter on the desk and slid it partially towards Hafiz. ”But I think I can count on one hand the amount of times mother referred to me by my actual birth name. If you had been around more as she raised me you might have known that.” His mouth curled into a smirk.

”But you were too busy fabricating your next scheme to mold me into the perfect tool of your design. Or to just scare the living daylights out of me. Remind me again, who was it who accidentally let Nala roam the halls of the palace knowing I would cross paths with her?” Farim whirled his hand around in mock contemplation to the loaded question. ”Or whenever I misbehaved, and the way you would starve me until I apologized? Does any of this ring any bells?” The man flicked his wrist to wrap the back of his hand along the side of his mouth, as if to stop some unseen observer from reading his lips. ”And do not get me started on the fighting pits you secretly cherish and yet publicly loathe.”

Farim crossed his arms, maintaining a disapproving tone in his voice. He did not yet give in to his rage or malcontent for the man in front of him. That would be what he would want, and would reveal cracks in his argument. He needed this next part to be believable, and for Hafiz to stay on the defensive for as long as he could manage to manipulate him to be. ”Not to mention the report hitting my desk confirming my mother’s death. I like to keep tabs on her despite your somewhat veiled attempts at keeping us apart. I just figured I would give you another chance to come clean - for there was a part of me that hoped you would finally show me some of that good nature you always preach you have.” This part, the obvious lie to him, was what was hinging on this conversation becoming good or bad for the Shehzade. If he told Hafiz his “report” was actually a vision brought on by hallucinations and “magical potions”, all credibility would fly out the window. Farim’s gaze fell onto Hafiz with a cold disposition, his grin fading to a straightened line. ”But it would seem you have yet again fallen short of expectations. I guess that just seems to run in the family, hm?”

Hafiz leaned back slightly, his expression softening into something dangerously close to fatherly concern. “Farim,” he began, almost mournfully, “this… report of yours. I would very much like to see it. You know how deeply I care for your mother’s well-being. To suggest I would keep something like this from you-” he paused, his tone turning regretful, “I can’t help but feel you mistake my intentions entirely.”

He gestured to the letter on the desk with a slow, deliberate movement. “She is alive, Farim. She writes to you with love, with hope. If she didn’t refer to you by a childhood nickname, perhaps it’s because she knows the man you are becoming—strong, capable, wise. Why would she not address you as such?”
His gaze sharpened, though his tone remained gentle. “As for my actions, the punishments you speak of… Do you think I enjoyed them? Do you think I wanted to starve my son, or to set trials before him? No, Farim. It was necessity. The world is cruel, and I needed to prepare you for it. Every decision I’ve made has been to ensure your survival—your success.”

He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “You think I scheme for my own gain? No. I act because I see the greatness in you, Farim. A greatness I fear you will never see in yourself.”
Sitting back, Hafiz sighed, as if the weight of Farim’s accusations had burdened him deeply. “If I have been harsh, if I have failed to express my pride or my love as you deserve, then for that, I apologize.” His voice cracked ever so slightly. “But do not let anger cloud the truth: I have always acted in your best interest, even when you could not see it.”
He held Farim’s gaze, his expression one of genuine sorrow. “So, my son, let us look at this report you speak of together. Let us find the truth, side by side. You may not trust me now, but perhaps, in time, you will see that everything I’ve done has been for you.”

Farim’s face did not falter, quickly coming up with an excuse to not discuss this imaginary report. ”I am afraid like all other reports I receive while I am away from my office, it has been sent back with my own response to ensure that things stay running while I am away.” He did not buy his father’s sympathy for a moment, but rather than bicker back and forth, he decided to indulge the old man. ”As for your…punishments…I do not think anyone would enjoy them. One could argue that even tough love requires some modicum of, well, love. An ingredient that seems to be lacking in my eyes.” Farim heaved a sigh. ”But let us try and reach a middle ground here. I am willing to open my mind to your logic.”

There was a solemn nod from the Shehzade before he looked at Hafiz with that same stoic and calculating stare. ”I still am unconvinced of the safety of my mother, but if you can prove to me she is alive by bringing her here physically, then I shall rescind my accusations and apologize with utmost sincerity.” There was a deliberate pause before he added another condition, as if purely to add suspense to the moment. ”Or…you can call off your plan to marry Edin’s daughter. Since you knew I had notion to court her, it seems a little odd to suddenly seek a political marriage when one was practically in your grasp through me. I feel like a loving father would agree in letting his son shoulder the responsibility of such a thing, no?” Farim grinned, despite the mental pain of trying to negotiate and “agree” with his father, he felt like he would be hard pressed to continue his “nice father” act now.

Hafiz’s smile was subtle, almost fatherly. “If it will ease your mind, I will arrange for your mother’s travel. She will come here, and you will see for yourself that she is well.” He paused, his voice softening but retaining its edge. “As for Anastasia, I sought the match for our family’s strength, not my gain. If you wish to take on that burden, then prove you are capable of succeeding in obtaining her engagement.“

Farim was skeptical. There was something going on here that he did not know about. Was his vision really false? It felt so….real. So purposeful. But if he were wrong, and his mother was alive….Well he would have to see it to believe it. ”I would quite like that. It has been ages since we have last conversed, and I think it only fair given the recent…misunderstanding. That we set the record straight, no?”

”As for the marriage, I believe I had that route covered in terms of the political gain from it all. Are you saying I now have to surpass my own father in winning the hand of the King’s daughter? Is that what I am understanding here?” His face seemed neutral, quizzical even, but there still remained some form of reaction waiting beneath the surface for what Hafiz would say.
Hafiz offered a slow nod, as though granting a gracious concession.
“You are correct, my son. It is only fair we set the record straight. I will see to your mother’s arrival immediately. Let that be the end of your doubts.”

Then, he let out a quiet, almost amused hum. “Surpass me? No, Farim. This is not a competition. If you believe you can secure the princess’s hand and strengthen our family’s position, then by all means… prove it.” He leaned back, his smile small but pointed, like the tip of a dagger. “But do not misunderstand me. This is not about father versus son—this is about ensuring our family’s future. If you think you can carry that weight, then show me. I would take great pride in your success.”

Externally, Farim wore a grateful expression, as if to be relieved of troubles and disagreements that were once had. Internally, Farim could only surmise what the man was up to. This was all far too agreeable. This personable man before him was not the Hafiz he knew - at least not the one that truly showed behind closed doors. The man before him was surely hatching some form of scheme or manipulation as they spoke - layering his webs of lies and deceit like toppings to a freshly made cake. A cake Farim would take no part in. He would observe these promises of his father and make note of the candor in which he spoke so plainly.

Physically, Farim nodded in agreement. ”Very well. It would seem it is time for me to take the mantle of nobility and shed this cautionary tale of mine. Come the end of this season, I shall have the princess’ hand in marriage. You may know me for many things - but being persuasive is surely one of them.” Farim’s smile turned into a muted neutral line across his face as his hand rested on the Grand Vizier’s desk. ”You can leave this future you speak of to me. I have quite the vision in mind for our nation I will have you know.” He snickered at his father, and rested his head onto his hand before shrugging slightly.

”But alas, conversations and discussions for another time. I shall extend my … sincerest apologies for the initial uproar to this conversation. Should you prove that my report is indeed mistaken, it would only be good news. So please…do not bring me bad news.” A slight scowl edged in the back of his throat as Farim rose to bow towards the Vizier. ”I do believe that was all I was needing to be speaking with you about. Is there anything you might have for me, father?”

Hafiz’s smile was faint, but his eyes gleamed with calculated interest. “Very well, Farim. The future rests in your hands now. I trust you will not let it slip through your fingers.” He leaned back, dismissing his son with a wave of his hand. “Go, then. Prove to me—and to yourself—that you are capable of the greatness you speak of. I will await your success.” With that, Hafiz turned his attention to a stack of papers on his desk, signaling that the conversation had ended and leaving Farim to contemplate the weight of his father’s parting words.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

Farim & Wulfric

Time and Date: FLASHBACK: Sola 25th, early afternoon, before Wulfric's meeting with Nicholas

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It was just past noon, and Wulfric had returned from an enjoyable time at the opera, which he had attended with Nahir. He was taking care of paperwork in his office while he waited for his invitee to arrive.

All things considered, the Shahzade was more or less on time. At a knock, Wulfric permitted entry, and the servant who had escorted the foreign prince opened the doors. Wulfric gave a single nod to the employee - a signal they were to be left alone. Despite hosting a guest, the eldest Danrose heir hadn’t had any refreshments prepared. Not even a single glass of water. “Take a seat, Shahzade.” A thin, polite smile flitted into sight, only to disappear without a trace. His gaze was pure frost, a fierce stare stabbing into the man with the chilling intensity of an ice-pick. “I believe we both know why I have requested your presence,” he said once the Alidasht prince had settled onto one of his couches. “So, I will cut to the chase.” He cocked his head to the side, studying the man as if he were a bug he would squash if it annoyed him too much.

“You expressed to me your intent to court my sister. If you were as sincere as I had thought you to be…Why. Are. You. Fooling around?”

Farim made his way inside - unaware of the predicament set before him. He unknowingly stepped into the belly of the beast, and as soon as it became apparent what the tone of this meeting was - his usual pleasant demeanor melted into one of concern and mild bewilderment.

“I suppose you are speaking of this morning. I admit - it was a bit bold of me to act so brazenly so soon. Old habits and all.” The man crossed his arms and moved one leg to rest on his knee. “But let us speak plainly. What about my actions suggest I am not sincere? What about my approach suggests I am simply fucking around?

“Everything.” He paused, taking a moment to observe Farim, and to restrain the silently seething fury deep within. “You were rubbing against my sister, no better than a dog in heat. You encouraged that lap dance for your own self-gratification. Your fingers were in places they have no business being, not until after an engagement. Certainly never in public. That so far exceeds ‘a bit’ of boldness I have to question if you are delusional,” he shook his head, disdain radiating off of him.

“And you speak to me of old habits? So, ‘fucking around’ is nothing new to you. What, then, indicates your commitment? Why would you seek to marry her, if you can fuck her for fun? Why bother courting her when you can have your fun and move on? Why would she tie herself to you when you are only one more man in a long line of playboys?” He laid his palms upon his desk, leaning forward as he narrowed his eyes, expecting answers.

The man raised his hands to eye level - as if he were facing an officer of the law. “It seems there are some key misunderstandings. About me. About my methods. And about my nature of pursuing someone as emotionally complex as Anastasia.” Farim brought his hands and interlaced his fingers over the cap of his knee. “So, allow me to straighten the record - and apologize for any misgivings.” He paused, finding the precise words he wanted to convey his message.

“A little about me to start. In my youth I was what one would call a ‘playboy’. A philanderer. Being son of the Grand Vizier, as regretful as it was, had some perks. But as I grew older, wiser, it became clear that such walks of life were not what I wanted. Not what I needed. So I set out to create the trading company you may know of called Farim’s Dream. Because I have a dream. One I can detail for you now if you so wish - but the focus right now is me and your sister.” His eyes seemed to lock onto Wulfric’s as he spoke. An equally warm yet calm demeanor to rival the icy stare that Wulfric had given him.

“Furthermore, in my homeland, such displays of affection are fairly common amongst our nobility.”

“Bullshit.” Wulfric had merely listened to the man thus far, unimpressed. The ‘cultural differences’ excuse had earned Farim a scathing response, however.

“I will admit even for our standards it was on the touchy side, but when I speak of old habits, that is what I am referring to. ‘Courting’ back home and ‘courting’ here contain two separate connotations. And it is a fine line I am walking. So I extend a sincere apology for overstepping.”

“It is not a ‘fine line’. I have been to Alidasht, and I have some familiarity with your courting procedures. The only place where your behaviour would be considered appropriate, even in your own country, is a brothel.” He looked down at the man. “But perhaps, the habits of your royalty are entirely different to the ones I’ve observed among your countrymen. I wonder, just which of your family members would lend credence to your words?” he scoffed as he questioned rhetorically.

Farim moved his legs to plant his feet on the ground - as if to take a stance both verbally and physically. “But here is where I must wholeheartedly disagree with you, dear Crown Prince.” His tone dropped, and Farim decided to match the slight disapproval in Wulfrics tone with his own.

“In what world do you think going about things ‘normally’ would be what it took to win your sister’s heart? A woman who is shielded by the very fun and thrills she seeks to escape a fear she is far too vulnerable to conquer on her own. What right do I have to bring sudden change in her life - nonetheless in the form of some stuffy, fake, dressed up image that only others find acceptable.” Farim then leaned onto the desk, still matching Wulfric’s eyes. “Forgive my assumptions, dear brother. But I am giving Annie what she wants AND what she needs. No one is going to get any closer to her heart without dancing her dance. I will make no progress trying to win her admiration through simple means. To venture out of her comfort zone - she will need someone in that very safe space in order to guide her towards something more….meaningful. And even then...” His voice boomed at the last word. “It may still not be enough - for the final choice is with her.” Farim leaned back in his chair.

“It may not be,” Wulfric agreed. “What she wants and what she needs aren’t one and the same,” he shook his head. “I will not decide in her stead what it is that she needs. But please, do not try to pretend as if your own desires had no play in your actions. Because I do not believe for a second that all these reasonings you’ve pulled out of a hat right now were what led you to make a public spectacle of yourself.” He exhaled forcefully but had calmed down during the conversation. “I never said nor meant to imply that you ought to court her exactly according to the prescribed manner. However, throwing caution to the wind, and going to the other extreme is not the answer. I admit, I had expected better of you than to act like a two-bit manslut who can’t keep his hands - or other parts - to himself.”

“Call me whatever you like. A dog in heat. A foreign fucktoy. The next pretty face on her to-do list. I have heard it all. But do not dare suggest that I am not giving her my best and only my best.” The harsh tone in his words finally settled as he crossed his arms once more “Just because the journey is wild and strange does not mean the destination is not pure.” He paused before adding one final note. “Considering how close you are getting with my cousin - you may just learn firsthand how wild things can be with my family.” His cool and collected expression broke with a sly smirk, only to return to his neutral disposition. “Sorry. Went a little raw and untapped for a second there. But I hope that quells your concerns.”

“I am afraid not, Shahzade,” he sighed. But it was worry which furrowed his brow now rather than anger. “There is a proper time, place, and occasion for all things. I would not have approached you so forcefully had you chosen to have your fun with Anastasia in private. Mind, I would certainly disapprove of such a thing as well. But having been raised as a royal man in Alidasht, it appears you are entirely blind to the social consequences which my sister could face. It is true that she doesn’t care, but I had hoped you might.” He regarded the other man for a long moment.

Farim sighed, his shoulders dropping as he fully extended his exhale, and just as smoothly straightened his posture. “Look, Prince Wulfric. I will take the blame for being such a … debaucherous foreigner. It would be remiss of me to shun one for not considering my own cultural normalities while not considering your own.” He paused in his words - swallowing the pride he clung to so that he could see things from Wulfric’s side. The man had the right idea, and proper intentions - an argument over semantics would do very little. “As little as my words may mean now, my intentions are more pure than my actions. I will make it a point to-”

“Your father approached mine with a marriage offer for Anastasia. Unfortunately, my father is a colossal idiot, and he believes handing her over to the Grand Vizier would keep her safe.” He paused, letting that sink in. “We both know it wouldn’t, don’t we?” he questioned softly.

“So, you can see now why I still have my concerns,” he concluded.

The man’s face instinctively scowled at the mention of Hafiz Kadir. “Oh, how that man vexes me…” He rubbed his temples in momentary frustrated contemplation. “You cannot let that man marry her. If she does then who knows where he may corral her like all his other wives…” Farim rested his face against his hand - dragging his thumb and forefinger across his cheek bones before looking up at Wulfric. “I plan to take care of this myself - but should I prove unsuccessful, I ask - no - I implore you to not let such a thing come to pass. I am genuinely unsure of what that man plans to do. But none of it will be good.”

“You needn’t ask, Shahzade. I will never let that man get anywhere close to my sister.”

Farim, visibly distressed, huffed a short breath and tapped his knuckle on Wulfric’s desk. “I will proceed in a manner more accustomed to your nation's ways of courting - but I also will not be a fake suitor to your sister. A balance will be struck, one that is more fitting of the public image you aspire to preserve.” The man calmed himself, pausing for the time to give the prince a moment of rebuttal.

Wulfric nodded. “That is agreeable. Despite everything, your intentions appear honest. Since we have, at the very least, Anastasia’s well-being in common interest, I propose an informal alliance. We both have our fathers to deal with, after all…” A neutral statement which could have several meanings. “My family will be hosting a banquet on the 28th. Make yourself available, and express to my father your interest in courting Anastasia. It would also behoove you to step forward as a formal witness to Anastasia’s assault at Lord Ravenwood’s ceremony. Be as factual as possible, and relay when you last saw her before she disappeared, and when you found her. I would not suggest keeping to yourself the suspicious appearance of those two coated men in her vicinity soon after you had happened upon her.”

Farim raised an eyebrow. “You suspect Dr. John had a part to play?”

Wulfric rolled a shoulder. “He may have, or he may not have. We cannot know without questioning him.”

He pondered the idea for a moment and exhaled slightly. “His presence was rather suspicious and Anastasia’s account further incriminates him.” The man rubbed his chin in contemplation, then looked once more into Wulfric’s eyes. “I find these terms rather amiable. I was looking forward to meeting the family properly anyway - I shall come to this banquet, and address the two problems therein. My only concern is if this arranged alliance is of any import - my father likely wants to use the political leverage of a national alliance as means to secure this marriage. Why wage a war when you can marry a princess?” His eyes rolled so far you would swear they were in the back of his head. “So, how do we trump this…” Farim paused before posing a question. “Forgive me for asking - would your father value opulence and wealth over the political safety of avoiding war?”

“To quote Edin, ‘Having a snake as your ally rather than your enemy is advantageous’,” Wulfric drawled mockingly. “Frankly, he is also the type of man who would gladly wage a war if he thought he could win it - and he is awfully overconfident. Though, if he were to set his sights on one of our neighbors, it would be Varian. I wonder if your father guessed at that…?” he shook his head. “Regardless, the short answer is no. Your wealth will be a benefit, but he will judge you by your political sway also. Flattery works best, and he is surprisingly easy to lure in with empty promises, especially if you back it up with some showy gifts. Like throwing breadcrumbs to the pigeons,” he snarked, shaking out his fingers to mimic hoodwinking.

Farim pondered the implications behind such things - what gifts would he bring? What political sway could he offer that would outweigh his father? Not much came to mind on the latter half - but the inklings of an idea formed, and so be smiled at the prince. “Having been raised by such a manipulative snake does unfortunately come with its benefits. I believe I can offer some persuasive ideas, promises, and certainly some fine gifts for such a man. Everything from silks derived from silkworms that were read the great Edinian Gospels and where the prayers of the many gods were sung over their pupafication, to works of pottery that reflect the bright radiance of his prominence and beneficial reign over Caesonia. Does this strike a chord with you, prince?” he smirked.

A matching humourous smile appeared in response. “A good start,” he nodded.

But this face returned to a more stoic one of contemplation. “But that part is easy. What might be tricky is convincing him I am more of a beneficiary than my father - who holds the grander title. However, perhaps my chance at claiming the Sun Throne may yet convince him - if not then I will make sure to remind him of the power of a good deal…” Farim waved his hand. The specifics would have to come later, and he would think about it. “So, in conclusion, be more civil, attend your family's banquet, and convince your father to allow me the privilege to have court with your sister over Hafiz. Easy enough.” Farim extended his hand for a handshake. “To keeping our families cared for and our countries at peace.”

“Agreed,” Wulfric shook the man’s hand. “Do not forget to give my sister a heads up on what you are planning to do, and why. Wouldn’t want to give her the wrong idea that you are only doing this for the political benefit, now would you?” he questioned rhetorically.