Celebrations of Aged War

[Squee]

While Sali was irritated by the guests’ reactions to Rook, she couldn’t help but believe she would think the same in their shoes. It was rather odd for another royal from another planet to be participating in another’s celebration. As Rook made his way through the crowd, Sali took a moment to glance over at one of the attending advisors not too far off at a table full of delicacies and drink. The man’s expression was neutral, though he did watch the crowd as he sipped at his drink. Oh, well, at least there was one guest that did not seem keen on treating Rook like a new species of alien.

When she finally came face to face with Rook, she smiled widely. She noticed the change. The way the softness of his face had stiffened up. His shoulders rolled back a little bit further. His eyes attached to Lord Farrell all the while. For a brief moment, he aimed to ignore the beast rider and he bowed, extending his thanks for the invitation.

Sali returned his bow respectfully though she really wanted to slap him across the face. She had already made it slightly clear that she’d known Corellia royalty was attending this celebration, but she didn’t need Rook to go around saying it out loud, and with the word invitation. It was still annoying that she herself hadn’t extended the invitation and Farrell looked at her funny. She could feel the Beast Lord’s eye staring inquisitively at her, and her quick glance at him confirmed it.

“Lord Farrell, this is King Solosten, who’s a friend of mine. King Solosten, Lord Farrell of the Beast Riders.”

“Majesty,” was all Farrell said as he glided into a shallow bow. “Such a pleasant surprise to see Corellia here tonight.

Sali drew in a long breath. Yes, everyone was going to believe she’d extended personal invitations to Corellia. She was a bad guy for it, too. Things would work out. They would work out just fine as long as the two men didn’t become frostier toward each other as the night wore on. Farrell was being rather stiff, and also standing up straighter, though with a couple of inches on Rook he really hadn’t the need.

When was dinner served? Men always seemed calmer in the presence of food.

The music suddenly changed to play a different song and Farrell perked up. Sali also recognized the tune and wished it hadn’t happened right then. It was one of the few dances that both the beast riders and the nobles of Iziz could join hands and dance to. Sali was expected to dance them with Farrell. Already, some of the bolder men and women were starting to make way and begin the steps of the dance.

“Would her Highness dance ‘Flight of the Birds’ with me?” Farrell beamed and extended his open hand to her. He was trying to dig at Rook by saying the name of the song, to make it apparent there was a relationship between him and the queen.

“Of course,” she replied back with a smile, placing her hand in the Beast Lord’s. She glanced back at Rook, and made a polite, sweeping gesture toward one of the tables closer to the dance floor. Farrell led her off and they paused at the edge of the dance floor, Farrell timing the moment they could swing right in. Once they were in, there was a brief call and applaud in favor of the queen.

If would only take minutes for cultural song to end and change to a song that everyone in the room could dance to. It would only be minutes before Sali and Farrell would return to Rook.

When was dinner being served again?

[Meira]

An honor, Lord Farrell. Rook said as he returned Farrell's bow. He couldn't stop a slight chuckle from escaping his lips at Farrell's next comment. A pleasant surprise indeed. But he offered no comment himself. He was an oddity enough as it was, no need to embarrass Sali further.

Rook was only a breath away from inquiring the nature of the "beasts" the Beast Riders chose as mounts when the music changed and a certain twinkle found its way into Lord Farrell's eye. He then asked Sali to dance and Sali accepted, gesturing toward a set of tables for Rook's benefit before she allowed the man to lead her toward the dance floor.

Part of Rook wanted to growl... or punch Lord Farrell for flaunting his apparent relationship with Sali in front of Rook's nose. This part, driven by testosterone and pride was, however, very much under the control of Rook's more logical side. This side knew the nature of this celebration called for happy interaction between the leaders of the two cultures.

Rook bowed his head slightly to the two and made his way to an empty seat at a table that Sali had motioned toward. Before pulling out a chair, he nodded his head to those already occupying the table. Two ladies nodded their heads back at him, one of which took a moment to realize she was staring before she could. The two gentlemen with the ladies, presumably their husbands, also nodded their heads. One even offering a "your Magesty". Rook took his seat then, fairly comfortable with their acceptance of his presence.

An attendant was quickly at Rook's side, prepared to take a drink order. Rook asked for a glass of mild wine, then turned his attention back to the dance. Like the name of the dance, those on the floor did appear like birds in flight. The steps seemed quick, sometimes almost random. But the grace of the dancers showed through and Rook joined in on the applause when Sali and Farrell joined in on the floor.

This is one of the dances both our cultures share, you know.

Rook turned his head and found that one of the ladies, the elder of the two at the table, had leaned in slightly to speak to him. Rook adjusted himself so as to both be open to her as well as the dance floor.

I was guessing as much. He replied with that clever smile of his. The older woman smiled back, kind, motherly even. His glass of wine arrived and the woman held hers up to touch with his.

To peace, no matter what the nation.

Rook's smile widened as he touched his glass to hers. She had something knowing in her eye, as if she'd caught onto something even Rook hadn't noticed. It was both confusing and comforting. As if she understood him.

To peace. And he took a sip.

The wine had a wonderful sweet flavor. It was no Corellian wine, to be sure, but Rook had his bias. A few minutes later, the song ended. Rook stood along with many others to applaud the dancers. Again, he straightened himself up, chest out. These unconscious gestures were perhaps the results of proper posture training throughout his life, or perhaps the result of a more base instinct. Being unconscious gestures, Rook was unable to discern which.

[Squee]

The crowd applauded loudly at the end of the dance, when Sali and Lord Farrell bowed respectfully to one another. Looking up, Sali drew in a deep breath to catch her breathing. Flight of the Birds was an energetic, fast dance that celebrated the happiness of the truce and peace. It required a lot of movement of the legs to throw up the skirt to simulate ruffling feathers. Since the men didn’t wear dresses, they did their best to flash around their female partner.

Quite different from the natural world, really, where the men flashed their beauty and impressed the women. Now it was about impressing other people of the female’s beauty.

“Well, now that we’ve worked up a thirst, let’s go get a drink,” Farrell suggested while offering Sali his arm. Sali smiled as she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and allowed him to lead her off the dance floor. Some of the partners remained on the floor, spinning circles to the slower, more commonly known song.

At first, it seemed Farrell wanted to go to the table opposite the one Rook was at. Then again, after a long glance, Sali realized there were a larger number of riders compared to the table Rook sat at, which had more nobles. It would seem that the Beast Lord was only going to where he’d be more comfortable; around his fellow people rather than the finely dressed and considerably pampered noble folk. With a gentle tug at the lord’s elbow, Sali redirected him back to the table Rook stood by.

The waiters constantly circulated between the kitchens and the guest, always boasting fine wine, ale, and other drinks to pass out to the guests. One swung by when Sali and Farrell were a handful of steps from Rook, supplied with Sali’s favorite wine and something Farrell can tolerate. Except Sali stalled the waiter for a hairsbreadth of a moment to speak to him. The reply was quick, with a shake of the head, but Sali nodded anyway. She led the way back over Rook.

“Did you find a drink suitable for your wild Corellian tastes?” asked the queen with cute smile. “Because I know for a fact that people on Onderon have a sweeter tooth than the spicy frenzied people of Corellia. Well… the nobles and I like our food marinated sweetly. The riders…”

“Smoked. Most of our food is cooked over open fires. Different woods and plants give the meat a different taste, but it’s still smoked.” Farrell took the moment to sip at his drink.

“My lady,” the waiter had returned, carrying a full tray. “They say within half the hour, but small appetizers should be out within ten minutes.”

“Thank you.”

The waiter nodded and whisked away, heeding the call of a waving beast rider.

“Well then, by that time we’ll be seated. Rook, would you sit on my left?”

[Meira]

For the briefest of moments, Rook thought that Sali might not return to him after the dance was over. He watched Lord Farrell lead her off the floor in a direction that would not bring the two back around. But the moment was gone and soon Sali stood before him again. He could see the faintest flush in her skin from the pace of the dance she'd just finished. It made her glow.

He smiled and nodded his head when she asked about the wine. Sweeter, yes. But it is delicious.

Sali continued her explanation of the Onderonian tendency towards the sweeter things in life, and then Lord Farrell offered his culture's own preferences. Rook nodded his head in approval. Smoked meats were fine indeed, many Corellian dishes were smoked, though with a healthy addition of spices as well. Corellians always did search for that spark to add to any dish.

Corellia has a few wild game that is best served smoked. There's a particular fish found off the Golden Coast... The words brought back the memory of that night and Rook's eyes automatically turned to Sali's, his heart seeming to stop a moment before he recovered. There are many different ways to prepare it, but my personal favorite is smoked over a golden palm wood fire.

Rook cleared his throat as the waiter came to Sali's side and spoke to her about the evening's meal. When she asked if he would sit at her left, Rook bowed his head slightly. Of course. He motioned for Sali and Lord Farrell to lead the way. His little stumble had left him feeling slightly deflated and he welcomed a moment in which they might not be looking at him. The way Lord Farrell seemed to hold Sali close to his side didn't escape his notice, however.

As they moved through the crowd of guests toward the elevated table, Rook wondered if it was his place to be seated at such a place of honor, considering the event. He assumed Lord Farrell would be taking Sali's right, the higher honor, but this was to be expected. Rook had not been expected at all. But Sali had asked, had she not? And he'd agreed. Again he was conscious of eyes watching him as they walked, but there was nothing for it but to continue. Inwardly he sighed. Such a silly little king... what have you gotten yourself into?

[Squee]

“Now, why did you invite Corellia here?” questioned the beast lord, leaning over close to her to ask. He’d squeezed them quickly past a small crowd of people, effectively blocking Rook off momentarily. “Because this certainly isn’t how it is supposed to be.”

“I didn’t do it,” Sali hissed defensively, though her voice was completely neutral. She kept her face forward, turning it only slightly to dip her head at passing people. “My advisors did. Trust me, Lord Farrell; I would not think to invite another monarchy to this particular celebration. He is an ally, though, so would you be kindly to him, please?”

“I will,” he replied with a slight sigh whistling under his breath. He led her up the couple of steps to their elevated table. “But the left side?” The beast lord took her chair and pulled it out for her, holding her hand as she sat down. Gently and carefully, he pushed her into the table.

“It was my right,” Sali replied quickly. In truth, she should have asked some other noble, usually the one she was courting. Except Sali wasn’t courting anyone, and Rook was a visiting friend. A very powerful visiting friend. She smiled sweetly at Rook as he sat down, hoping that at least one friendly glance would help ease the pressure of all the skeptical ones. Though when the drink waiters came around, Sali helped herself to a full glass of wine.

The announcement that food was to be served rang out within the half hour, as the waiter had promised Sali. The small delicacies to ward off any extreme hunger pains had come out long ago, and Sali was finishing her wine. The higher nobles and riders had taken their positions at the table. Mercifully, a jovial man sat next to Rook, introduced himself, and tried to strike a conversation.

Large platters were being whisked and transported to all tables, though there was heavy flow to the honored table until it was full. Some said blessings and some began to pile their plates immediately, but chatting was constant. Farrell joked freely, his best friend to his right. And between the two, Sali was laughing at some of the tales they told; from melting trees to being lost to some of the goofy things they did as boys.

“… so, using the glue my father just made, he glued all the fur onto his upper lip.”

“Which wouldn’t had been so bad except… I used the tail hair.”

“Stuck there for a week!”

Farrell chuckled as his friend was in a bout of hysterics. “Liney, my friend, I think you’ve had enough to drink. Now, pardon me, Your Highness, I have something of great importance to prepare. Don’t worry, it’s part of this year’s celebration. I shall return.” The beast lord, scooted back his chair, gave both Sali and Rook a little dip of respect, and then made off. The best friend turned and started another story with several people in opposite direction, away from Sali.


“How are you doing, Rook?” she turned to the corellian king. “I hope you are enjoying yourself.” She really just wanted to ask what he was feeling, and if he were getting along okay. Her eyes were sympathetic and her left hand set down her fork so her fingers could lightly touch him. Just to gain his attention. They lifted away as soon as she did acquire that attention. If he were any part of himself, he would pick up on the usual I-have-to-speak-diplomatically-but-I-really-don't-mean-it-that-way game they had to play.

[Meira]

All people, no matter their planet of origin, had culture. And within those cultures, celebrations were widely common. Though the meanings and activities varied greatly, there was one common part to celebrations, and that was food. In the end, it didn't matter how different two cultures were, people had a way of enjoying the essentially simple thing of sitting down and sharing a meal. One could dress it up and fill it with pleasantries and formalities, but at the core, it was always the same. Once they were seated at the table, wine and small appetizers served, Rook found himself immensely more comfortable than he'd been ever since he'd stepped foot on Onderon.

Though Sali was, for the most part, occupied in conversation with Lord Farrell, Rook didn't feel left out. This was largely thanks to the young nobleman who'd found himself a place to Rook's own left. This man, who'd introduced himself as Lord Alex Lannister, immediately began asking Rook a number of questions and seemed genuinely eager to learn about the unexpected Corellian King.

Rook was happy enough to oblige, especially when the topic turned to hunting. Rook didn't know how the beast riders did their hunting... he assumed atop their mounts, but his own people preferred to keep their sport closer to the ground. Rook was comfortable with this conversation and dove into it completely. To the point that it was actually a surprise when he felt Sali's light touch of her hand.

Rook set down the knife he'd been using to cut into a particularly delicious bit of meat. The smoky flavor had him assuming it had been prepared in beast rider fashion. He approved.

“How are you doing, Rook? I hope you are enjoying yourself."

Rook nodded his head as he washed down his last bite of food with more of the sweet Onderonian wine. He believed it was growing on him. Sali's polite words and gestures hailed that all too familiar royal facade. He was not insulted. They'd played this game before. And they would most certainly play it again. As long as they held their offices, this would be.

I am. Quite well, actually. Lord Lanister here... Rook had turned to gesture toward the man, but he seemed to have excused himself quietly at some point. Rook shrugged and turned back toward Sali. Well, he and I have been getting on quite nicely. He then noticed Farrell's absence from the table as well. He couldn't stop the twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. But he did stop it from spreading across his face.

But where has Lord Farrell gone to? Rook lowered his voice slightly, leaning into Sali as close as propriety would allow. Absent at his own celebration? Rook made a tisk-tisk sound with his tongue against the back of his teeth before sitting straight again and chuckling to himself as he took another sip of wine. Perhaps this would have to be his last glass.

[Squee]

“He said he has an arrangement to prepare and he’d return,” Sali replied, though she smiled at the disappointing noises Rook made. The king didn’t seem all that disapproving that Farrell was missing, however. “It has something to tie into the celebration, and it’s not my position to stop him.”

A sudden cry for silence resounded above all voices in the room, sharp, sudden, repeated, and echoing. The noise of many tones and the telling of many stories came to a pause, dying off in chunks and then dwindling off one by one. By nature, everyone looked in the direction of the noise. Of course, the man whose task it was to silence the entire room stood behind Sali. This was not coincidence, but careful planning. If either of the leaders wished to speak a piece about their anniversary of peace, when the silencer called, all heads would turn in the general direction of Sali and Lord Farrell, were the beast lord sitting next to her.

Speaking of the devil, the beast lord was quickly moving around a table and returning back to Sali. He mounted the steps to the elevated table in two smooth strides. The lord drew himself to full proper and proud height with his shoulders back and chest slightly out. On his face he wore a smile, and he picked up his wineglass from the table.

“First of all, I would like to thank Her Majesty, Queen Hyria, for her generosity and hospitality for inviting and allowing us to be within these marvelous palace walls as we celebrate. Everyone is enjoying a fine feast?” Slight murmurs rose in agreement. “Very good, because I’m sure Queen Hyria had some say-so about the menu as well.” Chuckles. “So I’d also like to thank her for her attentiveness to the Beast Riders’ meals.” Sali grinned, matching the lord’s smile.

“As we know, this feast of togetherness is the celebration of the peace that has existed between the riders and the people of Iziz for four hundred years.” Farrell punctuated the length of time with his voice and body motion. “This is such an exciting feat made possible by our ancestors, and continues in probability marked by us, tonight, as we partake with each other. Here’s to peace!” Lord Farrell lifted his glass in the air, which was joined by many more glasses, including Sali’s, before everyone drank.

“Secondly is an announcement that excites me to nervousness,” the Beast Lord continued. “As few would know, Queen Hyria and I grew up aware of each other. My parents would spend time with hers in discussion pertaining to laws and lands, and we were expected as children to tolerate one another’s existence. We progressed into more diplomatic means than playing in the same room for several hours. I do believe I have come to understand her ways and her thinking better than most others.

“So, without any further ado, and believing tonight so perfect…” Sali felt as if ice water were being dumped over her head. Her arms crawled with gooseflesh. She had such a gripping and sudden sense of dread that she could almost hardly take the lord’s offered hand. He helped lift her from her seat. “I admit my feelings for you, Queen Sali Hyria. Please excuse the following informality, but, Sali Hyria, will you marry me?”

Sali drew in a breath and held it, inflating her chest and standing still. No. She couldn’t. Her head turned and looked over the congregation, staring at the surprised, eager, and anticipating faces. More than half the people were leaned forward in their seats. Most smiled. Most nodded. The some others were frowning, or leaning over to whisper in their neighbor’s ear. Too many people. Farrell had to ask in front of over a hundred people? On a night like this?

Sali resisted to glance over at Rook, knowing if she did, the people would think the king had an influence over her. She truly wanted to, though, knowing a specific truth would be announced in his expression. Answers to the questions she’d asked him that morning. Was he here for planetary peace making? Was he here for a relationship? Was he here out of lust?

Sali released her breath and returned her attention to Farrell. Several moments had passed in near total silence as the congregation awaited their queen’s decision. It would be a decent meshing of the two cultures. It would reinstate the kind of power and position the beast riders had in the community, and they would enjoy immediate benefits having their Lord as Onderon’s King. Farrell would make sure his people were treated properly and fair always, in all the days of his reign.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to decline your proposal.” But this isn’t what Sali wanted. She and Farrell did not know one another as well as he claimed. Yes, he may know a handful of her opinions and her political standpoint, but he knew nothing of her.

Instantly, the hall interrupted with shouts of objection and disapproval. She lifted her hand from Lord Farrell’s and remained standing to watch Farrell’s face burn a deep red. Sali heard the stray accusation that the queen, being her, only wanted to horde power for herself. Others nearby also claimed that if she kept her abstinence for much longer, she would not produce an heir to continue the crown. Is this what came down to? Power and heirs?

“You don’t want to do this…” Farrell murmured as he stepped close to her.

She met him eye for eye. “I believe I just did. No, I will not marry you.”

“You’ve simply started a controversy. Look as your people argue with mine. If you would simply accept my proposal, this would not start. The pact of peace does not have to fall apart. Another Beast Wars, I’m sure, is at the bottom of your list.”

Fury rose within Sali, and before she could restrain herself and speak quietly, she was shouting. Shouting with great conviction and strength, in all her power, and with all her air. “How DARE you!” What mattered that the attendees nearby jolted in shock? Their heads turned to watch Sali confront the beast lord. A queen who stood righteously tall and squared, taking the ground Farrell retreated as he stepped back in his own surprise at Sali’s fervor.

“How dare you!” she shouted again, which quieted the room with some hushing. “I embarrassed you and that gives you the right to threaten me? The pressure of a room full of noble and respected men did not grant you your wish, so you attempt to manipulate me? Scare me? You would declare an act of war because I will not marry you? I won’t let you be king so the peace between us and our people cannot exist? Then I have made the perfect choice in denying you!” Farrell gave ground, stepping down the stairs and leaving Sali to tower over him. “For what else would you threaten me with were I your wife?”

Farrell was a deep and healthy shade of red, almost purple. “My Queen, I assure you—“

“Get out!” Sali hissed, loud enough for the people to hear. “Your people may remain, but you are not welcome. You are no longer an ambassador of peace, as you were when you first arrived. You are your own greed. Quest for your power elsewhere. It will not be here where the symbolism of peace. We will discuss matters another time. Now get out!”

Her hand swung, gesturing and pointing at the door. Obviously defeated, Lord Farrell straightened himself, keeping his darkened face, and marched himself out of the hall. Sali stood tall with her neck stretched out, watching until the doors closed behind Farrell before she heaved a quick breath. Upon turning, Sali’s expression took a softer appearance. Her fingers were laced in front of her, and she studied the people in the room. Chairs began to scoot, back, mainly from a good chunk of beast riders, who dropped their napkins and followed Farrell’s footsteps. Solemnly and motionlessly, Sali watched half the riders plus maybe an eighth of the high nobility vanish behind doors.

She tucked her chin and lowered her gaze, looking to Rook then with a slight worry in her brow. In a couple short steps, she lowered herself into her chair, sighed long, and took up her fork once again.

[Meira]

Rook matched Sali’s small smile with another of his own as she explained her dear friend’s absence. He did not push the jest any farther. He was about to enquire on how she felt when the call for silence went out. Rook knew, that to a certain degree, he and Sali shared a limited amount of patience for the formalities and pageantry of such official occasions. They both knew how to play their part, and well, of course, but Rook had the pleasure once of letting those political walls down with Sali. It hadn’t ended too well, to be sure, but he remembered her careless smile. But such inquiries would have to wait. Lord Farrell had returned.

Rook turned and listened politely as Farrell gave his speech. When the Beast Lord was done with the first half of his toast, Rook raised his glass along with the others before taking a sip and setting it back down. By this point, Rook was feeling the effects of the oversweet wine. He was by no means overtaken by these effects, but all the same, he would have no more once the toasting was done.

His eyes had wandered absentmindedly to the table before him as he continued to listen to the Beast Lord’s words. With each one that passed, Rook felt an unwelcome tightening in his chest. The tone of the man’s voice, the words themselves, something was being built up.

“I do believe I have come to understand her ways and her thinking better than most others.”

What could he mean by that? Rook’s eyes raised, quizzical, to view the man once more. He had a smile on his face that Rook liked not one bit. Sali seemed stiff as durasteel as Lord Farrell took her hand to help her stand. Rook saw naught but the back of her head, but he could feel the tension all the same.

“I admit my feelings for you, Queen Sali Hyria. Please excuse the following informality, but, Sali Hyria, will you marry me?”

Rook heard the words, but refused to believe them. He felt frozen, solid. The good Lannister man, Alex, had returned to his seat at some point, evidenced by the sudden clap to Rook’s shoulder. Rook turned at the sensation to see his new friend grinning and wiggling his eyebrows at Rook. The man had had too much to drink, it seemed. The silence continued in the hall as everyone present waited with baited breath to hear the queen’s response. Rook felt as if a cold sweat had come over him. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the back of Sali’s head, as if staring hard and long enough might grant him the power to see through her hair and flesh to her face, where he might discern what she was thinking.

No. He pleaded silently, selfishly. You don’t want this. Sali I don’t presume to know your mind, but I know this much. Say no!

“I’m afraid I’ll have to decline your proposal.”

Rook suddenly released the breath he didn’t know he was holding. All around him the hall had erupted in different sorts of noises. Shouts of disapproval rang out from Beast Riders and Onderonian Nobles alike. More quietly, some sounds of approval were barely heard. The good Lannister man at Rook’s side let out a too-loud guffaw of laughter and clapped Rook across the shoulder once again. Rook ignored him. He could feel only an overwhelming sense of relief. He allowed his body to collapse back into his chair and he stared at his wine glass, pondering the merits of just one more. But then he could hear Farrell’s low words, drowned by the din of the hall as they were. Rook misliked the tone immensely. His eyes turned once again to see that Farrell had stepped closer to Sali. She responded, and Rook praised her silently. She was a strong woman and was not like to be frightened by an embarrassed man’s angry tone.

His words continued, turning into threats. Rook’s hands clenched into fists atop the table where he sat. His jaw clenched, creating an unmoving stone line. His brow furrowed. Such an affront could not be suffered. He wanted to stand, place himself between Sali and this conniving beast, and show him just what such behavior could be expected to win him. But Sali needed no champion. Her response rang through the hall, silencing all. She pressed, and Farrell retreated. Rook found himself on his feet by his chair. He did not move, but his eyes were locked on the Beast Lord. Sali’s every word was fire, and she unleashed it on the man with all the fury her tongue could conjure. Farrell retreated down the steps of the dais under the heat of her attack, the blood coming to his face and turning him near the color of a plum. He tried to speak, but Sali cut him off, telling him to leave.

As the Beast Lord turned and marched out of the hall with the bits of dignity that remained to him, Rook relaxed once again. He eased himself back into his chair as he watched a number of Beast Riders, and even some Onderonian nobles take their leave as well. His eyes turned back to Sali. Just moments before, she towered over Farrell, now she seemed deflated as she watched the disapproving leave. When she turned, he finally got to see her face. She looked to him, at last, with worry in her eyes. Oh the price of being strong. He thought. He tried to convey his sympathy through a small smile. When she sat, he wanted to take her hand in his own. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and reassure her that she’d done the right thing.

Right for who? He wondered as he took up his own fork. But the food had lost its flavor. Sali, I… He didn’t know what he’d meant to say as he set the fork back down on the table. What was to be done? Had the night been ruined? For all the charm he’d accumulated over the years, for all the practice at being a good royal, he didn’t know how he might help her. What could he do that would not cause offence to her people? If Rook had felt out of place before, it was nothing compared to now.

It seemed the conductor of the band wished to lighten the mood that had so suddenly fallen over the hall. He struck up the band, and a light-hearted waltz soon filled the air. Rook might have laughed. It was to a waltz that he and Sali first danced. Perhaps they could do so again. While the remaining guests stirred, unsure, in their seats, Rook swallowed the lump in his throat and stood.

Would Your Grace honor me with a dance? He asked, presenting his hand to her.

[Squee]

Sali sat and pushed her food around her plate a little, feeling a sickness in her stomach. She didn’t look up from her plate. She didn’t try to listen to the uneasy starts and silences of conversations. No meeting the gazes. No attempts to try to continue the party, restore it to its fabulous joy and merry-making as it was before this… this… rather unfortunate incident.

Part of her wished she’d have said yes. Yes to Farrel, yes to keep the people happy, and yes to promote public stability and good opinion. The other part of her, her personal wants that hardly exposed itself to the public, rejoiced in her decision. So be it, it whispered to her. So be it that the people disagreed and the riders were very unhappy with her. She had rights to be womanly! She was entitled to have personal feelings and opinions instead of always operating in selfless political sacrifice.

Not only did her diplomatic side clash with her personal, but she held great annoyance for the people. The people that disapproved of her so much that they could not continue the party. The people who whispered her selfish cling to power and how she did nothing to ensure peace in Iziz or Onderon. The people who partook of her wine and her food and were partying under the shelter of her palace and would throughout the night through wind, storm, or tranquil weather. They would always find a fault in her. And each time her personal opinions or personal desires came into making a decision, they would point fingers and say how wondrously selfish she was.

When she was probably the most selfless figure in this room.

Yet her troubles did not end there. The conflict between her two halves and this simmering anger was joined by another: worry. Worry about what she’d done. What would be the outcome of her denial? Had she truly just returned them to four hundred year ago? Her subjects were riled. Many would take her position. The media would exaggerate everything. There’d be anger and strife and stress among her people, between the ones who think her marriage to the Beast Lord would be splendid and those who would side with her through thick and thin. The relations with the Beast Riders would be slightly strained, she already knew.

And she could not eat with this sickness brewing in her stomach.

“Sali, I…”

Oh, Rook. Can’t we go back to the beach again? If only your word truly mattered, and I could ask like a little girl to be excused and go cry my frustrations into a pillow! And that was just it, too! If she could, she would retire to her room and she would be alone. And she would speak only to herself, for no one else would be there to listen. She hadn’t the slightest person in this palace that would discuss things with her. The servants would only agree with her. The advisors would tell her she was speaking nonsense and scold her on what she should have done. There was no one to truly listen to her.

I’m lonely. Her revelation came on her suddenly.

The noise in the room had changed. Sali’s head lifted slightly as she noticed the musicians were playing once again. An easy, soothing waltz. Sali found herself sighing through her nose as she listened, the wash of music easing away some of her burdens.

Beside her, Rook stood up. He held his hand out to her, asking if she’d dance with him. Sali hesitated, knowing that the opinions of the nobles and remaining riders were at stake, depending on what she did with Rook’s hand. If she accepted it, they’d whisper about the depth of their relationship. If she declined, there’d be a more approving aura.

Then she recognized the song.

Public opinion be damned. Sali stood and slipped her hand right into Rook’s with a brazen smile. “Yes. I’d be delighted to.” Her voice was warm. She turned then, slightly, expecting Rook to follow suit, and started down the stairs.

[Meira]

I shouldn't do this. He waited. They're all watching. She won't risk it. He didn't move. The moment of pause lingered an eternity as Sali considered his offered hand. He could guess the prospect was being weighed. But just as Rook was preparing himself for his own dose of humiliation for the evening, he felt her slum fingers slip into his hand. There was no power in the universe that could have stopped his smile.

Ignoring the whispers that began to spread through the room, Rook moved with Salu toward the dance floor. Salu danced with Farrell out if custom. She came with him to the floor now, he told himself, because she wanted to.

They took their place on the floor. Their joined hands repositioned unthinkingly as their other arms took up position. Rook gave her hand a slight squeeze accompanied by a slight smile as they paused, waiting for the right beat to start their feet moving.

The moment came and Rook, providing a slight pressure with his hands to indicate their direction, eased them into the flow of the music. The song was nowhere near as fast as the song Sali and Farrell danced to, but it had an easy charm of its own. Rook much preferred it. The movements were second nature, leaving him with enough mental faculties to speak to Sali.

I hope I'm not being too forward in asking... He paused his speech so that he could release her from his arm that held her side so she could spin. When they reunited, he continued. But I would like to request a case of your fine wine. I believe I've grown a taste for it, and I would hate to find myself back home a week from now with a craving I could not quench.

While partially serious, Rook hoped Sali would take the jest for what it was; an ice breaker. What he actually wanted to ask her was if she was alright, if she would rather excuse herself than dance with him, if there was a certain troublesome Beast Lord she wished to be forever rid of. Rook was fairly sure that in that moment, he would do whatever she asked of him, as long as it made her feel better. But he did not wish to broach the subject if she was unwilling. He would lead the dance, but she would lead the conversation.

[Squee]

The whispers hissed in her ears. Sali was sure that she could guess what they were saying, just as she had all night, and had been doing for many years. The urge to heed to them tingled her very senses, a drastic shadow looming over her that stared her down through the pairs of eyes she and Rook passed by. The pull backward… the little voice saying she needed to laugh nervously and apologize to Rook, withdraw her hand…

Sali squeezed his hand tighter. Not now. Oh no. She was going to enjoy this. She was going to bring back some joy she’d lost in the last minutes, and she was going to do that by dancing with a man she liked. When she and Rook matched up properly for the dance, Sali returned his smile with a touch of uneasiness that belied everything she was trying to imitate. The little pause ended when Rook decided the time to move, and she followed the press of his hands.

“Ah-hnn,” she giggled in response to his request. “I’ll be sure to arrange it then. It does have a bit of a sweetness that can’t be ignored. I find myself drawn to a glass every so often, especially when things are slightly… amiss…” Sali trailed off, keeping her brown eyes perfectly aligned with the neutral gray of his. “And usually when I have the option of… hiding.”

Force knew how much she wanted to spill onto him. Her frustrations, concerns, and fears. Be able to speak out loud while thinking. Maybe he would have listened. Sali didn’t know. She and Rook hadn’t known each other for very long. Part of her doubted he would want to listen to some queen from another planet rant about the upcoming politic issues she knew would rear snarling faces tomorrow. Part of her remained rather… optimistic - Was that the correct way to describe it? – and hoped that if she ever became the loosest lip in the galaxy that Rook would be there to listen.

For now, she held his gray gaze and shook her head slowly. “I don’t… Why did he have to do that? Why then? Why tonight?” she whispered these questions to him, though they sounded like they were more for herself. “I’m not sure who he believes he is… I wish he hadn’t.” She sighed and glanced away from Rook’s eyes. “He expected a yes.”

Moment of silence. She lifted her chin quickly, noticing her off posture in the waltz. Her face returned toward him.

“I’m sure you’ve attended some grand party and arrived at a point when the party is no longer enjoyable. I simply… do not have a golden beach to retreat to.” The corners of her mouth lifted slowly.

[Meira]

The music urged them to move in circles around the floor. A few others had dared to step in as well and join the dance. As they moved, the stares felt like walls that bordered the dance floor, walls with long spikes that kept one from wanting to venture too close. A mistake. A fool. I've only made things worse for her. But he couldn't take it back now. He'd have to finish the dance, if nothing else. Maybe then he could find a way to ease this extra trouble he'd brought her by asking to dance. Why did the band director have to pick this song? Any other and Rook might not have acted so stupidly.

His eyes connected back with hers when she agreed to his request. He smiled as she smiled. It was a reaction he wouldn't have been able to prevent even if he wanted to. Her smile, uneasy as it might have been, compelled him. Ah. He nodded. Yes. When I need to hide from my advisers, I'll have a glass and think of you. His smile widened, genuine and kind, as he again released his hand on her waist to allow her to spin.

When they reunited, the conversation changed to the bantha in the room that everyone wanted to ignore. Why had Farrell proposed like that. Rook knew well enough. He'd seen similar men, ambitious nobles, back home. It was different on Corellia, however. Rook's father had no daughters. No men came to the palace boasting and expecting. No, they'd paraded their daughters like prized livestock. They'd do this in public places, important gatherings or celebrations. Like Collin's wedding, for example. Rook couldn't have counted the number of available noblemen's daughters had been brought before Rook's second eldest brother, Henry, and to a lesser extent, himself.

I know I don't know him, Sali. But if his behavior tonight is any indication, he is a coward. He whispered back to her. He used this setting, hoping your manners would force you into feeling you had no choice but to accept. But he's a fool to think that he could play you the puppet. His smile grew sly. You were amazing.

There was a silence that fell between them, as they continued in that familiar waltz. Then Sali spoke again.

“I’m sure you’ve attended some grand party and arrived at a point when the party is no longer enjoyable."

Oh, yes. He nodded, and his eyes grew distant as a number of instances flashed into memory. Most of them, were his own fault. He'd had a few years not long ago where he was the one that wrecked the mood. It usually involved too much alcohol.

"I simply… do not have a golden beach to retreat to.”

His eyes and focus were brought back to her, to the slight smile that had formed on her lips. Without command, his hand that held at her waist brought her just a fracture closer. His brow knitted just slightly, adding a sincerity to the words that fell, unbidden but no less true, from his mouth.

It's yours.

His mouth closed quickly, arms relaxed their grip as he seemed to deflate slightly, eyes falling away from hers for a moment. He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat before he chanced to look back into her eyes. What I mean to say is...

A flourish, and the song ended, leaving Rook feeling even more foolish as his mouth hung open, his thoughts unfinished and lost. His eyes glanced around and he suddenly remembered the other people in the room, and their eyes, and Farrell. He cleared his throat and his smile returned, uneasy. Releasing Sali, he took a step back and bowed to her in thanks for the dance. Propriety, manners, custom. One hand tucked neatly behind his back as he straightened up and offered his other to escort Sali back to her seat.

A clap to his shoulder and Rook's head turned to yet again see his new friend Alex Lannister grinning at him. I wonder if you would allow me, Your Highness, to steal my lovely Queen for the next dance? We're cousins, you know. Distant of course. He chuckled. Rook glanced at Sali, his eyes apologetic.

Of... of course. His jaw set with the frustrations of what he'd left unsaid on the dance floor. He bowed his head to her again. I believe I've crashed your celebration long enough, Your Majesty. My thanks, for your kindness and your hospitality. It was almost painful, the formality, but he pushed through it. Another bow, and he relinquished her hand. He straightened up, watching her move away, then turned and quickly made his way to the nearest door.

Pushing through it, Rook found himself on a terrace, overlooking the gardens Sali had shown him that morning. In the dark, with only the pale light of two of Onderon's four moons shining down, the garden seemed a vastly different place. No less beautiful, just different. Rook leaned his weight on to his hands as he placed them on the stone railing, releasing a heavy sigh.

The jingle of a bell caused Rook's eyes to glance to his left in time to see a cat jump up onto the railing. His eyebrow lifted as the feline inched closer, sniffing at his arm before glancing up at him, issuing a light meow. It almost sounded like a question. When the cat leaned forward, brushing its head, then it's whole body against his arm, Rook realized that this must be the other royal cat. He let out a breath of laughter as he obliged the cat's request and gave it a quick scratch behind the ears. Satisfied, the creature sat down on the railing, turning its head to look out over the gardens with Rook.

I've ruined everything, haven't I? He looked down at the cat, but a rustle in the bushes down below had caught the cat's attention, and it quickly slunk away to investigate. Rook sighed again. I'll take that as a yes.

[Squee]

It's yours.

Sali blinked, one of her eyebrows arching in the perfect expression of, “what?”. She searched his turned face for some kind of clarification, but couldn’t make any sense of what he said by studying him. He looked back and began to speak again but the music abruptly ended. They stopped dancing, Rook caught off guard and Sali sighed softly. He stepped back, bowed perfectly from many a practice, awkward uneasiness plastered on his brow, and then led her from the floor.

She was about to ask him what he’d meant when he turned to address Alex Lannister. As soon as the man asked for a dance, Sali knew she wouldn’t get an answer. Rook relinquished her to Lannister and thanked her for invitation, to which she replied absentmindedly with something along the terms of “my pleasure”. He departed with Sali gazing after him a few seconds more. Sali then carried her attention to Lannister, smiling, and allowed the man to lead her into yet another dance.

The rest of that night, nobles begged her hand for a dance and what riders there were questioned whether they may do the same. The hall seemed outstandingly quiet and bleak to the queen despite the ruckus half of the attendees could make with the other half gone. And perhaps thirty minutes after Rook left, she’d stopped glancing around hopefully in case he returned.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was far too late to be awake.

Sali blew a breath of frustrated air, flopping her arms out to her sides as she glared at the dark ceiling. A rolling chirp sounded beside her leg and she felt the animal stretched, its body trembling against her thigh. The queen sat up, reaching down to pet the disrupted feline down its back. The vibrations under her hand told her the cat was purring, and it shook its head after she scratched the ears. “Fantasia…” Sali said gently, for wanting to speak without knowing what to say.

Her eyes wandered around the room. Dark. Void. Tomb-like silence besides the exceptionally soft rumble of the cat’s purring. Sali’s teeth clenched, aggravated at such lack of noise. Her hand pushed the covers from her legs, the cat mewed in protest, and Sali slid from her bed. Her ankles and knees ached in a way easily ignored. There was a drag in her shoulders and her hips begged to sit. She was tired physically, but her mind refused to rest.

“Can’t you just get with the program?” she asked herself, rubbing her temples as she turned on a light, adjusting it so it shone dimly. At her vanity, she picked out a pretty clip, gathered her hair over her shoulder and clipped it in place. She swept up her robe, pulling it over her shoulders and adjusting her hair over it. Her door opened when she pressed the button, and the guards outside her door stiffened. Fantasia pressed against her leg just before Sali stepped into the hall and went right. The guards hesitated, and then followed her. Fantasia’s bell jingled as she trotted ahead of Sali, glancing back every so often to see if her human counterpart was still coming.

Sali leaned into the side door entrance to the garden. There she turned and held her hand to her guards, who halted with profound expressions on their faces. “I’ll be fine,” Sali said.

“Milady…”

“No. There should only be passed out drunks in my hall. I doubt any harm will come of me in my own garden. Please…”

The guards hesitated, glancing at each other and fidgeted, obviously uneasy. “Milady, it is very late and I hate to question but… are you sleepwalking?”

What? Sali grinned and laughed. “No, I’m not. I simply cannot sleep and I wish to walk by myself.”

More shifting. “Would you like me to go fetch your slippers?”

Sali glanced down at her feet. “No. I’ll be fine. Thank you. Remain here if you must, but don’t follow me into the garden. If I’m not back by sun-up, then come searching for me. All right?”

“… Yes, my lady.”

Sali smiled as she spun around, noticing Fantasia sitting and licking a forepaw. The jangling of the cat’s bell rang loudly as the cat pounced after the queen. Sali paused, coaxed the cat to her, and removed the collar, throwing it back in the guard’s general direction. Then she slipped down the stairs and onto the garden’s grass. The late night excursion had Fantasia full of energy, who slinked back and forth under the moonlight and jumped after bugs. Sali followed more slowly, but if she turned right or left, Fantasia noticed and charged after her to take point again.

For the most part, Sali just watched the cat play with herself, until she found the bush she’d been seeking. The flowers were white themselves, and the moonlight illuminated them in a ghostly aura. The four petals were wide open with slightly curled tips. The pads of her fingers stroked the curl of the petal as she reached back and broke its stem. She petted it, smelled it, and then proceeded further into the garden, swinging the flower by her side. Fantasia took to giving playful mews, chasing the waving end of her robe and batting at Sali’s heels. After several minutes, with her shoulders and ankles tiring quickly, Sali began the slow trek back toward the front of the gardens, deciding to pause by the fountain.

Water coated her fingers as she brushed the rippling surface. With a weary sigh, Sali lowered herself beside the fountain, propping her arm on the edge and watching the particles of light play before her eyes. The flower rolled between her finger and her thumb for a long couple of minutes before she placed it upon one of the lilies floating in the fountain’s water. Her cheek rested heavily on her forearm and her eyes began to drift closed…

The startled yowl from Fantasia made her start with a small gasp. “Wh-what? What’s there?”

[Meira]

...I'm beginning to think you were in on the whole thing.

Your Majesty, forgive me, but that is absurd...

Yes well, that's the word of the day, isn't it?

I... well... I...

Have wasted enough of my time. Thank you. I'll meet with you when I return.

But Your Majesty there's sti-

Rook deactivated the screen, cutting the comm connection with his adviser. He'd had enough of the man, with his stumbling over his words and his general lack of anything worth while to say. The man's first mistake had been contacting him so late. He'd apparently not bothered to check the time on Onderon, so while it was the middle of the day for him, Rook was caught half asleep and so spent most of the conversation rubbing his eyes and donning what resembled suitable clothing.

But now that the impromptu meeting was done, Rook was left dressed and awake far too late into the evening. He'd retreated to the rooms that had been provided to him at the palace estate after his embarrassing exit from the feast. There, he'd requested some more wine, just enough to calm his nerves. He was lucky to fall into a sleep, restless though it was... until he'd received the call. There was nothing for it now. He wasn't about to start drinking again, and there was no way he would be falling back to sleep any time soon. He stood on the patio that his room opened on to.

The night air was chill, but he wore a thick shirt and long pants. His feet were bare on the stone floor, but the cold of it felt good against his soles. His hair was an auburn mess, bed tangled and dull in the moonlight. His jaw, slack, had the shadow of stubble all along it, adding to the tired look in his eyes.

And he was tired. The day had not been physically demanding, But Rook still felt as if he'd been running the whole time. His shoulders and his back ached, his knees felt stiff. And his neck! Rook twisted his head around until a string of pops released some of the pressure. For all the softness of his pillows, he must have been sleeping on it wrong. Maybe a quick walk would help... He thought to himself, stepping from the patio onto the grass. The blades were cool and soft, with just the slightest dew beginning to form. His room was not far from the gardens, and seeing as how Rook was familiar with few other areas on the grounds, he made his way in that direction.

He wandered the paths, the still silence broken here and there by the chirping of an insect, or the trickle of water over a fountain. He had no aim, simply allowing his feet to move forward of their own accord. His mind also wandered, over the events of the evening, all the things he said that he shouldn't have, the things he didn't say that he should have, what he could have said differently. When feet and minds wander, missteps are bound to happen...

RRRWOOOORRRRRRRGGGHHH!!!

Rook recoiled, his foot pulling back quickly from where it had just squashed something furry. Looking down, Rook realized he must have stepped on the cat that now stood, back arched and hair standing on end, hissing at him. It was the same cat that had paused to let him scratch behind its ears after his flight from the feast. Though now it seemed much less friendly. And for good reason. He moved to lean down, offering his hand out to pet the cat in apology, but it growled again and batted at him with it's paw. Rook retracted his hand, holding both up by his shoulders as a sign of resignation.

Alright. I'm sorry...

“Wh-what? What’s there?”

Rook looked up to see Sali, sitting by the fountain and her head turning toward him and the cat he'd so deeply offended. Her eyes would fall on him standing there in surrender to the feline. The cat hissed again before turning and bounding back to Sali. Rook remained frozen for a moment before he realized how ridiculous he must have looked. He lowered his arms and cleared his throat. Thankfully the blush that rose in his ears and neck was hard to see in the pale moonlight.

I... I'm sorry. I was just... His arms gestured along the path from where he'd come. I was just walking. I must have stepped on its tail. I... I didn't know you were out here. He took a breath. Please forgive me. Bowing his head slightly, he took a step back. I'll leave you alone.

[Squee]

Before her eyes had gotten chance to settle on Rook, Sali first saw the fluffed up figure of Fantasia racing up to her. The feline pulled up short a few inches from her, turned sides, and stood looking back at Rook with raised ears and a flicking tail. Sali reached out her hand, touching the cat’s head and earning a rolling “rrrrrow” as Fantasia crouched suddenly, her nose pressed to Sali’s palm, sniffing it. At that time, Sali had glanced back up to Rook who was apologizing for stepping on her cat’s tail.

“She doesn’t look too bad…” Sali began to say, although it was much too low for Rook to hear. Fantasia pushed her head all around Sali’s hand and then chased it to the ground when she lowered it. Then she spoke louder, “I assume that if it was broken she wouldn’t be in such high spirits.”

I'll leave you alone.

Sali lifted her hand once again and stroked it down Fantasia’s back, frowning at his words. Was she just going to let him walk away? While logic told her yes, and to get up and return to bed, Sali wasn’t too sure she liked that idea. However, if she didn’t say something quickly, he’d be gone and she might as well just agree with her logical side. She would admit to herself she was a bit thrilled Rook was awake and wandering through the gardens. It meant… well… she was hoping it was because he couldn’t sleep, and not simply because it’s daytime on Corellia.

“Rook, you’re welcome here.” Her smile was little. It was more appreciative in appearance even though he might not stay at her words. Fantasia rolled over, exposing her belly the way cats do when they trust someone. Absently, Sali scratched the feline’s stomach until she bat her paws on either side of Sali’s wrist and rolled onto her side, staring after Rook while purring loudly. “Gardens are made for wandering. Getting ‘lost’ in, so to say. I don’t mind if you stay.”

In fact, I would like you to stay. As her mind said this, she didn’t realize, out loud:

“I would like you to stay.” She’d said the same thing until a several seconds had passed. Once she did realize she had said it aloud, Sali felt her cheeks begin to burn. She’d said that out loud! “I-I mean… You can… if you want… I-If you’d like to, I mean… You certainly may. I, uh…” This wasn’t making it any better. “Have no objections to you doing so,” she quickly finished, probably far too low for him to hear.

Sali averted her eyes, fighting her blush, praying the moonlight was too dim to see it.

Oh, to the wind with it.

“Say you’ll stay.”

[Meira]

One step backward, then another. Small bits of gravel from the path stuck to the bottoms of his feet. He was turning, pivoting on one foot and bringing the other about when she spoke. He paused, foot still a few inches in the air as he considered her words. She was being polite, of course. It took his sluggish mind a moment to realize it though. Propriety, courtesy, their constant companions. He smiled and it painted a picture of understanding across his face. He understood her courtesy, the need for it, for the show. He bowed his head slightly again, preparing to give his own courteous thanks and refusal. He knew a polite "leave me alone" when he heard one.

“I would like you to stay.”

Again he had moved to turn and walk away. Again her words gave him pause. This time, however, a rock considerably larger than the smooth, smaller ones of the path found its way squarely into the middle of Rook's foot. The pain shot up through his leg, flaring up fast but dying just as quickly. This did not, however, stop the king from jerking his leg upward and grabbing at his foot with both hands. Sali was saved the embarrassment of him hearing her stumbling words as he breathed in sharply through clenched teeth and rubbed at the spot where the murderous rock had sought to wound him.

Rook set his foot back down in time to see Sali turn away. Did she really want him to stay? His hand came up to scratch at the back of his neck. For a moment, all that could be heard was the cat's purring.

“Say you’ll stay.”

I'll stay.

She'd barely spoken the words and his response had flown from his lips without thought. It came out low. Rook wasn't even sure if she'd heard it. He bit his lips, brows coming together in a puzzled expression. That was the second time this night she'd drawn words from him that, though he did not think them, were entirely true. Rook stepped forward, but hesitated. His hand wiped his jaw as he thought, eyes darting around as if they had some sort of audience. But the nobles were gone.

They're all gone... The sudden realization hit him in the chest like a blaster bolt. They were alone out here. A lump rose in his throat that Rook found particularly hard to swallow back down. He and Sali had rarely been alone, truly alone. Even when they were alone in a room together, there was always someone on the other side of a door... A guard, or a servant, or an adviser. In fact, the last time they'd been alone was on the Golden Coast. And he'd mucked that up famously. But she wants me to stay. He told himself this as his feet moved forward.

Fantasia rolled over onto her feet, scampering away as Rook's feet brought him to the fountain. He stood over Sali, who was still turned away. His shadow moved across her shoulders as he lowered himself down to a knee, then turned and sat down next to her, wiping away the little rocks that stuck to his hands. He cleared his throat, unsure of himself. Yet again the queen had caught the king off guard.

[Squee]

I’ll stay.

She’d barely uttered her last words before his answer tumbled into her hearing, almost too fast and too low to be heard. But, wasn’t it joy to her ears! In fact, her blush deepened and strained her face further while her smile quivered, confused, on her lips. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to look over at Rook. What would he think if he saw such a childish thing smeared across her nose? If he could see it at all but Sali wasn’t willing to risk looking like a crushing six-year-old.

Fantasia flipped right-side-up and leapt over the queen’s legs. Sali’s hand followed in the direction of the cat’s tail fleeing beneath the wiggling of a bush. A stillness froze her slightly outstretched hand as she seemed to register that the feline was gone. Then that hand retracted slowly back to her lap. Her eyes took notice of the further dimness cast over her, Rook’s outline swaying and sinking. The air stirred around her and her spine tingled as her body alerted her to the presence of another beside her. Pebbles fell with dull tings. Then the catching noises of phlegm being cleared.

Sali shifted and unfolded her legs, sliding her heel out from under her. As she pushed her feet in front of her, her gown caught at her knees until Sali leaned over and quickly stretched the material back down to her ankles. The queen sat back up, her shoulders touching the fountain. One foot hooked over the other and her hands laced together against her stomach. She exhaled a sigh.

Now what did she say? After being so quick to ask him to stay, she should have something to tell or say to him. Sali half expected him to refuse, however, so now she sat with her fingers combing through her long hair. Over her shoulder it dangled down around the end of her ribcage. Currently it was a way to occupy her hands as she searched for a good opening statement.

“Um… thank you?” Sali mentally kicked herself. That should have been a firm, grateful statement. Instead the tightness returned to her cheeks as she fought a renewed blush. “I…” Oh goodness, Sali, get a grip. “Well, I hope whatever rest you did get was… restful.” She sighed again, fingers raking splits in her hair. “I’m sorry. My mind’s… confused. Heavy even. I’d give better words if I could think of them. It’s been a long night.”

[Meira]

She shifted her position as he settled onto the ground next to her. Their eyes didn't meet. Instead his eyes watched her hands. They watched as she shifted to place her back against the fountain, as her fingers quickly gripped the hem of her gown to pull it down over her legs... her skin had been a cool white in the moonlight, but the gown covered that skin now as she crossed one leg over the other and her hands joined together at her stomach.

There was a pause, awkward as ever, between the two as they both sat. The fountain supplied a background of trickling water, the wind a rustle in the nearby trees. Fantasia added a soft mew as she rustled through a bush. Rook watched her hands.

His throat felt dry. He moved his tongue to wet his lips, but it did little. What now? Foolishly, he thought of draping his arm around her shoulders. Fearfully he froze, afraid, because in that instant his arm twitched as if to do just that. What am I, sixteen? He thought, taking a breath to steady himself. Sali's hands were playing with the ends of her hair. Those long locks that he knew to be brown looked almost black in the dimness of the night.

“Um… thank you?”

Damn it... He'd been right. She was only being polite when she asked him to stay. He should have refused. He should have never left his room. He should have stayed home. He should have never kissed her in the first place. Damn it.

“Well, I hope whatever rest you did get was… restful.”

He nodded. Yeah... Yes. Yes it was... He let the lie trail off.

“I’m sorry. My mind’s… confused. Heavy even. I’d give better words if I could think of them. It’s been a long night.”

No. Sali... He probably should not have used her first name... Don't apologize. It's late and I shouldn't have disturbed you and... it has been a long night. Again he let his words trail off. Finally, he chanced to glance up at her. How are... I mean... Are you alright?

[Squee]

He’d said her name. And her first name. Not Hyria. No royal prefix. Just Sali. She smiled a little then, liking the informal, and therefore imperfect, way he’d addressed her. Maybe she should tell her advisors to call her by her first name during the meetings. No worshipful awe. None of the elevated nonsense that reminded her how much she was on display and how people always noticed if there was a hint of imperfection . When someone called her by her name, she felt less like a porcelain doll and more flesh and blood. He’d said her name. Unafraid. Not uncertain. He humanized her, and she loved him for that.

“You disturbed more my cat that you did me, Rook. It’s late, yes… but I’m awake. And it’s a nice change to have company that doesn’t beg to fetch your slippers or convince you that you’ll need help should you stub your toe on a rock.” The hand furthest from Rook fell to the ground and gripped at the pebbles. She looked forward, her smile gone, her eyes hard and staring into the night. “‘Milady, I can save you from that fall!’ Heaven forbid! What if I broke? What am I?” She threw a fist full of pebbles, slightly aware at how quickly her ire had been awakened. The small rocks weren’t thrown for distance and they did far more scattering than much else. “A favorite toy they fear dropping because I might shatter? The thing is, who’d cry for me?”

She ground her teeth back and forth before snorting angrily. “I-I often wonder who came up with all the rules on how to be a leader. And I also wonder how come everyone seems to believe that having your life under constant scrutiny can be simple thing. Why can’t there be emotional leaders? Why is showing soft emotions considered to be weak? They value anger and gripping fists,” Sali raised a fisted hand, shaking it slightly, “because apparently that’s supposed to express complete self control but anger is hardly any more controllable than love is. Yet love is a weakness and fists of anger eventually lead to mutiny. FAKE LOVE is tolerated and supported grotesquely more than TRUE LOVE. What the hell is up with that?

“So now I’m looking forward to a lecture from my advisors about the foolishness of my actions at the banquet. How wrong I was to turn down that ugly, disgusting excuse for a man Farrell. How I might have ruined the peace between our cultures because of my provoked and unthinking outburst when I should have clamped down my tongue. When truly, if people were any sort of right in their minds, especially Farrell, he would accept his humiliation. And if my people cared as much for me as they claim, you would expect that they’d accept my decision and not condemn it.” The tears welled her eyes. Her chin dropped and she pressed her thumb and forefinger into the corners of her eyes.

“It’s like… I’m disentitled to make decisions that would… would benefit me. I don’t… don’t own anything. If there was… was ever a rebellion, I’d be out w-with nothing. The palace doesn’t b-belong to me. It belongs to who- whoever Onderon’s leader is. My life is… is at the minds of th-the people. I just want… want something to be mine.”

She cried, not able to restrain her sudden sob or the tears. Her hand flattened out across her eyes as if to hide them, just as she’d learned. Her knees came up slightly and her arms were sucked against her body, one wrapped around her middle. Yet her center still gnawed for protection or some satisfaction it was not receiving.

“Just for once…”

[Meira]

Rook settled his arms on his knees, which were bend before him. His hands came together, clasping at the fingers. This was a safer position. With arms committed like this, he was less likely to do something foolish. Less likely, but the possibility always remained. Especially when he was near Sali.

She spoke, and at first her words were a kind dismissal of his apology. He breathed a bit easier, detecting a sincerity in her voice at least. Perhaps she wasn't so disappointed in his staying after all. But as the ire surfaced in her words, as her eyes went stony, Rook's brow furrowed. He'd never seen her this way. Well, he'd seen her anger at Farrell, but this was different.

When she threw the pebbles, Rook's head cocked back, almost in disbelief. But she continued on her tangent. It was a frustration he knew well, but all the same, did not know at all. He too had advisers and others constantly about him, hoping to help him with something, or to do that something for him. What he was not familiar with, was that sense of fragility. He was a man. Men did things that might get them scratched up, bruised, and possibly broken. He went hunting, grappled with companions, the like. Of course, his more dangerous hobbies were now forbidden to him. Rook doubted he'd ever pilot a swoop racer again, but this feeling like none would let him move for fear of him hurting himself, he was not familiar with this.

When she raised her fist, Rook did his best to stiffle the chuckle that came up in his throat. The anger in her eyes was far more intimidating than the tiny fist she presented to him. She was right, of course... to an extent. He believed she was exagerating slightly though. Rook doubted he'd be much loved as a leader who reacted solely out of anger. He hoped the people admired his attempts at ruling with a level head. If anything, a lack of emotion is what he felt was most approved in a ruler. But he suspected that if an emotion were to be shown, anger would be the most accepted, if nothing else than for fear of the angry ruler.

As her tirade turned to the matter of Farrell's proposal and the flak she expected to receive for rejecting him, Rook's eyes turned back to his hands. He didn't want her to see the smile that jumped to his lips. He felt sorry for her, of course, for the pain that proposal had caused her, and would likely continue to cause her. But the part of him that was overjoyed that she had said no was a strong part, if not entirely conscious. But then her voice began to falter, and when Rook's eyes lifted again, they found the queen in tears.

He froze for a moment as she stammered out her fear. To be dethroned, rejected by the people because of her decision. Rook didn't want to let himself believe that people were capable of such ignorance. But the galaxy was full of wonders, and a good portion of them were the things that people could do, good or bad.

When her tears began to fall in earnest, Rook moved without thinking. He did that a lot around Sali. She moved, he moved. It was as if his instincts knew best. Perhaps they did. He turned, one arm draping across Sali's shoulders, the other across her front to take her face lightly in his palm. With her thus encircled in his arms, he pulled her close until her head could rest against his chest. Lighly, he leaned his chip against her head, his face now haf burried in her hair.

Shh... He soothed, giving her frame a firm, but gentle squeeze. Sali, it's... it's alright. Your people love you. How could they not? And as far as what is yours...

He broke off there. For once, his mind had been able to stop his tongue before the rest came out. It was true, of course, as all the things he'd unthinkingly told her. But he feared the words. He feared them as much as he feared the memory of the Golden Coast. He didn't want that again. He needed to reign in his impulses before they led to another unhappy parting. But the words were still there, on the tip of his tongue. I am yours.