Syrenrei

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

Solae had been prepared for the tragedy that was verbally unraveled for her benefit by Rene. What she had not expected, however, was how jealous she found herself to be of the deceased Amellia. Petty as her feelings were, and as well as she kept them suppressed throughout his tale, she could not deny their existence.

Even by the strictest standards of the Stellar Empire Solae was one of the upper echelons of the aristocracy. What she had, however, paled in comparison to what late Amellia enjoyed before her untimely death. The marquise was no cousin to the empress, had not been appointed to the illustrious station of handmaiden, and had not resided within the walls of the palace proper. Both of her parents had been transferred to New Concordia out of want of distance from the primary planets; they were tired of being one of numerous noble families and instead sought to be big fish in the comparatively tiny pond of a smaller sector. Quietly they also knew that a remote location would also allow them more latitude in exploring certain hobbies and proclivities that would be noticed immediately in the courts where everyone was allegedly always watching. Regardless of their rationale, the Falia name carried a certain prestige that was undeniable, yet it had not afforded them the high honors held once by Amellia Siennaferara.

And more than being envious of handmaiden's accomplishments, she was envious of the love story that had been sung before she had been known to the soldier before her now. Solae did not expect, want, nor need to be Rene's first relationship, but to hear in aching detail of how enraptured the couple had been with each other stung. Much like a spouse of a widow might have insecurities about the husband that came before so she was having anxiety brewing in her heart. The two traveling in the Bonaventure had but a week and yet Amellia had been courted by Rene for an entire year. A year of dates, of romantic overtures, of moonlit strolls, of blissful days filled with the deepest of joys in finding a mate for one's soul. Rationally she knew she ought not to compare but it was impossible not to draw parallels. Suddenly Solae felt as if she were an intruder on a enchanting fantasy, complete with a heroine perfectly suited to the hero, to which she could never measure. She withdraw physically, pulling the sheet around her nude form for comfort as she tried not to be the interloper coveting the things of the dead.

"I wasn't asking for permission," she asserted with a sharper undertone than she meant. Rene was hurting; this was his past, not hers, and so she took a deep breath to stifle her bruised ego. The diplomat leapt to her feet, still utilizing the chartreuse silk as a makeshift garment, as she paced to expend the excess energy she now possessed from warring emotions. It was Rene that had lost perhaps the only true love. It was Rene that was accused of murder. It was Rene that had been forced into the Marines after he lost everything of value in his life.

"Lady Solae, I do not recommend walking so close to the jump horizon. It is my duty to remind you that, given your physical condition and Argon's records, you should rest to more efficiently recover. Would you like me to-" Mia chastised lightly.

"Thank you for your concern, Mia," the linguist interrupted, "but I am fine." Her assessment was subjective at best given the fading bruises, healing welts caused by proximity to heat, sutured forehead, and thigh wound that had re-opened no less than twice, but she was not in any imminent danger. Reflection on how atrocious her injuries must appear to a man that had once successfully wooed a handmaiden made her retreat to an opposite wall against which she leaned lightly.

"I don't dispute if I started my investigation on Capella I would be in imminent danger, but how far away we are from official imperial outposts can be our boon for accessing your records without notice, just as they are a hindrance to our reporting of the rebellion. If the murderer takes note of me they will have quite the distance to traverse before reaching us- and we are already in hiding. This is the best situation imaginable to look into this, Rene. Consider all the obstacles the true killer must overcome: conjuring an excuse for an unexpected lengthy journey, not having ample time for planning, locating us while we are actively evading rebels, coming close to New Concordia which they would have an obligation to report the revolt on, and then dealing with the military rushing in to crush the coup. There will much scrutiny after this is all over, Rene. The empress will demand answers as to who was on the planet, or near it, when the first assault was made, and each faithful servant thereafter. It will be hard to bury the truth." That anyone could commit homicide at the foot of the Spire suggested they could do so anywhere without notice. To her own ears her theory was not as encouraging as she hoped, but safety was not a guarantee for a scion that slaughtered a handmaiden and eluded every form of surveillance.

"There is someone out there, Rene, who got away with it, for reasons we don't know. It's possible that they were emboldened by framing you successfully. What is to stop them from continuing down that dark path? Could you live with knowing we had a chance to find them, to stop them, and elected not take it? What if the answers are there and we remain ignorant by choice- does that not make us complicit in whatever blood is spilled until the true criminal is imprisoned or longer among the living?" Solae shook her head slowly. "I can open doors I doubt you can before. I have a moral obligation to do this, Rene, one that I can not pretend does not exist. It may be too little too late but I believe in justice. If there is even the smallest chance I can keep someone else from suffering from the same fate as you and Amellia, or that I can salvage your name so that you could find happiness if I don't make it to safe space, or that I can expose the empress to the dangers that must be close to her, I have to seize it."

"I'll start by combing through the news in the months afterwards," she began, hoping that if he saw her approach he would see the merit and be less panicked over the inherent danger. "If we assume there was premeditation and motive then there was a desired outcome that is hidden in the changes of the imperial court. Once I can establish a timeline I will be able sort out any peculiarities and also pinpoint how you and Amellia would have affected the various outcomes if at all. The officers that interrogated you did not have luxury of waiting to see how the ebb and flow of society rippled in the wake of the loss. From there I will move from the outside inwards. My first few searches will be broad, and then I will narrow my focus, so that I will be as minimally detectable as possible."

The Betrothed

"A cat," Rhiane confirmed. Luke wasn't truly engaged in conversation but she seized the opportunity to converse on something that wasn't controversial. They already had enough arguments to last the rest of the week and this was a docile enough subject that she felt confident in continuing without raising ire. Sooner or later the princess elect hoped she could find common ground with her fiance. While it was true that neither of them could affect the inevitability of their marriage after the public announcement, they could at least make their arrangement easier if neither found the other's presence grating. The first step towards that was an air of congeniality fostered by discussion on more mundane topics- although that was increasingly hard to find given their dispositions.

"We couldn't afford a pet but there has always been a feral cat colony in the area. One of them still comes by the house. Always liked animals," she remarked somewhat absently, "because of how honest they are. The feral that swings by the farm would crawl in my lap one day and sneer at me the next for no apparent reason. I can't trust Dad or Gerald to keep a water bowl for it filled, so I hope Sebby remembers once he moves in. He was always dependable." Despite calling the cat tempestuous and criticizing its hot and cold reactions to her, there was an undeniable fondness in her voice for the feline.

Despite her apparent inclination to have a pet, which she compared herself to much to the crown prince's chagrin, she did not ask for one. The princess elect had noticeably not asked for anything tangible that could be given to her. It was true one of her major motivations for entering and winning the contest was the sizeable stipend for her family, but she had no discernible desire for wealth herself. There had been multiple junctures where another might have requested if not demanded material possessions: gowns for her wardrobe, luxurious soaps for her bath, expensive jewelry to compliment her attire, artwork for her bedchambers, or even specific food at their lunch. The most interest she had shown was selecting certain garments from the already composed closet to wear. All that Rhiane had were things given to her and to date the one that she had expressed the most excitement over was the thoughtful gift of cannolis in the restaurant. Silly though it might be to Luke she valued not the price but the sentiment behind the offering. She had expected nothing of the fellow patron yet he knew her, remembered her interview, and had sent her a trifle without desire of reciprocation.

Rhiane was curious as to why Luke excused himself on the way out of the suite but elected not to interrogate him. Instead of barraging him with questions she kept toying with shifting her weight such that when he emerged, leading her to a hovercraft, she had struck a balance that left her only minimally leaning on the man for support. Though the pain was subsiding with the medication she was still happy to be seated.

"I think it would be odd if I wasn't a daredevil given the circumstances," she replied casually as she stared out a window. The princess elect was not trying to be impolite but rather was perpetually mystified by the sights allowed by the palace and air travel. Her eyes traversed over the landscape in open wonder and a few times she lifted out of her seat just slightly to watch the ground whirl by in a flash. "I'd take you up on the offer of cliff diving but..." Rhiane hesitated and sighed, falling back against the upholstered support. There would be ridicule following her next admission she was certain.

"I've never seen the sea. A farmer's idea of a vacation is sitting in the house during winter when there isn't anything to plow, seed, or harvest until spring. Never had the funds for travel even a couple hours away much less anything more. Only trips I ever took were to suppliers- no sightseeing." Looking away and swallowing hard she continued to the tantalizing morsel for mockery. "I don't know how to swim. Didn't have the time, like most things, and the people with river access aren't friendly, not that the current is really conducive to swimming. Can't say I'd be much fun to cliff dive with." Rhiane was embarrassed. While she would welcome swim lessons she could not imagine it would be encouraged when her schedule would be full of either appearances, interviews, charitable events, or learning how she ought to properly perform at her role of princess. Were she even able to find the time a teacher would be more challenging. Her first favor from the queen would not be the hiring of a swim instructor.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

Solae laughed lightly as she rolled on her back and stared up at the unremarkable barren ceiling of the captain's quarters. Obtaining decorations, such as paintings or tapestries, was low on their priority list. The Bonaventure had just been cleaned but she was already dreaming of what trivial disagreements they might have over domestic affairs. They had spent so much time trying simply to survive, to evade the forces of the rebellion, to not be traumatized by all they had been made to endure psychologically, that there was much they did not know of one another. Ultimately the nuances of his likes and dislikes were inconsequential in the grand scheme of their relationship. There was no difference of opinion that would make the marquise even consider parting from the soldier that had repeatedly saved her life. Still the scion wanted to know more of her fiance no matter how irrelevant. Idly she wondered what paint colors he might object to or what styles of art he had fondness for. The more mischievous side thought of provoking him by making purchases after they landed without his input and then gauging his reaction. It spoke to how hard they had struggled that she looked forward to seeing him upset over something horribly mundane for a change.

"I wasn't completely honest on New Concordia," she admitted with a sigh. "I didn't give all of the liquid assets from the plantation away. Some of the funds were shuffled around a few times to make them difficult, if not impossible, to trace and placed into an account with an alias. They won't be able to touch most of my wealth, that's too well-secured, but I couldn't rule out the possibility they could monitor the trusts for hints of where I've escaped to. Any expenditure could tip them off."

There were several reasons Solae was absolutely certain she was not monetarily poor. The rebellion was unknown to the Stellar Empire as far as she knew and they would want to keep it that way until they were absolutely prepared for full-on war. Even declaring the murdered nobles dead would alert the appropriate departments that there was something foul afoot in their sector. While those on New Concordia itself could pillage and ransack homes, there were significantly more obstacles in getting to the currency held in the name of anyone of stature. More than once Solae herself had trouble verifying her own identity for access. Obtaining her inheritance would be a notoriously lengthy process that would require multiple hearings, enough documentation to make one's head spin, and a dozen sworn attestations. There were many things that the empire arguably did wrong but failing to prevent their upper echelons from fraud was not one of them.

"I know you disapprove, but desperate times call for desperate measures," she explained, "like becoming a pirate." The jest softened the blow of her robbing depraved slavers. Without looking she could tell the virtuous male was frowning at the lows she had sunk to but neither of their hands were clean. It was not as if they actually had a legal reason to do even half of what they had done on the planet they had just escaped the surface of. "It will help us afford some of the things we need, but since we don't know what else we'll run into before we make it to a functional communication array or a fortified Imperial outpost, we should probably find temporary employment on Panopontus. My hair can't hold dye and we don't have any wigs so it might be hard for me to hold down a job without attracting unwanted attention. If you don't mind scouting out what we're dealing with I'll stay on the ship and start installing some upgrades for Mia. It's not something I've done before but I am sure she can walk me through the basics."

"That would be much appreciated, Lady Solae," Mia purred seductively. If they had not known that it was an artificial intelligence system responding to her offer it would have almost have sounded as if it was a lady of the night responding to a proposition. Adjusting Mia's settings to not be so overtly sensual was rather tempting- but she wasn't sure she wouldn't miss the inappropriate humor of her intonations. She wasn't truly sentient but in her own way Mia had become almost human to the couple. Modifying her too extensively felt like performing a lobotomy to Solae.

"And there's something else important I want to discuss with you," the marquise said as she turned back onto her side. The solemn expression of her visage and timbre of her voice suggested it was a grave matter. They were already in lockstep as to the topic of marriage and children were a biological impossibility given Rene's sterility. What she sought to address was just as significant to their future, however, and she was under no illusions as to how receptive her consort would be as to this particular plan. "Panopontus should have a library with an archive. It won't be as extensive as anything on a primary planet of the central sector, but it should go back at least a decade, and have news as recent as the last month. I'd like to start looking into the accusations that were made against you. I realize that you have moved past those events, but I can't stand idle and not try to exonerate you. If you were in my situation I can't imagine you not meddling," she pointed out.

Solae didn't quite know where to start investigating a murder. Rene had not told her any of the details and so she would have to dive into records by his name alone to find the date or the deceased. There were inherent risks that, even on a remote planet, someone might take note of the surgical precision of her focus and access. But she was incapable of pretending that she would let his soiled name stand. She could be killed tomorrow, or the day after, or in a week, and any gains she made into clearing the charges would help her soul rest in any afterlife that might await. Were they both to survive the rebellion there was no chance of building lives for themselves, much less a family, until there was a more positive resolution. Even if Solae wouldn't admit it aloud, she also could use a distraction from the death and destruction of the last week that she had even less control over. Shifting to a new problem could provide clarity in the relief if provided from the Duke's machinations.

And as painful as it might be to have Solae poking around his past, she wanted to help Rene more than the Syshin of Amber Horizon. She believed in his innocence. She wanted everyone to see the profoundly handsome, inherently noble, courageous, and honest man that was before her at this moment.

The Betrothed

Luke was annoyed with her- again- but this development was not new. Because she had been frustrated she had turned his words against him as if she were secretly a masochist seeking out her own punishment in his sharp words. Nothing beneficial could truly come out of antagonizing him into a more foul mood than he already was. Regardless of either of their feelings on the matter they were now bound together for at least a decade while she was paraded around the kingdom and made to bear him heirs. Rationally she knew it would be easier to live a partially conjoined life if the impression she had on him was positive rather than negative. Her quality of life could be improved or made miserable by his whims once he was crowned and she was less visible to the public eye. Once they had offspring she would also need to consider that any resentment he had towards her could be imputed to a son or daughter. If they were to too closely resemble the manifestation of all his disdain then they would be damned on her actions rather their own. Mentally Rhiane chastised herself as she gently bit her tongue in a reminder that fighting Luke at every pass was doing her no favor.

"Yes, I am used to pain and suffering, but that is not the reason for my reluctance," she sighed. That he expressed even stoic concern for her person utterly defeated her even if she did not voice as much. Turning towards the table she took the glass in one hand and the capsule in the other. The crown prince had not been apologetic, and his sincerity about not wanting her to continue to feel any physical torment might have been a farce, but she would feel guilt in the unlikely event her pride smothered this glimpse of compassion from him. Gerald had always told her she was much more soft emotionally than she would ever admit and he was not wrong. Their family had a theory that the stronger the barriers a person built around them the greater chances they were protecting a vulnerable heart inside. Such an opinion wasn't extended to the nobility and royalty but Rhiane had to admit it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that Luke had empathy.

The princess elect's hand trembled slightly as she popped the pill in her mouth and gulped down the water after it. Both with the doctor and earlier that morning she had taken medication without so much as a flinch, but both time had been in front of an audience. With the medical staff she was required to be complacent, obedient, and without reproach in her composure or else she would jeopardize her standing. With the attendants earlier the summoning of a tablet was an excuse to delay their departure and had been in another high pressure scenario where she could not dwell upon historical parallels. Rhiane had pledged Luke honesty in private and she had not meant that to be with words alone; her actions would be just as truthful in the event her words were insufficient.

"You are correct, I do not want nor expect you to lie when we're alone," she acknowledged. While she wanted to be civil she didn't want pretenses. It was this battle of wills she already found tiring. Were she always to have the worst expected of her she knew eventually she would stop trying to disprove the belief. Rhiane was strong in both body and mind but not enough to be her own champion for respect eternally without respite. That neither of them had privacy exacerbated matters. What fortitude she had to fight his misconceptions would not hold fast for a decade with an implant keeping them within 10 meters of one another; she'd be lucky if she didn't bitterly lash out after a few months of insults.

"And besides, you don't have to worry about playing with my emotions," she said as she stood up. Tentatively she placed weight on both legs, shifting it back and forth, as she made certain the overexerted leg had recovered and that the injured ankle could bear the strain with no adverse effects. Whatever drug she had been fed was not instantaneous but she hoped it would not just alleviate her pain but reduce swelling around the joint in question. "My mother and father loved each other deeply until the day she died and my brother found that one in a million in the middle of nowhere. I'm sure you sailed through all your accelerated statistics classes with comparable ease to me, but even I know my odds are slim to none. The only thing that could play with my emotions is a cat- we had one that wandered around the farm and was a tempestuous beast," she jested lightly.

The Betrothed

After her unusual dream in which a part herself, disguised as her dead brother Edwin, suggested her more conscious self ought to take the medicine, she had been persuaded to do so. It was Luke's response to her innocent question about his work that chilled any desire she had to be agreeable. Even as princess elect she realized that the crown prince would have tasks that were not her business, something she accepted even before she won the contest and gained her status formally, but there was not a need to rudely respond to a vague query. It was frustrating that she was trying to be polite and yet he lacked decency. The former farmer pinched the cartilage of her upper nose between her eyebrows and tried not to let her emotions get the best of her. That he was able to converse with dignitaries of any nation without falling to petty insults spoke to how deeply the issue Luke had was with her on a personal level. Some of the candidates for her position would have counted themselves lucky to be such a unique focus of his contempt. Rhiane would have preferred to not be special at all.

That Luke had defaulted back to his aggravating attitude was not a surprise. What was unexpected was that he wanted to go somewhere 'nice and relaxing.' The princess elect knew the only reason that she was invited along to any location in his presence was the implant that had effectively made her into baggage he was forced to cart around. Why he had this sudden inclination was the true mystery. Luke had been insistent about the need to get work done and, seeing as she had done nothing more than sleep while he did, she could not be blamed for being a distraction. Idly she wondered if the court of public opinion was suddenly weighing more heavily on him than he might admit. Whatever the cause for his need to leave she doubted he would divulge it her willingly if at all.

Already struggling with the issue of the capsule she was enraged when he opened her hand, told her to be a good girl, and patted her cheek condescendingly. She watched as he turned and walked into a closet and was sorely tempted to crawl in the opposite direction. Not much could get through to Luke but the pain of the nanotechnology certainly could. Not many would respond to belittling with physical agony, especially if it imparted to themselves the same torment, but on this Rhiane had the slight upper hand. Not only could she brace herself for impact, and did she have a slight edge due to her gender's tolerance on an evolutionary level, she had learned to endure out of necessity for years. Luke might have had a stint in the military but she doubted that he had fear, neglect, or poverty that coerced him into labor no matter how sick or injured.

Fortunately for them both she was able to cool her temper. The princess elect put down the pill with a slightly shaking hand as she tried hard not to dwell on her memories. They had never gotten so far as to have the information on how both her mother and brother could have been cured. Even after they passed she did not know if an injection, or tablet, or set of transfusions would have saved their lives. By her own admission it was an irrelevant detail to fixate on but she could not help but imagine that this dose could have been the beginning of a regimen. Considering this particular pain medication had come from the royal doctor the price might have been comparable to that of rescuing peasants from the brink of death. Rhiane shuddered slightly and squeeze her eyes shut for a moment to chase away her morbid focus.

"Oh, of course your highness," she drawled as she opened her eyes and turned away from the pill and glass of water that waited on the bedside table. "I will make it a point in my interview to make certain everyone is aware that you have requested I continue to refer to you exclusively as your royal highness. I wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong idea. Don't you think your mother will be pleased to know that I still know my place in our arrangement?" The princess elect knew what she was proposing would do anything but appease the queen. To use honorifics on broadcast would all but declare that their romance was a farce. No true boyfriend or fiance would make such a formal demand. Not only would it expose their charade, Rhiane knew that it would also give the masses the cold truth, leaving little doubt in their minds as to whether or not their crown prince thought himself too elevated to even hold hands with the best of what their stature had to offer.

"Didn't you tell me yourself how I ought not to trust anyone? Taking this medication, or following you obediently, that smells of trust. I can't stop you from carrying me wherever you intend to go but if we're not going to have the pretense of civility I can make it as unpleasant for you as it is for me." She folded her arms and waited for what she was certain would be more derogatory remarks while evading any explanation.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"We should keep this ship as long as we can," Solae sighed. The sensation of the gel being rubbed into her bruises, which were fading much more quickly than they might have otherwise, was soothing. Although the topical treatment had been fashioned to both break down the blood beneath the skin and relax strained muscles, it was Rene's touch that was more appealing. Every action conveyed a protective tenderness that made her believe no matter what the universe thrust at them they would not just survive but flourish. Nobility was fond of the axiom mind over matter as a solution to any issue that may arise. It was not as applicable a thought as they professed but the marquise could not deny emotional and mental satisfaction hastened recovery.

"With all due respect, Lady Solae..." Mia began to object.

"I know it's not quite what you deserve, Mia, but there are benefits," the diplomat stated with a casual yawn. She was reluctant to do anything more than lay on the slightly lumpy bed and sleep an entire day away. What little slumber she had found in the last twenty-four hours was woefully inadequate compared to the lazy weekends she used to enjoy. "If we were traveling in luxury spacecraft it would be highly identifiable. The smugglers chose this one for a reason and it wasn't just price. A hobbled together exterior makes it less identifiable with all the other run down vessels on the fringes of the galaxy. If we can find a way to cover up the name it will be nearly impossible for anyone to recognize it from even a detailed description."

"I understand," the artificial intelligence replied with a slightly more sullen tone crackling through the nearest speaker.

"We'll need to refuel and get some supplies for repairs and upgrades, things we couldn't anticipate until the Bonaventure arrived," Solae admitted with a groan as she sat up. A line of pale purple, remnants of an altercation with slavers and slamming into the side of her console seat on take off, rippled with her movement. The diplomat did not bother to cover herself as it was abundantly clear there was no need for modesty in current company. "From the jump horizon what is the closest habitable planet?"

"Kasperth II has recently completed terraforming," Mia chirped happily.

"How recently? Has it been colonized?" the scion asked skeptically with furrowed brows.

"Records do not indicate that the infrastructure process has been completed as of yet. They are currently in Phase 3 of 17, which includes transport of raw materials in select zones for the construction of utilities for pre-planned central cities. It is estimated they will move onto Phase 4 in approximately twenty-nine days."

"What's the next closest option?" Solae asked. Theoretically a recently terraformed planet would have a minimal presence of any imperial militia. Without native settlers what few people would be on the surface would be laborers who were being paid to do all the less than glamorous grunt work necessary before any civilization could be established. They would be easier for Rene to overtake if the need arose but they wouldn't have the things that were needed to keep the couple moving towards central systems of the Stellar Empire. There was too much risk with almost no chance at any gain.

"Panopontus," Mia replied simply. "Approximately 82.39% of the surface is covered in water. Land masses include numerous self-sustaining archipelagos that govern themselves independently with imperial oversight. Exports include precious gems, algae, oils derived from sea creatures, varieties of seaweed, berthove stalks, both raw and processed, and eishrelas coral."

"Estimated time of travel?" she inquired. While Panopontus did not sound like an ideal destination she had no illusions that perfection would land in their laps. They would need to make at least a couple hops to obtain enough fuel to make the long journey to more firmly defended imperial space. With any luck they would find a communication array intact that would warn the empire before their arrival of the insurrection and spur a quick response. The more time it took them to get a message to authorities meant more damage done and more lives lost to rebellion and chaos.

"26 hours, 53 minutes, and 17 seconds. Would you like me to set a course, Lady Solae?" Mia sounded giddy at the prospect. Living beings might be happy being idle but a machine was hard-wired to value constant action.

"Yes, thank you Mia. Well, my dear fiance, what do you think of unpacking some of those crates? We have some time to make this feel more like a home away from home. Less than ideal I admit, but..." she started. The marquise paused as she realized that she was all but suggesting nesting. It was silly to think of a freight ship, one still half filthy, formerly manned by the dredges of the human race, to be a cute little lovers' bungalow. Had anyone else been in her company she would have scoffed at the insanity of viewing it as such an oasis. She hadn't packed any home decor to disguise their surroundings as a cozy abode, yet somehow just sorting what few things they possessed into storage felt like a wonderfully mundane intimate task to do together.

The Betrothed

"You should have listened to him and taken the medicine," Edwin stated. In the world of dreams they were sitting on the wooden steps of the front porch. The pair of siblings sat comfortably with their shoulders pressed against each other though Edwin was half a foot taller. A winding gravel driveway meandered from the right side of the house and to a worn road in the distance. To their left was a flower garden that had been tended to by their mother while she lived, thriving under her green thumb, with one bloom or another always in season. Though they were poor and nothing in their life was luxurious there was still beauty. Rhiane found tranquility in knowing that the flowers would die by be reborn the same time next year and that the no matter what crops were in the fields, no matter how battered the land was by storms, there would be a reliable path leading them to the safety of town. The female farmer inhaled the fresh air of the countryside that was nothing but a conjured illusion of her subconscious.

"You know how I feel about it," Rhiane retorted as she leaned her head on her brother's shoulder affectionately. This was how she always remembered him. A pillar of strength that could endure anything without flinching. Only when the disease ravaged him had he seemed compromised, but the illness had not robbed him of his dignity even then. Rationally she knew that no one as as perfect as she made him to be in these projections but it was her place of respite. Here should be supported instead of supportive.

"I know how I feel about it because I am you," Edwin sighed. "Before you hated them because of what happened to all of us, because there weren't enough supplies and so they demanded payment for treatment, because you blame them for letting us die." With a tender smile he turned and took Rhiane's hands in his own. She tried to jerk away but found herself unable. As she was controlling both sides of the conversation, both halves of the dream, she could both attempt an escape and prevent it simultaneously. "But now you have a chance to live without those worries. You can just focus on being healthy instead of forcing yourself to walk each row of soy checking for signs of blight."

"I can't trust him," she grumbled, referring to none other than Luke. Edwin-self laughed and patted her hands with amusement.

"What's his angle? How does he possibly benefit in helping to alleviate your pain?" The male farmer stood and put his hands on his hips as he surveyed the plowed and seeded soil that stretched out of sight in front of them. Verdant buds had just begun to emerge from the ground in perfectly symmetrical lines. This had been a classic pose of the real counterpart of her psyche's remembrance. When he knew he had won an argument he would always proudly look away, as if disinterested, as he savored not only the victory but the frustration of the conquered as the realization dawned on them.

"I don't like him," she protested of her fiance. Even with his back to her Rhiane could sense his quiet yet firm disbelief. In the glimpses of compassion she had faltered and, while she was not even moderately infatuated, she did not hate him quite as fervently as she did before.

The scene was dispelled, vanishing instantly, as a handle gently shook her awake. Her abrupt departure from the mirage startled her and she jerked slightly under Luke's touch before relaxing. A hand absently rubbed at her eyes as she sluggishly started to process what the crown prince had said. Because she didn't remember falling asleep she was disoriented at the sight of the minimalist bedroom with the hypnotizing view. Slumber had been a godsend. It would take a few minutes to get her bearings but she was refreshed and her ankle's throbbing had subsided. The tremors of her good leg, which had been overtaxed bearing all her weight for twenty minutes consecutively, had disappeared entirely.

"Call me Rhiane," she insisted as she pushed herself upright, "Lowly peasant such as myself doesn't deserve to be called Ms. anything by someone such as yourself," she chided half-heartedly. It was more important he take on the habit of utilizing her first name so that their charade was not discovered for the ruse it was. No fiance called his dearest by such polite honorifics. "Did you get your work done? Is it time for my interview?" Rhiane continued, not getting the gist of his decision that they were going somewhere that was not on their formal agenda.

The Betrothed

As expected Luke's bedroom was just as absurdly luxurious as the rest of his dedicated floor. Rhiane had a passing thought she had never seen a bed quite so massive, not even in vacation brochures, and had no notion why bigger was always better. Unless the crown prince was entertaining several women at a time- something that would not escape the tabloids- it was too wasteful to be impressive. Her gaze slipped over the space as she noted his minimalism and wondered idly if it was a reflection of who he truly was. Interviews and magazines did not give an accurate portrait of the royal. Given that he did not drift around the engagement ball for long and had a distaste for idle chatter she suspected at least socially he was a person who believed only in fostering relationships that proved themselves necessary. People that had no use earned his disdain as surely as furniture that had no function.

In response to her jesting Luke made a reference to a lizard she had never heard of, Godzilla, and then began to casually prattle on about a dog. The farmer was slightly intrigued that someone so emotionally distant had a pet. To keep one required care of a beast that possessed little objective value, yet that was unlike the condescending man who had been so insistent he did not need a commoner wife. It was hard not to be insulted by the implications the bearer of his progeny was less tolerable than a canine.

Her annoyance was short-lived. As he turned to grin at her Rhiane felt her good leg, the one not supported by a brace, crumple under the strain of her weight. Expecting to meet the cold, hard floor she was surprised to find that Luke had crossed the distance and instinctively grabbed her arm. The room was now spinning as she made a feeble effort to gather the offending limbs under her in hopes of steadying herself. It was the supporting arm of the prince that kept her upright as she leaned against him heavily. This moment was the culminations of weeks of trials that taxed her mentally and physically, a restless night of sleep, of a sore joint, of inadequate meals. The doctor had ordered her to her bedchambers to recover but had underestimated how uncomfortable she'd feel with the silicone sleeve, how unaccustomed she was to being up past sunset, how worried she was about the news coverage that she could no longer effect.

Swept up into Luke's arms she very nearly succumbed to slumber. Her eyelids drooped as both her breathing and pulse slowed to embrace the state of repose. The princess elect was too numb and drowsy to appreciate the tender way in which she was deposited onto the bedding rather than dropped. Even his chiding was softened. Being called a silly girl was not an insult, not for someone as sharp-tongued as Luke, and perhaps later she would realize he was not without compassion even for a peasant. Cally was neither naive or blindly placing her brother on a pedestal when she asserted he 'wasn't that bad.' There was still hope that the charade wouldn't be a mangled show of disappointment.

A tiny sigh escaped Rhiane's lips at his question. Caught between the waking world and the world of dreams as she was there were no inhibitions. She had been truthful when she stated she would not lie to Luke, that she would be sincere, but she was unable to deceptive even if so inclined at present. There was not the presence of mind to be anything more than forthright. "The pizza," she murmured, "It's hard to eat when I'm upset and... the marinara. They warned me to be careful eating too many things I don't normally, that it could give me indigestion, and that would have made us both miserable. At home we usually just had pizza with oil, keeps longer, easier to make..." The farmer would have balked at knowing she had just admitted that part of her decision making had anything to do with his benefit. Her outward projection was seeking ways to find Luke miserable rather than deftly avoiding them when it was minimally convenient.

Her eyes, which had glazed over, finally fluttered closed as she let out a soft exhale. Rhiane's features took on a more tortured, melancholy expression as she rolled on her side, not avoiding his latter inquiry but rather thinking of the subject before speaking. "Edwin," she breathed with yearning, "it should have been me, not Edwin. He was the best of us, should have inherited everything, would have... have made Dad proud. He always knew what to do," she confessed as her words began to slur together, "but he's gone." There was a finality with which she spoke that mad it clear that 'gone' did not mean he had moved, or run away, or traveled to a distant country with wanderlust. Edwin was clearly a sibling she idolized and had died, years ago from the furtive distance in her words, and whom she thought had been more worthy of being among the living.

Rhiane had joined the contest knowing the end result. In all the psychological tests and assessments they had brought up Edwin, her mother, her childhood, and everything else that conventional wisdom told them would have shaped her as a person. Not once had she given voice to the belief that the wrong child of the Black family had perished. She had known what conclusion they would inevitably arrive at: that she had extremely unhealthy views of her own mortality. It was her biggest secret and one she had just alluded to while drunk on the need for sleep. Oblivious, and still vulnerable to the inquiring mind sitting beside her on the bed, she started to ease into a light doze.

The Betrothed

Rhiane didn't object to Luke taking a cannoli although she perhaps should have; a moment of compassion did not signify a sudden parting of the ocean of condescending arrogance. Rather than voicing a protest she rolled her eyes as he ate the entire thing in two bites, wasting the opportunity to savor the flavor, which she viewed as his loss more than his own. Truthfully even if he took his time he might not have enjoyed it as she did. The princess elect was but a peasant whose palate had not the opportunity to become refined over the years. She did not have the finest chefs in the kingdom creating every meal with her personal proclivities in mind and indulging her every whim. Even after she was officially royalty she wagered the menu would be dictated by the queen or her husband, who someday would become king, before she was allowed to give input that might contradict their taste.

As he fished for a second confection she snapped out of her rumination and pulled the box out of his range, forcing him to either abandon the wheel or his pastry quarry. Before Luke could make the decision the latter was more enticing she took a bite out of each cannoli to possessively lay claim to them. It was sufficient to make the royal disinterested if not disgusted by her petty action. For the rest of the trip Rhiane kept herself pressed against her window to artificially create as much distance as was humanly possible in the confines of a hovercraft. The cannolis were consumed more quickly than she had planned prior if only to secure that she did not starve between lunch and dinner. An appetizer alone was woefully inadequate to keep her fueled. The princess elect's newly appointed nutritionist had even admitted, after an exhaustive analysis of her metabolism and digestive system, that their initial plan for her 'diet' would have to be heavily modified. To let her become too thin would be unhealthy, cause a cessation in her menstrual cycle, and impact her fertility.

Rhiane knew she was a brooding mare to the crown. It was when she was given latitude with her breakfast items the day prior she had an epiphany they wanted her prepared for carrying a child as possible. Little did they know that Luke would probably himself do everything in his power not to touch his fiancee more than was necessary. Were he to lower himself to undressing in her presence on their wedding night she would be impressed. In the mean time, while their charade carried on, the farmer would take as much advantage as possible to eat luxurious and unhealthy desserts. There was no reason to correct their ignorance. It was not lying to fail to mention that they could be poised beneath her hips as long as they liked but that an immaculate conception would not produce an heir.

As they arrived back at the palace she sighed and frowned at the sight of both the nurse and wheelchair. Knowing that it would ultimately not matter to Luke one way or another she had failed to disclose her dislike of those in the medical profession. Though she had been nothing but cooperative, polite, and obedient with the royal doctor when her ankle had been twisted at an unnatural angle, there had been no choice in the matter except to comply. Having a nurse here and now felt superfluous. The presence of the wheelchair was adding insult to injury. No matter how much strain she had placed on the recovering limb she was capable and willing to walk to wherever it was she was to be escorted.

Luke anticipated her displeasure. She let the guard, who was innocent in this social tug of war, assist her into the wheelchair as she painted on a smile for everyone's benefit. Honestly she would have preferred the arms of the crown prince though not out of emotional attachment. Rhiane would not, could not, should not every let it be known, but there was something comforting about being carried like a princess, allowing herself to be protected rather than being the towering shield that sought to shelter her loved ones from harm no matter the cost.

News that she had been well-received was welcome even if the greeting party had not been. The faux smile planted on her lips grew to one of earnest pride that her performance had achieved success. Mrs. Viscomi's praise, after the adoration of the restaurant patrons, made her heart swell with hope that she might last despite Luke's inherent ability to torpedo his own public image. Should the queen share the opinion of the expert that was to handle them then they might see Rhiane as the best possible solution to the lack of appeal the crown prince had with the rural citizens. No one could completely save him from himself, for not even an implant could rob him of his agency, but if she continued to present herself flawlessly they would not see merit on a replacement.

The icing on the cake was hearing Luke chastised and encouraged to be more like her. It had to make his blood boil. He dismissed this advice out of hand and perhaps it was because he sincerely thought the woman misguided, but it would burn nonetheless. That anyone of status would see him inferior to her would be an infuriating blow to his massive ego no matter how erroneous he perceived it to be. During the rest of the exchange she rested comfortably in her seat as she imagined how he would react if his own mother asserted such a theory. Criticism was not something her firstborn accepted well. That a farmer succeeded when he faltered, or failed, was unimaginable.

This was Rhiane's truest victory, even more so than the contest itself, and she would relish it no matter how short-lived.

Upon entering the floor that housed Luke the nurse was dismissed and Rhiane leapt up from the wheelchair the second the attendant was out of sight. Being mindful of the ten meters that she was allowed before either of them were left writing in pain she looked around curiously. Her own accommodations were lavish but not this opulent. That he had his own private swimming pool was both astonishing and revolting in equal measure. The excessive wealth that was gifted to the nobility was breathtaking but made her insides churn when she thought of how destitute others were as a result. Just last year there had been famine on the opposite end of their borders when a monstrous storm destroyed so much farmland that humanitarian efforts had not been sufficient to supply the populace.

"I'm not taking any medication," she announced as she limped along towards the bedroom. Rather than enter it she paused to enjoy the scenic view allowed by the walls of glass. Jaded, tired, and in increasing pain from the throbbing of her ankle, she felt the next sentence catch in her throat at the dazzling light of day bouncing off the landscape beyond. From this tower it easy to forget all the filth of living in abject poverty and be lost in the beauty of New Rome's capital city. The princess elect did not know how long she stood there utterly transfixed before she lost her balance and barely caught herself before she fell to the floor.

"I wondered if a doppelganger had taken over, but I see you are back to your lizard self," she prodded. There was a comical conspiracy theory hundreds of years old that the upper echelons of society were not in fact human but some creature descended from alien bipedal species that had subversively claimed the earth. Every once in a while those still able to joke about their bad fortune would accuse the 'blessed' dripping in jewels and designer clothing of being this bizarre inhuman race. It was a jab at him but not overtly cruel. "If I rest on the floor do I not prove my pet theory rather and defy your command to act like a princess?" she asked as she rounded the corner with pronounced hobbling.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"Didn't I... ask you?" she blinked in confusion. Technically she had not. She had proposed a marriage, and perhaps proposed a proposal, but not actually proposed in the same manner that Rene did now. Her mind spin two or three different ways as she hung on the strange revelation before letting out a little bemused laugh that resulted in more chuffing that expelled errant ash. Frustrating as it was to ruin such a beautiful moment with a sickly cough the passageways were becoming more clear with each exhale and she knew the irritation would subside with chemical assistance. It took a few precious seconds to overcome the laughter at her own expense that co-mingled with the more forceful bursts of air heralding the end of her wheezing.

"Yes, yes of course I will," the marquise responded not wanting to leave him waiting any longer for a proper answer. He had to have known, given that she had initiated the discussion and made her feelings apparent, that there would be no refusal. Many men only lowered themselves to one ceremonial knee when they had explicit conversations about marriage in advance yet there was something gained in vocal affirmation. Allusion, innuendo, and coy remarks were no substitute for the profound potency of a simple declaration.

Had anyone of any status been observing they would have laughed at the absurdity of the two people so divorced from their stations engaging in a haphazard adherence to tradition. Garbage still littered the edges of the ship that had become so rancid that only putting it out an airlock had a chance to cleanse the odor of the room. The hull was stacked with crates tossed in at the last moment in complete disarray and obstructing a path to the rear of the vessel. Rene's vomit was on the floor only a few feet away from where the couple was embracing one another. Walls were mottled with filth that no one had yet had the time to wipe away. Everywhere they had stayed before this day was a more appropriate venue: Lord Armon's estate, Min Ho and Oanh's home, Amber Horizon, the sprawling yet gaudy plantation. Solae liked to think that it was so undignified it showed the depth of their connection. It took dedication, and a focus on the person rather than the place, to forge an engagement in a decrepit freight carrier.

"Congratulations!" Mia exploded over the speaker as she was no longer able to withhold the excitement she had been programmed to feel for this sort of event. The intercoms struggled to broadcast a prerecorded fanfare from a parade in which they could hear the jovial laughing and clapping of a crowd. The diplomat was so startled by the intrusion of the artificial intelligence she jerked in Rene's arms in alarm. Temporarily she had forgotten they were not quite alone.

"Thank you, Mia," she managed with a glance to the soldier who was less than enthusiastic about the interruption. "I'd like for you to.." she requested as leaned up with Rene's assistance, this time successfully, and let a brief bout of dizziness dissipate, "to run a diagnostic. Take an inventory of all the supplies that are internally stored as well. We're going to need to sanitize the living quarters if we're going to be traveling in space for the next few days at a minimum."

"I have located a cabin with a bed adequately sized for both you and Sir Rene," Mia intoned with a playful purr that was wildly inappropriate. The lights dimmed in the cockpit and the control screens winked out until the only real illumination was the distant sparkling of stars in an ocean of darkness. Tearing away her gaze from the glittering, breathtaking wonder Solae saw glowing strips appear on the walkway as the synthetic being tried to guide them towards what she sincerely believed to be what ought to follow an engagement.

"I'm sure Sir Rene would appreciate a shower, Mia. Is there one on board?"

There was silence and a soft clicking noise as Mia, who had already begun running the processes to comply with Solae's directive, tried to analyze the schematic. The Bonaventure had more limitations to its hardware than an opulent mansion's mainframe and thus Mia, firm and obedient ally that she was, was not living up to her previous capabilities entirely. "There is one shower directly adjacent to the captain's cabin and shared with the crew quarters. Unfortunately, only one of you will be able to utilize it at a time as it is compact by design," she said with obvious disappointment.

Solae laughed to herself and shook her head. They both needed to bathe, probably her worse than him given how long it had been, but she wasn't confident in her ability to walk more than a couple steps before falling flat on her face and causing her new fiance to panic. "How do you feel about a romantic evening of washing off the grime and checking my abrasions for me?" she jested. It wasn't what he probably wanted when he imagined proposing to a woman. She had only just escaped the clutches of respiratory distress, she was covered in sweat, she had a vague sensation of bleeding from more than one wound, and her hair was an unspeakable disaster zone that would have made beauticians declare it a national tragedy. It was, however, what they had, and she was happy for it all the same.