mirror image AU

[eiattu_pride]

He's been back - really back, Rogues gone, re-involved with the court back - for just over a week now. Already he's been spending too much time by the window, thinking about the stars and the people he's grown up with, too much time wondering if he's made the right decision. So you'll forgive him if he's up early this morning, face set in a slight frown that's pretty much second nature to him now, drinking from a mug of mostly caf.

The not-quite-caf bit may or may not be good whiskey, but no one needs to know that. He's got a state dinner tonight. He's allowed.

Comments

[fighting_mad]

The rap at the door ought to be familiar, by now; firm, but respectful, and quiet at this hour of the morning.

[eiattu_pride]

It should be. It is, and he gets up, padding to the door to touch the keypad, sliding it open.

"Yes?"

[fighting_mad]

Countess Isplourrdacartha Estillo stands in the doorway, wearing a simple, fitted jumpsuit in browns and cream, long red braid flipped over her shoulder and a datapad in her hand.

She opens her mo--

He isn't wearing a tunic.

He isn't wearing a tunic and his chest and stomach and arms are rock-hard and heavily muscled, and she can see old scars dotted here and there--

Isplourrdacartha swallows. "My prince," she says, with the slightest of bows, her eyes firmly on his face. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to wake you."

[eiattu_pride]

"You didn't," he says, maybe too curt, but that's the way it comes out. "Countess."

There's something of an awkward pause as something that feels suspiciously like guilt for his greeting stirs inside him, before he clears his throat and motions inside.

"Would you care to come in? I'll be just a moment."

[fighting_mad]

She determinedly does not flinch at the initial sharpness of his tone. "Certainly," she says, ignoring the subtle stares of the two guards as she steps through the door. It hisses closed on them, leaving her and Rial--the prince, she reminds herself, call him the prince--together in the short hallway.

Isplourrdacartha clears her throat. "You don't have to hurry," she says. "There isn't anything on your docket for the next few hours."

[eiattu_pride]

Rial vanishes into the small bedroom to change, voice floating out from behind that closed door.

"Just thought you'd drop in?"

The tone is a little nicer. A little distracted, but. Nicer. The room Plourr's in is fairly bare, though, no decorations...just a chair, a table, and a small holoprojecter.

[fighting_mad]

"I thought I would see if you wanted to take a ride," she calls, watching a wall studiously. "It's supposed to be cooler on the plains today."

She knows that he enjoys the thrill, the ride, the escape, at least as much as she does.

And it affords her the rare chance to speak with him outside of the crushing confines of the palace.

[eiattu_pride]

There's another long pause, and then the door opens again. He's fully dressed, this time, boots in hand.

"I've some time before I have to be anywhere. I'd like that."

[fighting_mad]

Her smile flashes, quick and self-assured and warm, before she brings it back under control. "I'd hoped you might, my prince. They will be ready for us in the stables."

[eiattu_pride]

The boots get pulled on, a vibroblade slipped into a concealed sheath at his belt just in case.

"You've planned this, Countess. And if I'd said no?"

[fighting_mad]

"Then I would have gone alone," she says. "But I know how you like to ride, so--" She smiles up at him. "I took a gamble."

[eiattu_pride]

"Intelligent."

It's a compliment. He moves to the door, keys it open, and stands to one side in a silent offer for her to go first.

[fighting_mad]

It is a compliment, if not a return smile. Of course, she wasn't expecting the latter.

Isplourrdacartha ducks her head, a little, as she passes him, though by the time he joins her in the corridor, her chin is held high again.

"Your first obligation is at 11:40," she says, to fill the silence. "The governor of Nental has an audience and is going to ask for a higher transportation budget. It's the sort of thing that ought to go through lower channels, but he has connections high within the Priamsta." Her lower lip curls.

[eiattu_pride]

Rial mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously profane, and then glances sideways at her.

"All he wants is more money that he can make sure finds its way eventually into the pockets of him and his friends. No. I'll make up a reason. After that?"

[fighting_mad]

They're walking down the empty, silent corridor now, Isplourrdacartha gracefully winding her scarf more securely around her neck. "Report on the damage to the Citadel at 1230, audience with a group of local merchants at 0100, and a meeting with the royal treasury committee, that is sure to take hours, at 0215."

She glances at him. "They're trying to discern how much of the treasury Tavira made off with."

[eiattu_pride]

This time the swearing is louder, and Rial hunches his shoulders, unconciously speeding up the pace.

"Too much. Think they'd notice if I went missing?"

[fighting_mad]

One side of her mouth lifts, and she points out, "You are in charge, my prince." She glances over, sweeping red bangs out of her eyes. "I think your absence would be noticed."

[eiattu_pride]

"Unfortunately."

He's silent, then, lost in his own thoughts. He was a little chatterbox when he was a kid, it's true, just...not so much now.

[fighting_mad]

Isplourrdacartha shoots a sidelong look at him, through the corner of her eye -- and then her lips turn upward again.

"You're growing your hair," she says, as they start down the stairs.

[eiattu_pride]

Some people talk because they don't like the feeling of silence. Rial doesn't mind silence at all, but it seems he gets talked at a lot these days.

"Yes," he says.





A few moments later, not really knowing why, he elaborates. "It's not really the style, to have it short."

[fighting_mad]

"I know," she says, and she's smiling to herself, remembering -- 'Y'r hair's too short.'

It's impossible to say what he's thinking or whether or not he even hears her, most of the time.

But maybe, just maybe, he does listen.

[eiattu_pride]

Maybe he does. Even if he doesn't show it, he still listens and thinks over what she says to him.

"Yes," he says again, almost awkward. Maybe.

[fighting_mad]

She stops on the landing, turning back toward him, and--unusually forward--she reaches up and runs her fingers through his short hair.

It's one stroke, relatively quick, but it is nowhere near as innocent as it was when she would ruffle his hair, years ago.

"It looks nice on you," she tells him, and there's a smile in her voice.

[eiattu_pride]

Rial's not exactly sure what to do. He pauses, for a moment, mind calmly sorting through what's just happened and how he should react.

And while it does that, his mind takes over, the one used to jokes and laughter with the Rogues.

"I think I've grown a bit, Countess."

[fighting_mad]

Her smile comes immediate, bright and pleased and surprised.

He made a joke.

"Only a little," she says, still beaming up at him in approval. "A millimeter or two at most."

(Her fingers flutter at her sides, but she refuses to allow them to rise to run through his hair again.)

[eiattu_pride]

The proper mind (the one that says this is a mission and gives him the protocol he needs to stand) kicks in about then, and the smile vanishes. He's not scowling, exactly, but he's not smiling neither.

"More then that, I think," he says, and indicates the door in front of them. "My lady."

[fighting_mad]

Her smile fades slowly. "Of course. " She ducks her head and slips past him.

'My prince' has become something of a term of affection (and something possessive, too), but she hears nothing but polite deferral in 'my lady.'

She doesn't wait for him, like she ordinarily does so that she can fall into step beside him, give him whatever information that he needs.

She just keeps going down the next flight of stairs, and out through the door at the bottom.

[eiattu_pride]

Rial has the uncomfortable feeling that he's done something wrong. It takes up residence in his belly, and makes him hurry as he follows her, half-running through the door into the courtyard.

"Isplourr," he says, awkward again and hating it, unsure. "I apologize."

[fighting_mad]

She has her game face on again by the time he reaches the bottom of the stairs, and as he ducks outside, she looks up, ready with a comment about how beautiful the sky is so early (and it is, with just the slightest hint of a morning chill).

But he surprises her.

He's hurrying after her; he's apologizing. And--

"You didn't call me Countess," she says wonderingly, and her smile is soft enough that it's safe to guess that he has been forgiven. Not only that, but he didn't call her Isplourrdacartha, either. "You could do that more often, you know. I'd like it."

[eiattu_pride]

Now this is just awkward. Rial's not sure how to respond to that, a very faint flush creeping up his face as he hesitates and tries to formulate a response that isn't rude. It's just. She's the Countess Isplourrdacartha, he should refer to her by her proper title because that's the right thing to do. Isplourr's a nickname, and a childish one at that.

So he stands, and hesitates, and finally turns away to study the sky.

"It's a nice morning."

[fighting_mad]

Something settles in her face.

Isplourrdacartha's expression is implacable as she clasps her hands in the small of her back. "It is, Your Highness."

[eiattu_pride]

Rial nods, hesitates one more step, and then turns to set off for the stables, fast.

That was...uncomfortable.

[fighting_mad]

She's at his shoulder, walking just behind, keeping up easily and appearing perfectly comfortable with the situation.

[eiattu_pride]

They're at the stables soon, and Rial holds the door open for her, the perfect gentleman.

There's even a silent bow.

[fighting_mad]

She inclines her head graciously and steps past him, through the door.

Once she's through, though, she's turning, biting her lower lip, and she says, "Rial--"

[eiattu_pride]

Rial hesitates, halfway through the dor, and raises on eyebrow.

"My lady?"

[fighting_mad]

"Would you-- a moment of your time?" She gestures to a pair of hay bales, tucked off to one side of the barn.

[eiattu_pride]

"Of course." He steps over to the hay, out of the way, mostly invisible to anyone who would happen to pass through.

And then waits, of course.

[fighting_mad]

"Sit with me?" she asks, taking a seat on a bale and looking up at him.

[eiattu_pride]

He takes a seat next to her, folds his hands in his lap, silent. This has all the hallmarks of a Talk, and he's not exactly looking forward to it.

[fighting_mad]

"I do not know where we stand, Prince," she says quietly, turning a piece of straw between her fingers. "I believe that I have made it clear how I feel about you. I do know that you do not reciprocate those feelings."

That doesn't stop her from a split second's pause, though, hoping against all hope that he'll tell her she's wrong. She hates herself for it.

"What I am trying to say is that you are free to do as you will, Highness," she says, finally glancing up at him. "I want to make it clear: I will not hold you to some agreement that our parents made when we were children. You are not tied to me."

[eiattu_pride]

Oh.

Oh. Well then. Something he'd been expecting for a time, so that's okay then. Something to respond to the way he'd planned (except) something to respond to with dignity, being careful with her feelings (except he wants something else), something to respond to gently (except he wants to say no).

"Countess," he starts, and his voice should give her a clue as to how many thoughts are running through his head. It's hesitant, unsure, like he doesn't quite know how to phrase his ideas.

"Countess, I - oh, kriff it." And with that, he leans forward, turns to her, placing his hands on either side of her face and leaning forward to kiss her gently, momentarily, sweetly as a husband to his wife.

But in the end he pulls back and shakes his head, looking away.

"I'm sorry."

[fighting_mad]

Her eyes widen and a sharp thrill runs through her as she sees him lean in, as he touches her cheeks, and then his lips brush hers and her eyes flutter closed and she kisses him back, soft and sweet and a little clumsy. She hadn't allowed herself to imagine that he would kiss her, that he would want her-- There's love, in her kiss, and the astonished joy beginning to fill her chest and make it feel as though her heart may burst --

She doesn't register that he has pulled away, for a moment, and she leans after him an inch or two. But he doesn't kiss her waiting lips again, and his callused hands are no longer cupping her face, and her eyes snap open.

Isplourrdacartha stares at him for a long moment, stricken, the color high in her cheeks swiftly fading. Then she sits up straight and shoots a determined look--determined not to cry, not to show anything unbecoming--at her left boot.

"Yes, Your Highness." She rises, brushing hay from herself. "This will not affect anything, Your Highness. You will still have my counsel, if you wish it."

[eiattu_pride]

He rises as well, but turns in the other direction, towards the stable doors. There's guilt twisting a knot into the pit of his stomach, because he's gone and kissed a woman he doesn't love, a woman who loves him, and doesn't that mean he's just the worst kind of person ever? Because maybe, for a second there, she thought that it meant something it didn't.

"If you will excuse me, Countess." He offers her a bow, eyes quiet, face unreadable. "I should return to my quarters. There is much to be done today."

[fighting_mad]

She inclines her head, the picture of gracious dignity.

Even if the split second's pause before the nod gave her away.

"Of course," she says, and she curtseys, low and deferential, without a skirt. "Your Highness."

[eiattu_pride]

Rial turns to go, a murmured "My lady" hanging in the air even as he sweeps away, head full of new and confusing thoughts.

Well.

That could've gone better.

[fighting_mad]

Isplourrdacartha looks over her shoulder, once, to be sure he's gone, and then she walks through the stables, steps slow and measured. Her thak waits eagerly in his stall, straining his neck over the door, and the countess smiles at him and feeds him the bits of bluefruit she'd saved from breakfast. Treats shared, she slips into the stall with a saddle, and she sets it atop the thak's broad back.

Halfway through tightening the cinch, her hands begin to shake. She tucks her forehead against the thak's shoulder and silently sobs, her arms around the beast's neck.

The thak worriedly noses her hair.