Syrenrei

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"This changes everything, doesn't it?" she asked softly. Solae hadn't been brave enough to look through the names of the individuals for which there were genetic samples. The marquise knew that no one would have bothered with sophisticated equipment and the upkeep of medical material unless it was worthy of such effort. Some part of herself felt it was safer, that her ignorance would shield her from exponentially more emotional pain, if she didn't know the precise extent of the vault's reach. Traditionally when a nobleman or woman died such pieces of themselves were destroyed. That didn't mean many wouldn't prefer to skirt this moral obligation. During times of conflict many heirs to prestigious lineages died without a child to carry on their pure bloodline, or someone fell ill before they had a chance to conceive with their suitor, or they could not quite get permission for more offspring but wanted more descendants.

It was societal pressure that kept this ethical gray area from being explored. Dukes and duchesses, who were held in the highest regard unless they staged a coup like Duke Tan, would shun anyone who greedily tried to have an entire brood rather than the more acceptable one to four children. There would be whispers about deranged, desperate parents if they volunteered an egg from their deceased daughter to a surrogate- and they would find nearly impossible to find anyone willing to concede their sperm for such a ghoulish affair. The aristocracy found it tasteful by and large; however, this did not make it any less powerful. If Solae truly had any hidden ancestors of high stature she could be elevated by virtue of her pedigree and innocence relative these machinations.

With a sigh she rested her head against Rene's shoulder and tried to put it out of her mind. None of it mattered if she did not find a way to survive Zatis. It was comforting that her fiance thought no less of her but his opinion would not cure their situation. This planet was hostile to them now that the bounty had been broadcasted. There were few worse places to be than on a world filled with criminals and mercenaries that unabashedly worshiped the coin. Only extortion and threats might make them stand down or consider shifting their loyalties.

The device let out a soft ding to alert it had finished decompressing and decrypting all the data that had been recently uploaded. Rather than move from where she was curled up in her seat as close to her soldier paramour as was humanly possible, Solae gently lifted the screen and pulled it closer. The AI had found records relating to almost three-quarters of the names on her list. This ought not to have been surprising but it was a pleasant turn of events all the same. Most of the people who had been on this more distant colony came from a long line of, as some of her ancient stories called them, 'ne'er do wells.' What ones for which there were no scandalous secrets they were either exceedingly clever or relatively new to the city.

Scanning the list there was quite an array of damning evidence, not the least of which was a man whom had decided to forego the proverbial snip- some found it emasculating and refused on principal- and fathered an illegitimate son with a married woman. "I always children of my own," she mused aloud, "which my mother found surprisingly maternal since I think for her I was more something she did out of obligation. She loved me, more fiercely than she might have after the miscarriages, but I never got the sense she dreamed of having a baby, that it was a fulfillment of need she had herself. I was worried that the empress might deny us when we get back to the central planets because you are still a marine. Now I'm not sure she'll discover something infinitely more appalling in my history. To have all this information on the underbelly of the empire the Falias had to have met at least a few. What if I've got as many skeletons in my closet as Ten?" she worried.

It was unlikely. Solae was visually very similar to her mother, a woman who also had unnaturally golden hair, and some selective edits had probably been made to the embryo that became the linguist to carry on this preferred trait. If her father or one of her grandparents had been compromised the temptation would have been to meddle with the acclaimed, accomplished, and revered rather than the dredges that had been exiled. Because she didn't know with certainty one way or another the marquise couldn't help but fear the worst irrationally.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"It wasn't what I expected," Solae admitted aloud as she sank into the passenger seat of the vehicle. The marquise fished the two data sticks out of her bag as well as the device she had brought but not yet had a chance to use. She plugged in the first of the pair of information loaded objects and started the de-compression process on her compact computer. The car's system was much more sophisticated and could run the program faster but she did not trust it. Until they saw precisely what was in her haul from the vault she was reluctant to upload it anywhere that could be compromised. Solae was uncertain if torching or exploding the vehicle could sufficiently destroy all the evidence beyond retrieval. Modern technology made it increasingly difficult to keep secrets from falling into the wrong hands. The precautions taken by the Falias might have been considered unnecessary bordering on paranoid centuries ago but now they were merely practical solutions.

"It's not just documents," she finally said to begin her explanation. "Going in that's what I thought it would be from what little I knew. It was more like a museum to corruption, greed, and excess. I barely had a chance to look around and I saw proof that would destroy reputations and rip apart esteemed families joined by marriage. We both have seen and experienced how the nobility is not as virtuous, as faithful, as moral as they feign they are, but to glimpse tangible validation... it's frightening." She stared out the window as they whirled by drab buildings intermixed with garish attempts to lure in the freshly rich. A tall hologram pranced above a club advertising the latest in Zatis entertainment. From the way the woman was dressed she doubted it was an award-winning theatre production.

Silence fell between the lovers for several minutes. Rene was content to let her take her time mulling over her thoughts as he guided them along their course to a distant edge of the dome. Absently Solae removed the first data stick, threw it into her back, and inserted the second into her device. She didn't mean to keep anything from the noble-born soldier but there were topics that were difficult to broach even to oneself. While she could dismiss and try to forget the truth that haunted her from the underground room, such a feat would be impossible once she gave voice to its existence, as speaking aloud gave a potency to what dwelt purely in the mind.

"Genetic material," she said quietly. "Once of my ancestors was allegedly storing it in case there was some sort of catastrophe. But it's not that simple, is it?" Solae queried without pausing for his speculation. "I can't tell you with absolute confidence that every Falia that walked into that vault or any of the others did not bring out with them the means to make a human being from people dead for countless years. The implications... I'm not the first woman heir. What if my great, great grandmother took it upon herself to bear a child of a war hero and cousin to the imperial line? What if my own mother did not use my father when she decided to try to conceive? We both know that it's not as organically done as with the common folk. I don't have any reason to believe I'm not my father's but I never performed a paternity test."

For now she would not dwell on the prospect of cloning. This was less likely to have gone undiscovered given the imperfect science behind it. The intro-fertilization was harrowing enough. She could not say for the right price her diplomatic predecessors had not sold one-half of an embryo for a bloodline to which they had no claim. Everything she knew had been called into question. Weeks ago she had been content with her job on New Concordia at the embassy, with the quality of life she enjoyed, with her parents' endorsement of taking her time in choosing a future husband so long as he was of the correct stock. Quietly she mused if they had all along been so permissive because they knew they didn't need to adhere to the specimens their daughter's mate had set aside from his procedure. Wealth unmeasured was at their fingertips and no one was the wiser.

The Betrothed

With another low groan Rhiane peeled herself off the mattress by first rolling to her good side and then sitting upright. Competing urges, needs, and desires left her indecisive about which she ought to appease first. Truth be told she was almost certainly just as insatiable, if not more, than her fiance when it came to the fulfillment of vulgar acts of the flesh. Entangling herself with Luke again was what at the forefront of her mind as she fervently wished for an encore yet it was not possible at present. The princess elect had been debating between sleeping or eating when the suggestion was made to have breakfast. The heir to the throne's words were all the encouragement she needed to be prompted into action rather than lamenting the options for which they had neither time nor energy.

It was perhaps the most consciously cooperative she had ever been with the crown prince. Stifling a yawn she moved closer to the nightstand and took a few generous gulps of the medicated orange juice without any protest. Rhiane plucked a pastry off the platter, ripped it in half, and shoved a large offering of flaky layers of croissant stuffed with apple jam into her mouth. The shift in her demeanor could be attributed to both his more considerate approach and the appeal to her natural inclinations, but it was undoubtedly also because she was still riding the highs of contentment from their romp. The former farmer was a complex individual but was not without her simple pleasures. She could not be bribed with wealth or impressed with stature, but she could be coaxed with sweets and affection from a suitable person.

Just as she was mulling over a snarky response to his joke about Tobias she watched as Luke picked up his tablet and answered a call. Though she did not mean to eavesdrop she could not help hearing the conversation. Callista, whom Rhiane regarded with a warm fondness, was worried about her brother. The princess elect reasoned this was because Queen Camilla had to divulge to Luke's siblings the events of the last day. Had she heard Gerald was in a similarly deadly incident she might have been similarly bombarding him with frantic calls and messages. Shrugging her shoulders silently she kept eating. It was what they said next that snapped her attention back to the discussion- the news. Rhiane was confused. None of what transpired should have reached the media unless the crown or rebellion leaked their version of the events.

She was still perched on the edge of the bed nude, completely exposed as she had no compelling motivation to cover herself with the soiled sheets, when the video connected. The twin princes, unless blocked by Luke's shoulder, would have a generous view of the peasant's assets that had catapulted her to becoming the victor of the the contest. Rhiane would not have been embarrassed had she known. In almost every circumstance she was very confident with her body. What would have concerned her is whether or not this might invite a complex situation later should either of her future brother-in-laws not be quite so faithful to the sanctimony of marriage. Women had certainly been a complication in the relationships between brothers before.

As her betrothed shower Rhiane turned on the screen in their room and selected the first station dedicated to news that she found. She continued to drink her orange juice and swallow down fruit and bread slathered with butter as she waited with fading patience for whatever headline the royals referenced. There was a short segment about fluctuations in stock prices and an update on an arson investigation of a baron's estate followed by breaking news: the palace had confirmed an attack on the recently engaged Princess Elect Rhiane and Prince Alessandro as the cause for their delay in their tour schedule.

The escapism provided by two hours filled with the release of sexual tension and lust had almost made her forget about her trauma. Her appetite began to fade as she watched the sensationalist piece speculate about the extent of the injuries, which were currently under wraps, and the true identities of the so-called revolutionaries. It was hard for her to not relive the panic she had felt when the SUV sailed through the air, when she had seen Luke gasping for breath beside her, when assassins had burst into the clinic bathroom with weapons and taunts. It was surprising that the monarchy had said anything but it was not at all shocking the coverage exclusively vilified the coup. Rhiane could understand why they had thought this might be a good strategy for dealing with the rebellion but she worried it might just incite them.

Naively Rhiane thought this could not get worse; however, the reporters knew what sold was capitalizing on tragedy. The screen shifted from a desk with two men and a woman debating military approaches to this threat, which they all predictably endorsed, to a sombre middle-aged lady in a tailored blouse and skirt suit. Behind her an oversized image of a woman with long dark hair, bright green eyes, and a charismatic smile emerged into view. Rhiane was mortified. For years she could not bring herself to look at a photograph of her deceased mother and now it had finally found its way to nation-wide broadcasting. Her bother and father would be enraged and horrified at the lack of respect being shown.

"As we all know, Princess Elect Rhiane Black is the daughter of the late Violet Black, a citizen of New Rome who lost her life in the plague of seven years ago. Miss Black also lost her brother..." it trailed on but Rhiane looked down rather than confront what would be the smiling handsome face of Edwin Black. It made sense. Sooner or later they would find a way to incorporate her past to help convince the masses how the rebellion was cruelly targeting someone that did not deserve their scorn. Rhiane was a much more compassionate figure than anyone else in the royal family with the exception of Callista, but the farmer was a pawn, and princess was a treasured daughter who wouldn't be used so callously.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

The term "vault" conjured an image of a compact room tucked behind thick metal doors and a locking mechanism. Solae awoke on the descended polished platform with the passive expectation, after the haze of confusion passed from being rendered unconscious for identity confirmation testing, that she'd be greeted with the sight of an interstellar spy's storage room. The glass door of the capsule disappeared into a groove in the ground and granted passage to what lay beyond as she stirred. The ledger had failed to describe any of the contents of a single vault; it neither disclosed the founding secrets contained therein nor a rough description of the layout. This purposeful brevity left her unprepared for the cache left behind by her predecessors.

Stretching on for approximately fifty meters in front of her, and half as wide, was what at first blush appeared to be private museum. To her left was a large table with an inset interactive surface and surrounded by wide screens with a leather rolling chair for both comfort and sophistication while using the system. It was flanked by shelves and displays of original documents, all painstakingly labeled and sorted, of a variety of importance. Some were scribbled notes that could be final confessions given the correct context, some were paper copies of reports and legal findings, while yet were others were critical records proclaiming secret births, marriages, paternity tests, or the like. The center of the room were rows of pedestals and platforms with enigmatic objects. Upon one, and enclosed in shielding, was a set of linens and a silken nightgown she could only presume were the products of an affair. Another had a soiled and bloody firearm that Rene would almost certainly know the make of by sight. The largest was on the far end of the room and preserved a mangled aircar at least a century old if not more.

But what drew her immediate attention was the peculiar set of equipment attached and adjacent to the right wall. The immaculate machinery had an almost imperceptible hum and was undeniably medical in nature. Solae had very little expertise in the field. From what little the recognized at least a few pieces were cryogenic, meant to keep biological product in stasis. Most nobles only came into contact with such things when they reached their reproductive prime. Aristocratic men might make donations before they went through the sterilization process to ensure they had some of the healthiest sperm when they chose to have children. Women had some of their eggs harvested so that if it took decades to create an appropriate match they would not have to worry about their limited supply not being capable of creating an 'optimal' offspring. A shiver traveled down her spine as the marquise stared at it. If it had been at least a decade since anyone could be down here this could be a mad scientist's dream- direct descendants of individuals long since dead could be combined just as easily as an embryo for the living.

"Good day, Miss Falia. My records indicate when you were added to the list of authorized personnel at six years old you were unwed. Should I continue to address you as Miss Falia or should I amend my records to address you as Misses Falia?" a deep voice resonated through the room.

"Miss Falia is fine," Solae said after soothing her frayed nerves. It should not be a surprise that there was an AI assistant in the vault and yet she had leapt all the same. Distance and time away from Mia had made her forget how commonplace they were. After casting one last glance towards the chilled sterile side of the room holding remnants of humanity she made her way to the only chair in sight.

"How may I assist you, Miss Falia?" it inquired with a crisp pronunciation. Whomever had programmed this synthetic personnel had clearly integrated more decorum than they had with Mia. Solae found herself almost missing the breathless questions, the suggestive lilt, the inappropriate crooning as if she only felt satisfaction when the marquise and her lover had secluded themselves to the captain's quarters.

"I would like some help looking into whether or not we have information on some people of interest to me," Solae answered slowly as she pulled the folded list out of her bag. With her free hand she moved it across the interface screen directly in front of her. The digital surface sprang to life with a beautiful backsplash of an artistic rendering of the first intergalactic carriers bringing colonists to the edges of vast expanses. For half a second the diplomat appreciated the image and let her quest fall to the back of her mind.

"If you place the list face-down the interface I scan the names and begin compiling the data," the disembodied voice promised.

Solae saw no reason to object and did as instructed. The scan was over as quickly as it began. The names of file folders scrolled too quickly to read as the computer combed through its archives with superhuman speed and precision. While it worked the linguist rapped her fingers on the armrest of her chair thoughtfully. "What can you tell me about what's stored on the opposite wall?" she asked. Her curiosity was piqued and she would have to wait regardless for the system to retrieve the data requested.

"Dr. Vincent Falia created a repository from his work and research in the medical field," it explained calmly. "I can provide a catalogue of the collected samples if you desire, but I do not have access to his other repositories. Would you like to review the catalogue?"

"What sort of samples are there?" she asked though she was fairly certain she knew the answer already.

"The samples are of an assorted variety. The Falia family has provided, over several generations, genetic material that may be used in the event there is an event that eliminates all the bloodlines simultaneously. Dr. Vincent Falia hoped to preserve the integrity of the bloodlines by creating repositories that would have sufficient genetic material to produce new offspring or, if necessary, clone individuals of significant importance."

Solae sat stunned as she tried to digest the words she had heard announced over a speaker with detached indifference. She could appreciate the scientific appeal but it was equally amazing and horrifying that she did not know the extent of the preparations for 'remaking' ghosts of the past. Cloning had been forbidden for an exceedingly long time for ethical reasons; even when it had not been disallowed the clones suffered from a litany of difficulties that were hard to diagnose and cure. She did not even want to consider what could be conceived from the vat that undoubtedly included lords and ladies of exalted families.

"Do you have a data stick?" the AI asked her abruptly.

Solae fumbled in her bag and stuck two of the ones she had brought into the corresponding ports. For the time being she did not want to know anything more. No matter how good the intentions of the past members of the Falias had been, she was treading dangerous waters, and her conscience was burdened by this knowledge. One day at a time. There was a war brewing on the world above where she relaxed now and that was a more pressing concern than the moral quagmire of the vault. Rene needed her to return to him quickly so they could combat Ralch and, ultimately, the scoundrels that Duke Tan had in his employ. Leaning forward she put her head in her hands and tried to shut out the sights and sounds around her.

Slightly less than an hour later the marquise jolted awake. She had dozed without intending to do so; the preceding night she had slept little because she and Rene had been so desperate to display their affections in their luxurious suite. That just now some of her exhaustion was catching up to her was both worrying and impressive. Solae did not want to make it a habit to only rest for a few hours regularly.

"Did you finish?" she asked as she sprang up from her seat and slung her bag back over her shoulder from where it had fallen on the floor.

"Yes, of course. The data was too large for your sticks so it has been compressed. You will need an appropriate device to access the records. Not all of the names were linked to what we have on file so I provided what was in my system. Did you require additional assistance?" it asked even as she ripped out the two sticks and started towards the platform that led to the surface.

"No, thank you. I'll... I'll try to come back to see more," she called over her shoulder. Solae had no need to explain herself to a machine that had no semblance of feelings but she felt strangely compelled. She half-ran, half-skipped to the capsule, as it shaving off a minuscule amount of time might miraculously make a difference, and breathed in deeply once she was inside. "Send me back to the surface."

The Betrothed

For the first few moments, before he stopped to remove his shirt, Rhiane had been hesitant. She was very much like a child who got exactly what they asked for as a present on their birthday, after their parents told them 'No' many times, and they regarded the object of their desires with mixed excitement and disbelief. The princess elect had thought he might still be toying with her. As far as she could tell from their dip on the remote island he hadn't been particularly enthralled by her physique before. Sophia and her predecessors were all noblewomen that were ethereal beauties. While the farmer had been absolutely certain of her appeal to both the middle and lower class she thought perhaps she was too sensual, too vulgar, too far outside the norm for a prince to find physically enticing. She had braced herself for him to pull back from the kiss and make a joke. There was no mischievous laugh or cruel jab.

Had the whispers in her ear not convinced her of his sincerity then the way he no longer held himself back certainly did. With a leap of faith she met him with her lips and bare flesh. The last twenty-four hours had been harrowing. Since the moment that a creature stepped into the path of their vehicle and sent them careening into a ravine she had been a pale imitation of herself. Though she had not died it seemed as if the life had bled away from her soul. Gone was her stubborn zeal, her charismatic smile, her incredible pride, and her aura of confidence. The former farmer had been a hollow shell going through the motions with the hope imitation would be sufficient. Luke had breathed the smoldering intensity of her back into being when he had embraced her.

For two hours they explored one another on the lavish bed. Sheets had only gotten in their way and been discarded though the pillows had been allowed to stay. It was not like any experience Rhiane had before. She found herself aggressively greedy for him, enough she could not be content with a mere half an hour or even an hour, pulling him back or taking the initiative when he paused, possibly out of concern for her health. The room was filled with her gasps and her ecstatic cries. Luce Viscomi had thought to visit them when she had heard they had been served breakfast but quickly turned away once she heard the sounds carrying through the door. The walls muffled noise by design but no system was perfect, especially when someone was on the threshold, which she had been with her hand on the locked knob.

When they had first met Rhiane had quietly feared that they would not be compatible but she found reality to be quite the opposite; now that she had a taste of intimacy with Luke she could not imagine how she could not compare all others to him. She was surprised at her own enthusiasm and that she did not have to feign joy to protect his ego- something she had done before for a man that was inexperienced and arrogant. Each entanglement was thrilling, inviting, and hypnotizing, and made the personality flaws her partner held a more distant memory. Her only real frustration were the limitations of the arm on which she could not put any weight. Had they the time and privacy she might have kept her fiance captive the entire day. It was her fading strength, mitigated by restless sleep and lack of food, and the time constraints that made her reluctantly relent her grasp.

There was no denying the princess elect was a mess. She had rolled on her stomach, her hair damp and plastered to her back, and let out a low groan as she fought the temptation to go to sleep. Now that she had been thoroughly and completely distracted from her guilt she sleepy but also incredibly hungry. Her stomach growled for attention though she didn't move to heed its calls. Rhiane was loathe to do anything but bask in the glow of what had just happened. It was very possible that Luke would not indulge her as he did again, that his feelings would shift, that he would regret and do everything in his power from having history repeat itself. To concede they could not stay forever felt like surrender or defeat. Like a petulant child she wanted to shirk her responsibilities for personal gratification.

"I still need to wash my hair," she sighed miserably into the mattress. Of course it wasn't just bathing. To be a functional adult that wouldn't be executed by Queen Camilla for abdication of her duties she also had to eat, be examined by the doctors to make sure she was healing, review their schedule, have someone help her dress, and find a way to apply make-up with only one hand and no beautician in sight. None of this was made easier by the fact she couldn't expose herself to the royal bodyguards unless she wanted them to have them confirm with their eyes what suspicions they had about exactly what the betrothed couple did and how. Rhiane was not embarrassed but she was smug and wanted to keep all the details for herself. This was not a victory she was willing to share.

The Betrothed

"We both know that Tobias is not what I want," she stated with frustration in her voice. Rhiane couldn't fault him entirely for being confused as to her desires. When they had met initially he had made it crystal clear that they were to lead separate lives. The princess elect had anticipated having a cordial relationship, one where they had sex but without any emotional attachment, but Luke had found her peasant birth so off-putting that she had resigned herself to wait until Queen Camilla forced their hands. Despite their differences she had begun to develop feelings for him but had rebuffed his advances; she was absolutely certain he was playing with her, toying with her as if she were no more than a pet or novelty, and that he would never sincerely reciprocate intimacy. He was the queen's son. Aristocrats were the only women he would have desire for and thus she fled rather than risk being rejected.

What neither of them could have predicted was the impact of traumatic events. Perhaps his only motivation had been to deliver medication to her with the deep kiss in the SUV but things had changed. Both then and when they were ambushed in the clinic she had seen her own mortality flash before her eyes as well as his. She did not fear death, not like most of the world did, but she had become equally terrified of opportunities lost. Rhiane wanted to die on her own terms and with no regrets. There may be no afterlife but if there was her spirit could not rest without knowing if she had squandered a chance for happiness with the unlikely match of the crown prince.

"I want you," she said more quietly, "but not because you feel obligated, because your mother told you that you had to, because you were trying to be polite." Such a concept was off-putting to them both almost certainly. With this confession Luke might be able to see how her perception had been colored by his words to the extent she sincerely could not discern his motivations. "But if you can't find it in yourself to want me as well then I don't want you to feel forced." It was hard to imagine which was the worse scenario: Luke ravaging her in the bedroom because she was no better than a prostitute purchased for his use or because she had unintentionally robbed him of choice.

"I'm going to die, Luke, either by the rebels or because I've outlived my use. My days are numbered," she admitted as she tugged the other strap off her shoulder. The nightgown's pale fabric fluttered down her chest before falling to her waist. Although she had been in a state of undress before she had never been as exposed as she was now. Nothing about her was like the fragile, delicate flowers of the highborn houses- her bosom was larger, her waist toned rather than starved to size, her skin bronzed by the sun, her hips and shoulders wider to create the hourglass figure that could have made her a model for a men's magazine.

The sight was a distraction but she was desperate for him to be honest with her. "You're right, I could get pregnant," she conceded, "and we're both injured. There are a million reasons we shouldn't but I don't care about a single one of them. Being responsible still almost ended with us both killed yesterday. What do you want, Luke? Do you want me or do you want to be free of me? Will you take me or send me to Tobias?" she queried breathlessly with her face still flushed with invitation for the prince to act upon every urge he possessed. There was no denying her attraction. The longer he looked at her the more glaringly apparent that it was that she a woman trying to uncover the mystery of whether or not she could be allowed the indulgence of her consort. He had been waiting for a sign of encouragement but so too had she been waiting for him- because as of yet he had made vague allusions through action but no earnest acknowledgment of his stance. He had to decide: would he embrace the commoner or spurn her.

The Betrothed

Rhiane watched Luke's reaction to her suggestion that Tobias could wash her hair- which she had not considered seriously and had rather been the result of musing aloud- with detached confusion. The princess elect had only been speculating about how far the royal bodyguard might go in refusing to deny any of her requests. Had her proposal been serious she would not have subjected either one of them to the inherent temptation of being undressed together. She would have found a way to dress herself simply, perhaps with a towel over her shoulders to protect her clothes, and leaned over the side of the tub to allow Tobias to clean most efficiently. Because her imagination had not seized hold of the fantastical portrait of seduction that Luke's had, where two attractive people were nearly naked, she was somewhat baffled by the intensity of his response.

His next words inquiring if she was serious sounded more like an accusation than a question. Nevertheless, she had opened her mouth to try to explain herself when he had deftly set aside his tray and straddled her lap. Rhiane's breath caught in her throat at his proximity but she did not back away. The way he told her that no man 'in his right mind' would 'say no to a woman as yourself' was a sharp departure from the Luke of the engagement ball. He had been able to reject her many times. For as long as she lived she would not forget how easily he had been led away from the celebration by the actress. His disgust with the arrangement had been so profound Queen Camilla had to intervene and force him not to leave the farmer's side. Now, in spite of having taken more than one opportunity to show his bias towards the highborn ladies, he had declared her desirable. Less than twelve hours ago he had professed he had only indulged her kiss because it would be rude to do so.

Any moment now she was confident he would stop. She stared at him, unblinking, too emotionally exhausted to suss out what bizarre motivations and intentions possessed him, when he insulted her by calling her naive. Rhiane thought it was a ridiculous label considering her sordid past with the male sex but she had no opportunity to contradict. Luke's attack was no longer one spoken but of affectionate action. He kissed her cheek, her jaw, her neck, and her heart thudded so loudly in her chest she thought she too might have to seek treatment from Dr. Gulsvig for broken ribs. This was what she had wanted. She had wanted him to touch her, to caress her, to affirm her beauty as a woman. Perhaps it was because he was fulfilling her forbidden wishes that she did not dare to stop him as his fingers sought out the strap of the gown. With very little effort the flimsy piece of fabric dropped down dangerously low.

"It's not..." she tried to call out over Luke's shoulder but Tobias was already gone. The sight had been ultimately too much for him to bear. Rhiane knew there was little she could have said to put his mind at ease. Any excuse she had would have given would have been a total lie- it was exactly what it looked like and she did have feelings for her fiance. It shouldn't have bothered her yet it inexplicably did. The princess elect cared very deeply about her only friend in the palace viewed her; for once she was not content to let her reputation suffer under misunderstanding. Later she would seek him out and try to confirm that their relationship had not been irreparably damaged.

"I don't have to tell you to stop," Rhiane asserted softly. There were goosebumps still on her flesh from where he had let his warm breath linger tantalizingly. "Last night you said you only kissed me because I wouldn't have taken the medication otherwise, that you were only being polite by not pushing me away," she continued. Although this was a subject that brought pain to her voice it did not waver with emotion. Her inflection was calm, even, and confident, as if she were merely reciting facts instead of admitting the source of her heartache. "That's how I know you won't go any farther. You'll stop of your own accord unless I ask you not to, and I can only imagine then you'll say it was under duress, and against your better judgment, that you didn't want to be impolite."

But Rhiane could not pretend under the scrutiny of his crystalline blue gaze that she didn't want to shed their garments and explore their needs, the depths of their attraction, and if the lightning that crackled beneath the skin was a good omen of things yet to come. She had certainly slept with men as a matter of convenience that she found exponentially less enticing than the crown prince. His mischievous predatory gaze was alluring in ways the tabloids had failed to capture. Willpower alone kept her in place as she took heavy breaths that almost dislodged the single nightgown strap that kept her modest. She tried to steel herself for Luke to withdraw, to suddenly laugh and say a peasant didn't deserve a dance between the sheets, that he would only perform under obligation when they were instructed his mother to share a bed for the purposes of procreation.

"If he really likes me as you claim he does, this could be a way to free you from having to humor me," Rhiane continued. Despite herself she couldn't help but provoke the jealousy that had reared its ugly head. She had to watch as Sophia twice turned the head of Luke and so now it was only fair he suffer a taste of the same. "You can make it his duty to attend me so you don't have need to do so in private. We could keep everything professional." Technically the actress had been affair once the heir to the crown had become engaged. Perhaps Sophia had broken up with Luke but that did not mean that he was of a mind to stop pursuing others like her. What Rhiane alluded to was an arrangement where he could be a playboy in secret while his cousin was his stand in when the princess elect found herself yearning.

It wasn't what she wanted. Luke could almost certainly judge this for himself from the color of her cheeks as she watched him, from the way her body had become hot to the touch, from the way she did not withdraw but remained frozen in place, waiting anxiously for his reply, nervously anticipating a callous rebuff.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

The city had seemed like it was still half-asleep, a behemoth that under the weight of its own vices spurned the morning, when they had first set out for the bank earlier in the day. There had seemed to be more gaudy holograms than people walking the streets. Now that hours had passed and dawn had broken over the bleak horizon beyond the domes it was no longer quite so deserted. As Rene exited the garage with their rental vehicle Solae had pressed her face against a tinted window, secure that no one could see past its reflective finished, and peered at the unusual populace. There were men and women conducting basic transactions in the street, merchants hawking their wares, performers with flyers and costumes to draw in the easy marks, and prostitutes with their Johns feeling no sense of shame as they took advantage of an alleyway off the main roads. On almost any other planet everyone scrambled to hide their weaknesses of character. On Zatis these sins were worn like badges of pride, embraced and indulged, and she felt that much more a foreigner for her convictions.

With the coordinates provided by the Falia ledger they drove to the far edge of one of the domes. It was part of an industrial district that produced goods illegal on most civilized worlds. The closer to they grew to the sophisticated technology that shielded them from the inhospitable exterior environment the more sparse the buildings became. They were forced to the ground and were less than ten meters from where translucent dome struck the ground. It was easy to see why no one wanted to use this space. Vertical space was at a minimum and until the terraforming was complete the landscape was not a view to be cherished. Solae had to admit inwardly she preferred the faux opulence of the casino or the vulgar displays for the brothels over looking at an expanse of toxic vapors.

"It's here," Solae confirmed as Rene parked the vehicle.

A simple building stood before them with a plaque that read "Zatis Waste Disposal System Access Point. Authorized Utilities Personnel Only." It was a good ruse if it was one. No one would want to investigate anywhere associated with refuse should they even wander to this place. Solae stepped in front of Rene to try the handle and test if it was locked. She felt the metal grow warm under her hand, as if it was conducting a scan, before there was an audible click. The door easily swung open.

Inside was a bare room less than fifteen feet wide or long and seven feet tall. There was nothing on the walls and the only pieces of furniture were two wooden chairs and a table between them pushed to a corner. In the center of the structure was a circular plate embedded in the earth. It was a composite she had never seen before, even in all her time on New Concordia and her visits to more luxurious planets, which made her consider it was either old technology or very specialized technology not often used. No inscriptions were on the polished grey surface. All she knew was that she was supposed to stand on the stone and wait for the automated sequence to verify her identity and whisk her away to her destination.

"I'm going to leave the ledger with you for sake-keeping," Solae told Rene as she handed it over. She had with her a small bag of data sticks, some notebooks and pens for any notations she wanted to take for herself, and a device for taking pictures and video if she so chose. It was hard to anticipate exactly what she would find and be adequately prepared.

"According to the construction notes the vault itself is somewhere past the dome underground. This is just the entrance. It'll put me under once it confirms I'm a Falia so I won't know how far it is, or which direction, or how fast I'm traveling. Altogether it should take me less than ten minutes to get in and there and less than that to get back. I'll be protected is what I'm trying to say," she stated with a meaningful look. "If you need to leave to a more secure location you don't have to wait here. Just promise me one thing- you'll be nice to Ten if you have to reach out to him. I know you don't care for him or trust him, but we don't have many friends as useful as he is to us and I'd rather stay in his good graces than having to remind him why he ought not to calculate the best way to betray us for his own benefit. I'm not saying he might not in the future, we just don't need to add any incentives to accelerate his schedule."

Solae took a deep breath and stood on the tips of her toes to give Rene a kiss on the lips. For a moment they forgot their responsibilities and obligations. They wrapped their arms around each other and embraced as if it might be their last. Their separation ought to last for only hours at most but neither one wanted to waste this chance to affirm their love if things went sour. The marquise pulled away reluctantly after a couple minutes and stepped onto the smooth rock. "I'll be right back," she promised. In the blink of an eye the grey stone had descended quickly, pulling the noblewoman with it into the depths of Zatis, and an identical covering slid into place. It was as if she had never been there. It had taken her a fraction of a second to disappear.

"Welcome Solae Falia," a voice intoned to Solae in the darkness. "We will begin the authentication process." There was a soft hiss as gas filled the chamber she had found herself in. Even if she had wanted to escape the capsule was not much larger than she was- her shoulders had less than a foot of clearance on either side. No matter how valiantly she tried she could not fight the anesthesia. As her eyelids dropped over her eyes and her body slumped against the glass a soft melody, perhaps meant to induce relaxation, played over an invisible speaker and she felt a tiny needle prick her arm.

[Detailed] Long-term

I remember you, then! I saw the name and thought it was a mere coincidence but then thought I recalled the avatar- specifically a fox- was also the same. I fled the site a while back when the AEGIS RP run by Welian started to go under. Someone in that RP recommended this site to me and I have to confess I was lured by the fact most of the users here are older than I was finding on RPNation. I don't think anyone I used to talk with is still there, sadly.

Glad to see you here, though!

I don't think I'm what you're looking for in a partner (I'm trash at male character mains, every time I've done them as more than side characters it's been a disaster) but I hope you find someone. Heard more than one person sing your praises in the past. =)

[Detailed] Long-term

I think I remember seeing your name on RPNation- are you by any chance another refugee? Sorry to be off-topic, just thought I might be seeing a familiar face!