Timothy
"You misunderstood"

*She simply whispers, with a sigh*

"I know just as well that the royal families reputation is important to uphold, and even the slightest damage is self sabotage. 
I was not intending it to be a public letter, instead hoping their respect for you is enough to cause introspection. 
Your suggestion however, I just as valid, if not better. 
I have once again underestimated your willingness to put yourself in the line of fire. 
If you would personally see to making my grandparents recognize me and give me the political freedom I need, I am more than willing to have you" 

*Her demeanor changes. New opportunities are opening themselves up in front of her. 
She sits up straight, and reaches for the turquoise gemstone, inlaid into her necklace. And with a click has it release from its clasp. 
With her palm she turns it, and fidgets with it, while speaking*

"I don't know how else to say it, but I envy your position. 
It occurred to me during the ceremony, but you and I, are very different. 
I was raised a commoner for 160 years. 
You were raised to be a king for a third of that. 
Naturally, you know more. Have more experiences. Are known by more...
And I'm still oblivious to so much"

*She trails off, and goes quiet, looking at the gemstone more so than the king in front of her*

"I despise the scheming of my grandmother. 
I want to be open, and confront her and be honest. 
But she's forcing me to use her own ways against her."

*With a quick gesture the gem is back in its place and she reestablishes eye contact*

"Naturally, I expect you to be aware, but what I told you tonight are my perceptions. 
Its quite possible that being confronted by them from this angle will surprise and alienate them from listening. 
So I will warn you to approach the topic carefully, and with caution. 
As confident as I am I have to acknowledge the faint possibility that I have manufactured the situation to be more dire than it truly is."
Eddie
*Ah. A misunderstanding. She wanted him to write them personally, which was... Less damaging to the public reputation of Findara. It still was a poor substitute for the practice of being present, in his opinion - the tone of a latter was a much different matter than the tone of a voice, and each had its particular subtleties to navigate. The better option, though, was to ensure that he could take in the greatest range of information about this particular topic that he possibly could - and see for himself how far the mighty had fallen in the kingdom of Findara.*

"As I said, Princess." *His response was a steady and firm thing, the voice of the man like a drumbeat or a low string tone.* "Lesser matters will wait until friends are attended to. Your grandfather happens to be a man I consider a friend, just as Findara and Alynthi have remained not just allies, but friends in word and deed. You need only alert me to whatever is happening in order to requisition my aid, and this matter is like any other." *He bit his lower lip briefly, considering how to word the advice he was about to give.*

"I... Also do not believe you would doubt my willingness to put myself on the line for an ally had you left Findara for a small while. Reputations are most useful at court, especially when they are earned on the battlefield. It grants a modicum of respect from everyone but curs and sour older veterans, and while the former are not worth bothering with, the latter can be won over with proof that you *Are* What men say about you. Your actions will dictate it eventually."

*But the next part of her talk caught him off guard. She was... Jealous? Jealous of what? Reputations were fine, he thought to himself, but no one talked about the cost one had to incur for them. He had waded through more blood in one battle than she had likely ever seen, watched his men torn apart in front of him and fighting desperately for survival. Lost friends. Even in a victory, there was no perfection.*

_ _
*Though his instinct was to become irritated once more, he forced it down, and responded in a more rational manner than his first instinct would have demanded. He needed to keep control at all times. His eyes fell on the gemstone that she held so carefully, as if it was a golden egg that would someday hatch.* "Princess..." *He sighed, running a hand through his hair until it stopped on the crown.*

"Being known is a double-edged sword. My time at war has garnered me recognition, yes - but I was at war since I was a boy of fourteen years. I was raised to rule, yes, but there was precious little time for the important lessons when I was fighting for my life every battle for half my time on this earth. It is I who should envy you. You have lived a lifetime's worth of experience, all without war and death as constant companions. At times..." *His voice lowered to nearly a whisper.* "At times, they are all one tends to think about. I expect that will fade somewhat over the rest of my life, but each battle is a fresh wound."

*He regained his composure for the moment slowly, drawing in breath as he considered his options.* "At any rate, I would expect the honesty to be a very favorable trait of yours, Princess. I am not much in the habit of enjoying he company of liars and spies. I will have as much caution as possible with him and your grandmother, as the matter at hand is somewhat delicate. And..."

"As a final matter, Princess, may I ask what that gemstone means to you?" *He met her eyes with the curiosity of a natural scientist, simple in a way - a question asked, and an answer to find.*
Timothy
"I have experience, yes. The experience of a weaver, who works with her hands, and that of a midwife who listens for gossip and knows when to pass it on and to trade it for details that do nothing but entertain the neighbors. I don't envy what you've lost. I envy what you've gained. Call me cynical all you want, but my grandparents passing quietly in their sleep tomorrow would make this entire ordeal a cakewalk. 
And I know it's you I'm telling this. 
But in the words of the only man I ever recognized as worthy of my respect, 'it's better to have loved and lost, than never loved at all'
They might be related to me, bound to me by blood. 
But they might as well be strangers. And by the way they are treating me, they consider me one just as well."

*She goes quiet. A finger running over her small gemstone. 
And she once again pops open the clasp, and lets it fall into her hand. 
With a small fling of her wrist she tosses it into the air, and at the zenith of its trajectory, it stops. 
Floating there, in place. 
With the thumb and pinkie of her left hand, she pinches the tip, and pulls, and the entirety of what appeared to be a gemstone unravels into tiny blue lines. 
At first gibberish, but soon it reveals itself to be a blueprint of some kind. 
Not a blueprint of anything even remotely mechanical, but magical nature instead. 
She reaches inside the projection, pulls on one of the strings, and like a guitar string, it vibrates as she lets it go. 
Above her shoulder, a blue disk appears, hovering an inch away from her skin. 
No doubt a protective layer that would block a blow aimed at her shoulder.*

"Its a matrix of all the abjuration spells I've cast on myself. A web of connections. 6 years of work. 
There are enough small enchantments here, to have a coordinated squad of soldiers beat on me for 12 hours without break, and still have a handful of spells left to guard my vital organs. 
But each of them, a precisely coded spell. A weapon I haven't considered attacking me, might pierce through like there was nothing there at all. 
A blade disguised as a pen, might for all I know pierce every single layer and then my skin. 
A spell is still deadly in most circumstances, especially because i cannot guard myself against only 'fire' it has to be a fiery blade, or a fireball, or an explosion that I protect myself from. Any other element the same. Someone using a root to pierce me, is for the spells purpose different than a stick. 
Any creativity on my enemies part I didn't anticipate can be my end.
This 'gemstone' means more to me than anything else in the world" 

*And having shared her most intimate secret, the blueprint shifts away, and its placed back in her necklace*

"Don't get any ideas. Its only a record of the spells. Losing it would simply mean I have no means of tracking which enchantments are on my person already. I would still be protected" 

*Her tone has shift dramatically. Once again returning to cold and demeaning. For a few moments she even sounded like her grandmother. 
And there was no doubt, that divulging all the layers of protection she had was presented as a sign of trust. That he would not abuse it. And that she trusted him enough to share it. Considering she had just offended his way of life, what little family meant to her, it might even be considered a way of making that up to him.
Though her gaze had hardened. Her mouth still. Her features as elvenly alien as they could be*
Eddie
*That was more concerning than he had thought. In the moment, all he was reminded of was Delsandra - those eyes burning with madness, the hunger for power clearly evident in them, the cold callousness of a woman who cared little for the lives of those around her shining through. Her words mirrored Sierra's. Those were not the words of a cynic. 

They were the words of a monster - loyal only to her own goals. 'I envy what you've gained'. Power, that was what Sierra wanted. It was sickening - who says that? Who in their right mind would wish death on their family, or imprison them? And for power? Perhaps she thought that he was now loyal to her entirely, or that the man standing in front of her was someone less grounded in the belief that power should not be lusted after, or that one should not wish death on their family, even if they were getting along poorly. 

The world had gone mad, and he could do little to stop it. Was this how a family treated each other in Findara, of all places? A stable kingdom ruled by what he had thought was a wise man? Disgusting. And this was the woman he was supposed to call 'princess', 'queen' and 'ally'. Who spoke of slaying her kin to make her coronation flow easier. His lip curled in sheer displeasure and revilement as she spoke regarding her grandparents, and he hid little of his disdain for the words that had exited her mouth.

It was all he could take to avoid unveiling his fury and simply expelling her from the room immediately, but that would have been an unfortunate mistake that he would have regretted later. Will against heart, the battle raged within him. How was he to stand there and not make an objection? Yet how was he to say anything without alienating her entirely?

The worst part of the matter was that he **Could not** Ignore her claims that she was being imprisoned. Duty called him to help, and duty was the greatest aspiration of King Astalios. He could not cast it aside in favor of a personal dislike.*

_ _
*And now she showed him the gemstone. Perhaps it was a memory, a keepsake - but no, she was simply showing him her wards. He memorized the parameters - they did not protect against spells, for the most part, but they were effective against blades. Perhaps the words 'A flood of mercury' did not enter into her imagination. Not many people in the world imagined it until they drowned in the substance. 

Any semblance of emotional closeness between them was shattered now as he surveyed her, baffled that she would consider that more than a gesture of trust. What further was there to be gained by showing her defenses? A picture might have been more endearing and more telling of something she held dear, rather than the cold and factual matter of wards. What was she, he wondered, that she was convinced this would be some sort of effective gesture? Did a heart not beat inside her?

But that was secondary to aiding her, and begrudgingly, he finally nodded his head.* "It seems, Princess, that we are quite different people." *He had tried to hold back the venom from his voice, and forge it into passion. Most of the bite was taken out of it.*

"I do not believe you are a cynic, Princess. I believe you hold... Beliefs that I would consider misguided about family. Blood is its own bond, and it should be treated as such. That does not only go for children about their parents - it should work both ways. And *Both* Of you, you and your grandparents, have violated that bond. They in mistreating you... And you in wishing that they might die in their sleep conveniently so that you might ascend the throne. I... Can understand why you might not place such a high value on family, but one day, when you create your own, you will know what fire your heart ignites as those of your blood are in danger."

*A long exhale as he tried to hold that fury together, to keep her from seeing it.* "I thank you for your trust. Please consider what it is you wish for carefully."
Timothy
*Sierra saw his disdain for her words. She heard it. Hadn't lied when she said she had ear for gossip.
Her entire body deflated as the regret of what she had said washed over her*

"I merely stated it would make things easier. I would not genuinely wish death on anyone. 
If power and the throne was all I wanted, i could have attained it long ago. Compared to my defenses, my grandmother has a paper towel shielding her. 
I could have the power I wanted. With a hundred knifes pointed at my back, lasting all of 2 weeks. 

No, I'm no usurper, nor will I ever be. 
The reason I am so... Disdainful of this entire situation is a different reason entirely." 

*She finally has had enough of being the one sitting on the bench while the other looms over her. And gets up, circles astalios and begins stepping through the room as she speaks, the rhythm of her heels accentuating her words*

"You don't realize the pity you inspire in people. What perfect conditions you have taken the throne under. Even I, who barely feels a tinge in my chest at seeing neighbors be killed for missing tax money, shed tears watching you and your sister. You have the sympathy of the people. Because you have proven yourself, certainly, but because they empathize with your misfortune. I thought a coronation should be cause for celebration, but by making it a Tragedy, you've subverted expectations so thoroughly, its an incredible play. The young prince, forced to the throne by necessity. 
No one would ever accuse you of power hunger."

"Now look at me. 
A person, who no-one knows. I was discovered in Khisfire 6 years ago. On accident. Conveniently. 
Then never again seen by the public. Kept isolated, and unable to form any meaningful political relationships. 
I have so far met none of the ministers that I will be working with in a months time. 
When, if even, I take the throne. I will need to prove myself. 
And it doesn't help that I intend to betray the intentions of my grandmother.

As you said, i am set up for failure. Tenfold."

*She stops her nervous walk, and returns to center. A deep breath, and her hands are back to resting on her stomach*

"You talk of family. Of creating my own. 
But even there I have little choice. I must find a high elf man who is around my age, who I can have an offspring with. 
He will need qualifications, to be a ruler. Preferably be of noble blood in the first place. That pool is incredibly narrow. 
I wish to have a family yes, and having a husband would solidify my position, and give me someone to fall back on. 
Not to mention that I am the last of my line, unless my mother decides to run away with another commoner. 

I wish... For simplicity. 

To marry who I wish. To ascend the throne well prepared. To know where I stand. 
But we rarely get our wishes do we... No, I chose to sacrifice that simplicity when I accepted the offer to come with my grandparents 6 years ago. 
And I could not go back, if I wanted to.

The sooner you can talk to my grandparents, and the sooner **We** Can convince them of the error of their ways the better. 
Don't mistake my words for affronts. I want to have you as an ally, and prove myself worthy of that honor. I want to aid you in the hundreds of things troubling you just as much. 
But I will not have an opportunity to do so, if I stand on shaky ground. As you well know" 

*She finishes with a heavy exhale, obviously exhausted from the heavy talking subjects*

"What im saying is... I need to take drastic measures. 
Like talking to you today. Against the express wishes of my grandmother.
And I could not be happier defying her"
Eddie
*The quiet disdain morphed into open fury as she spoke, outlining him as some sort of mastermind making a play. The prince forced into the throne by necessity. No one would ever accuse him of being power hungry, would they? It was a play for sympathy? **The death of his father was a play?** The bubbling rage that had simmered under the iron lid of will threatened to boil over as the gold and silver tiles of the room's mosaics began to morph and twist, rippling and undulating like the scales of some sleeping beast, spikes of gold and silver raising from the floor as if the room itself rejected what was being said within.

The crown on his head began to morph and twist, spikes in shattering masses beginning to fracture into spines of their own, a monstrous visage to the prince's head at that moment. Had he been wearing his armor, the transformation might have been more apparent, but he was a moment from flying off his leash and simply removing her head from where she stood. The pain that he had forced down, the tears he had kept back, the deep wound of losing his father, the man that had raised him and loved him and sired him, mocked as a clever political play by this heartless... **Thing** That paced the room before him.

He clasped his hands together, the knuckles whitening as they bound themselves tightly to prevent any rash action while he spoke. There was no room for error in this situation, not with such a white hot wrath as was boiling within him.*

"You will ***Never***," *He stated quietly, teeth clenched tightly against each other, grinding themselves into his palate as he beheld the sheer disrespect and audacity of Sierra Seey, a monster pretending to be a woman of some stature.* "Imply that the death of my father was in any way positive again. I would sooner carve my own heart from my chest than ascend the throne in such circumstances, and the fact that you possess the ***Gall*** To tell me that I am making some sort of *Perfect play* Is despicable."

*Ally. She **Dared** To imply that they could ever be allies or friends after her manner of speech to him today? It was as if she was shoving a dagger deeper and deeper into his gut, twisting it with more and more unhinged, callous statements that would throw any man off the precipice of rage.*

"You speak as though your predicaments are unique." *He hissed, teeth still clenched in anger at the sheer disrespect. If she were a knight, he might duel her on the spot.* "Tell me of how hard it is to be forced to marry someone you do not love once again, Sierra. You are not the only one who wishes to find someone to truly love. But it is our duty. Leadership is not a boon and a right, something to be reveled in. It is a responsibility, full of the burdens that come with it, and both you and I will need to deal with them."

*He drew in breath and let it go, trying desperately to hold on to his self-control as she flaunted the fucking habits she had of trying to circumvent what was respectful.* "I do not ***Mistake*** Your words. They are ***Unmistakable***." *At this final point of her conversation, his voice was shaking with the pure anger that colored his voice, a red haze that had come over his vision as she continued to spew her affronts.*

"If you wanted to have me as an ally, Princess, you might start by ***Never implying in any way - or even acknowledging the possibility - that I have somehow orchestrated the situation around my father's death in order to gain sympathy***." *Those words escaped him in a hateful snarl, the vitriol no longer hidden.*

"Now, I fulfill my word to you in acknowledgement that I gave you a promise to aid you. I sincerely hope that we do not have a conversation such as this again. I will argue on your damned behalf. I am a man of my word." *And that ended it. Regardless of how hateful she was, he would hold to his agreements, keep to his contracts. Alynthi needed stability, and rage was not stable.*
Timothy
*The very moment the first piece of metal deformed, Sierra held out her hands, and cast a spell. A blue, ethereal bubble formed around the princess, and with it in place, she prepared to cast a spell in return should he ever seriously endanger her. 

Her expression changed completely, at first gritting her teeth in preparation for an impact, but as he kept talking, she turned into cornered animal. 
From casual conversation, to life or death moment. 

She dismissed the ward she had put in place earlier. 
If anyone had intended to watch through divination, this they would now see. 

Even after he calmed down, she maintained the barrier, and was ready to counterattack, or counteract whatever attack he might fling. 
Only when he reminded her, or attempted to, that he was still on her side, did she 'relax'. Her hair was wild, and in the turmoil had become messy. But she failed to notice. 
Her gaze betrayed what was going through her head. She was looking at him with the eyes of a maniac. Who could not believe what they were seeing.
Finally, after a painfully long pause, she replied*

"I have reconsidered. 
I'd rather face my grandparents alone, than let you in my kingdoms walls."

*She did not wait for a response. She turned on her heel, and made to leave the room.*
Eddie
*Astalios's eyes had remained fixed on her throughout, as if the spell barrier was nonexistent, a flimsy film of paper or a fan between them instead of a magical ward that could not be ignored. She at least did not reply with arguments back, to tell him that his feelings on the matter were wrong, that he should be glad the king was dead, that he didn't need him anyway. 

What a crock of horse dung that she had peddled. And she had shoved it in his face as if she thought it was wisdom. This, he knew, was a tragedy for the long-standing alliance. He wondered if Sarven knew what an inhuman person was pretending to have a heart in the form of his granddaughter.*

"Go, then. But reconsider only this - ***I am not the monster in this room.***" *He stated, force of speech and personality stamping the words into reality with a deep, powerful tone.* "I loved. I lost. And you implied I played it for my own gain. Would you consider that anger an unreasonable state of mind, Princess?"

*The words were not as completely vitriolic as the previous rage, but they referenced back the words she had spoken, from 'the only man she had ever recognized worthy of respect'.* "If you do not understand, then you have never truly loved at all." 

*For there was more than just indignation and rage behind every word - what made them so passionate, so powerful within his mind was pain and loss, the ache of missing the man that had raised him, who had taught him the sword in the courtyard, whose crown he had once accidentally turned to lead. That same crown he now wore, disfigured by the anger of a king mourning the loss. This was, for the first time in so very long, a valve leaking what he kept hidden into the world at large.

A tear welled up in his eye, and then another and another, until his reddened eyes were streaming clear water down his face. The grief he felt was not public, but it could be felt in private here as he let himself sit down on the cushioned chair, head in his hands.*

_ _
*He did not listen to the steps of Sierra as she walked away, but flattened the tiles back down under her feet so that she would not hurt herself, and let the anger of mockery turn to the true sadness of what he had been experiencing, and was now private. 

In heaving sobs, he began to cry in earnest, black cloak falling over his knees and exposing the white underneath as the wreath of the crown returned to its normal shape as well, the branching spines consolidating into the telltale antler-style spiked ring. His chest raised and fell with every cry, the agony of losing his father extracting sorrow from him that he wished he could share with his mother and sister. 

But he had to be strong. Could not show to the world that he was weakened by the events of the coronation, could not stop to mourn for his father without leaving the kingdom to ruin. Could not feel what he felt without inviting attack. And for that matter, he had just made his own situation worse - Findara was such a necessary ally if the world was to remain somewhat unconquered by the slavers of the north and west and east and...

Everyone, really. Even Thyseer was now a question mark with Delsandra's mad captaincy. 

He wept for what had been said, for what he could not say. And stayed in the narthex long after Sierra had left the room.*
Timothy
*"I would consider it unreasonable, yes"*

*She thought to herself as his words echoed behind her*

*"You might think you are not the monster in this room. But we very well may both be. And you are right. I haven't loved"*

*But she does not speak anything aloud. Before stepping out of the room, she makes sure she looks at least presentable, fixing her hair, relaxing her deeply furrowed forehead. 
And placing her hands back on her stomach. 

Until finally she leaves the king to his emotional prison. 
Sierra at least does him the mercy of deflecting any questions, and mentioning he needs a moment to think, though the more savvy and perceptive might notice how troubled she was under the facade. 
Specifically how she was tapping her heel against the ground nervously whenever she stopped walking. 

Finally, quickly, however one calls it, she manages to find her way out of the ball room, and to the