Heir to Him Whose Death She Owed [Pardes, Closed]

[Achesia]

Present Day...

Rhynovia…. the city that was the namesake of a province of the Empire of Velikoslavia ruled over by princes of a branch of the royal line of Emperors since the 11th Century. The city was built at the mouth of the Rhy River which ran north to inland seas and rich fertile farmland. Princes and Princesses had ruled over this land for thousands of years as their people prospered and grew. At the dawn of the 17th Century when the Empire fell, Rhynovia was the last echo of Velikoslavia to live on and prosper, reigning over the lands south of the Nekulturnyan mountains for centuries to come. The city of Rhynovia continued to grow over time as its deep water port was the entryway for many goods coming from the east and its beautiful waterways making it a stunningly romantic city.

Only in the dark times of the early 20th Century as poverty grasped the people of Rhynovia and the Red Revolution found itself at the gates of the majestic city did Rhynovia fall into decay. But now, as the bells tolled over the Victorian architecture and the streets were mantled with Rhynovian Orange, White, and Green did the city begin to shine once more… because the Grand Duchess had returned to it.

At the heart of the city sat acres of green lawn and trimmed trees, statues of Princes restored since their destruction under the communists and white stone driveways leading to a grey palace of immense scale. The Grey Palace has been the seat of the Aristov family since the 16th Century, a complex of Victorian buildings and hundreds of rooms of various purpose. Under the new monarchy formed in 2005 the Grey Palace became the seat of the government as the residence of the Lord Governor and the massive hall that houses the Assembly of Ranks. But it did not return to its true purpose until 2016 when the Grand Duchess Karina was found and brought home to fulfil her destiny as the last Aristov heir to the crown.

She was 16 at the time of her finding, and while the government still had yet to release details of where she had been hidden up until this time, the people of Rhynovia had forgotten such questions as today was the Grand Duchesses 18th birthday. While celebrations specific to her turning 18 had been postponed, thousands from across Rhynovia and the world descended on the Grey Palace to bring forth a new chapter in the Grand Principality’s history today… the coronation of Grand Princess Karina the I.

While thousands stood on the lawn of the Grey Palace staring at large screens set up for subjects of Rhynovia to witness this event, a few hundred dignitaries of Rhynovia and from across the world gathered at the Cathedral of St. Michael the Orange just behind the main palace building to view the coronation first hand.

“Are you ready?” Grand Duke Emil Medved came behind Maria and placed a hand on her bare shoulder. The Lord Governor of Rhynovia had ruled as the interim head of state of the country since the new monarchy’s formation. However, he would be stepping down from that role today, as the young girl before him stepped up to claim her rightful crown and country. Emil was happily relinquishing this title, a burden the old man felt too heavy and grand for him. But as he swore on the first day he met the young royal come out of hiding, he would be with her to whatever end.

Maria took a deep breath in, holding it in until the last dire second as she peaked out the slit in the curtains at the thousands gathered on the lawn of the palace to watch her be crowned as their Princess. Was she ready? The wise answer to that would be no. While Maria did not see herself as wise, a touch of humility few normal 18-year-olds have, she had learned in the past 2 years since she had been brought to Rhynovia and learned of this fate that the responsibility of a nation lay on her shoulders that she better seek wisdom where she could find it. It was a burden still the thought of her running a country. It was a thought that she could not see herself bearing those 2 short years ago. Many times she woke up in cold sweats during the night as the nightmare of such power gripped her tightly.

Looking over at the Grand Duke she smiled, putting her own hand on his that lay on her shoulder as she stood there. Maria was dressed in a light pink gown with the circumference of the earth itself at her feet, a thought she had jested to the Grand Duke when she first saw it presented to her. At her tiny waist and to her shoulder she wore a sash with the colors of the Rhynovian flag, and at its peak the crest of the House of Aristov. Her brown hair was styled by the best in Rhynovia, flecked with glitter to make it sparkle as she entered the cathedral. But the one thing they could not highlight with any means of fashion were her brown eyes, their glistening that looked towards the Grand Duke was only natural as she stood there.

“How can I be ready?” She knew of all people in her life the father-like figure of Emil Medved she could truly express her feelings. She held back the tears for fear of her makeup streaking, but within herself she felt so afraid.

The Grand Duke smiled at Maria, holding her shoulder firmly despite the beautician behind him cringing as he smeared the makeup on her shoulder.

“The only time when faced with uncertain challenge that you know you are ready is when you fully understand that you cannot prepare of all uncertainty.” The Grand Duke often spoke in riddles that Maria wondered if only he could understand, yet strangely she sort of got the point he was trying to make.

Taking a shorter deep breath this time, the young girl smiled.
“Well then, I have only to dive in.” Her bravery and confidence always impressed the Grand Duke since the day they met, a girl very well composed despite the adversity that faced her. It sorrowed Emil’s heart to think that she might be this way because of the abuse she endured at Dunet’s hand.

A knock came to the door of the room just before it slid open. The guard letting in a man who was similarly dressed to the Grand Duke in ceremonial military garb with sashes and medals and honors. This man however who was much squarer of jaw and firm of flesh looked far more militaristic than the older Lord Governor.

“I have come to wish the Grand Duchess well.” The man bowed his head as he stated his intentions to the Lord Governor.

Emil’s lip turned upwards as his facial expression told the tale of his feelings towards the man before him. It was no secret he strongly disliked Duke Volodymyr the Defense Minister of Rhynovia. A man whose policies and methods were contrary to the Grand Duke’s. But while they did not see eye to eye, Emil knew that Alexi Volodymyr had Rhynovia and her people at heart. Thus, when the Assembly of Ranks suggested to the Grand Duchess he become defense minister, he left it to Maria to decide if he was the right choice.

“Very well.” The Grand Duke said in a cold manner turning towards the window, his back towards the Defense Minister.

Alexi approached Maria with a smile, his hands stretched forth as he took Maria’s palm into his and kissed the top of her hand.

“My lady, you look stunning. Never was and never will there be a more beautiful Princess of Rhynovia.”

The Lord Governor scoffed to himself. What empty words for those who knew the history of it, the only other female to have ruled over Rhynovia was Princess Anya the III and she was NOT a looker.

Maria knew little of the animosity between the Grand Duke and Duke. Only that Emil’s mood oft turned sour in his presence. The Lord Governor had been careful to not sell his personal feelings about others within the government to Maria, allowing her to form her own opinions of people and not burden her politics with the experiences of an old man. Unfortunately, this meant the silvered tongue Defense Minister was able to crawl his way into the trust of the future Princess, his military minded ideals ever in her ear.

As a girl of youth however she saw only a handsome man who had been an ex-special forces soldier with many connections as to effectively run her armed forces. And run them well as his organizational skills had set the Royal Armed Forces on a path towards total modernization, making Rhynovia’s military a force to be reckoned with.

“Thank you minister.” Maria smiled brightly as she let him kiss her hand. “I am honored to have a man such as yourself as my minister as I take on this great role.”

The Grand Duke was pleased as he had taught Maria much over two years about the pleasantries expected of her as Princess and how to woo the members of her court.

“The honor is mine, we will see the glory of Rhynovia restored together.” He bowed his head.

Emil turned around suddenly as to interrupt their pleasantries with a previous conversation the three of them has days ago. “So, you mean to go through with it?” The Grand Duke looked to Maria and the Minister.

Maria took a deep breath, knowing the Defense Minister's proposal did not meet the approval of the Lord Governor. Yet Maria trusted Duke Volodymyr, that his plan would see both the glory of Rhynovia restored and its strength apparent.

“Yes… I do.” She looked to Emil, no regret in her eyes.

“So, bet it.” Emil turned his head once more, shamed he could not talk her out of what he saw as a mistake.

At this time the door opened once more, and yet another man dressed in ceremonial garb stepped through the doorway. This one however was less decorated and plainer, yet as he entered the room Maria’s heart jumped. Kaptain Jae had been the harbinger of this new life in Rhynovia, as he led the investigation to find her and was ultimately the one to have carried her from Dunet’s grasp. Though getting to that point meant Jae had to do things that made Maria uncomfortable, so to this day when she saw the Grand Duke’s chief aide a certain tension filled her.

“Your grace, your eminences, it's time.” Jay looked at Maria standing there in her gown, a sight of angelic beauty. Yet Maria looked at Jay wide eyed, the feeling of his fingers around her throat in the street all those years ago. Jae’s eyes averted as he waited for the trio to make their way towards the cathedral.

---

Moments Later, In the Cathedral of St. Michael the Orange…

---

The nobility and dignitaries of the world had gathered. The stone cathedral with trimmings of dark Rhynovian Oak was decorated with flowers of all colors and banners of noble houses and Rhynovian royalty lining the rafters. Anthems of Rhynovia past and present were played on the organ as the patriarch of the Rhynovian Orthodox church prayed for the strength of a young girl who would lead a nation. And before the altar on which god looked down the choir of boys and girls sang praises in his name.

Suddenly the trumpets called out, their song echoing along the walls as all people rose to their feet in reverence. The rear doors to the cathedral opened, and thus began the march of fifty young girls, dressed in light pink as they threw flowers of orange, green, and white along the aisle of stone while stepping to the beat of “Royal on the Shore” played on the massive brass pipe organ.

Behind the troop of young maids came a troop of ceremonial guard, dressed in the black and green ceremonial garb of the Royal Territorial Army bearing against their shoulders pole-axes, the official national weapon of Rhynovia. They marched in two lines down the aisle, coming to the front pews where the Lord Governor and other ministers sat before they turned and faced, their unit flanking the aisle from the entrance to the altar.

Finally, the final momentous trumpet call, their sound all the louder as before the occupants of the cathedral stood the young Grand Duchess, in all the glory of the House of Aristov her beauty filled the temple before her. Taking a deep breath, the girl stepped between the ranks of her ceremonial guard, looking from side to side and smiling at the guests from around the world that had come to see her take this step. Behind her a group of young girls dressed in all colors of the Rhynovian flag held her train, and the organ music continued until she arrived at the altar where she took to both her knees and bowed her head in prayer.

“Please be seated.” The patriarch beckoned the guests to sit.

Then came what amounted to about 20 minutes of prayer and preaching, a true traditional Slavic service that seemed to go on for a time as the patriarch both spoke in English and Slavic. All the while the Grand Duchess sat upon her knees.

“And now, God has chosen unto us his master of our mortality, a girl brought back from death who he has christened to be the guardian of our nation.”

The patriarch pushed up the Grand Duchesses head, taking oil from a cup and using his thumb to spread it upon her brow as a blessing. From behind, a young boy carried a rather regal looking pillow of violet with gold trim, upon it the jeweled crown of Rhynovia in all its glory. The patriarch took it into his hands, raising it up high above the Grand Duchess’ head as he looked to heaven and said a long prayer in the Slavic tongue.

Grand Duke Emil looked across the aisle at the Defense Minister and scowled. Duke Volodymyr returned the glance with only a serious expression, it had to be done in his mind.

After the last few words of the Slavic blessing the patriarch began to lower the crown to the Grand Duchess’ brown hair that glistened with the lights of the sun stealing through the high windows of the cathedral. Just before he placed it on her, he said the words that would begin her reign.

“I now crown you Grand Princess of Rhynovia Karina of the House of Aristov, Lady of the Peariclean Sea, Protector of the Rhylands, Duchess of the City of Rhynovia, and HEIR to Velikoslavia.”

• All Foreign Dignitaries, heads of states or their representatives are invited UNLESS you are a communist country
• Please feel free to include anything you want up until this moment in the coronation in your post.
• I will be "moving the scene" every so often when I feel it is time from the coronation, to the ball that night, and then maybe on to other things to try and keep the pace going.
• All OOC discussion should be on Discord. Thanks!

[Mutul]

Among all the lavish decoration and the many distinguished locals or foreigns aristocrats and notables, many of which came from long and famous dynasties even those who weren't from the nobility, there stood a little group of men in funny looking clothes, long colorful robes all in cotton and silk, high quality mocassins at their feet and many rings at their fingers, among other jewelries.

Of the four, only one was not wearing such inhabitual clothes, and it was the only known face for some at this celebration : the Mutulese ambassador to Rhynovia, Aj Uk'an. His tenue was something more appropriate to the occasion, at least following Rhynovian tradition. The clothes of the other three were perfectly fine and acceptable, in another culture from a far away continent.

The man at the center of the group was the more interessing one. He was slightly shorther than the other men by his side, even if he was still taller than the ambassador who was a remarkably short man. His long robe of silk was dark green with many motifs sewed in with threads of gold, drawing a strange mosaic of many evasives figures who only showed themselves partially, depending on the light. He wore a diadem made of gold, and his long black hairs were kept in one long braid resting on his shoulder and going down to his belt.

But all of these details were far from being the most visible features of the man. For on his face was tattooed numerous glyphs forming a sort of reverse "L" going from just above his left eye and running through his cheek. The meaning behind these symbols were hidden to those who couldn't decypher them. But even to those who had learned to read them, they were cryptic.

This oh so strange man was none other than Janaab Pakal, B'ah Ch'ok Ajaw, Blood of Chaac, Prince Inheritor of the Mutul. On his left and right were two of his childhood friends, sons of grand lords and other descendants of long lineages, who also had distant ancestors in common with the Prince. Both wore similar clothing, but in different colors, the dark green and gold of Janaab being a distinct mark of the Royal Dynasty. Prince K'awak Winal wore his own personal colors : sky blue and silver, and the motifs of his robe and mantle were more geometrical, with many metallic losanges and triangles. The other, Prince Chan B'alamb, had a more interessing color scheme : a deep marine blue with waves of dark crimson.

The presence of such characters from a oh so criticized pagan theocracy could raise some eyebrows, but they had been invited nonetheless by the Rhynovian State to witness the coronation of their new Grand Princess, like every other nation in the world that had only moderate ammount of red on their flags. A way to secure once and for all the Grand Duchesses' legitimacy, especially after such a troubled period for her. Janaab understood little of what had happened, mostly because the Rhynovians seemed to take great care to hide informations about it, but it seems she went through rough time before being "found". This positively bizarre situation was also a reason why Janaab had decided to accept the invitation and go himself in his father's name to the coronation. He was a lover of everything strange and mysterious, and this "new" country that the Mutul had little to no political relations with sure tickled his interest. Beside, the White Path, the official religion of the Mutul, and the Christian Orthodox Church had a far less conflictual relationship than both had with the Fabrian Church. After all, wasn't there a whole "Mutulese" neighborhood in the old city of Aenonesos, one of the most important Patriarchate ?

When the trumpets roared the four men stood up like everyone else to see the parade of the young maids and old guards. Then finally came the Grand Duchess after one last roar of the musical instruments. When she passed near the Mutulese delegation, smiling to them as a form of salute, they answered by saluting in their own manner, by extanding their right leg, the heel touching the ground but the rest of the foot standing upward, and slowly bowing.

All the while, Janaab kept that mysterious, amused smile that was so characteristic of him, contrasting with K'awak Winal and Chan B'alamb's stern and haughty appearances. The Prince was starting to like this little diplomatic trip and appreciate this principality, hoping to see many interessing and suprising things during his stay.

However, the cold was, as someone who grew up almost on the equator, something he could've very well done without.

[Sante Reze]

It was cold, that much was certain. Duxe Alessandra’s son had been informed that Rhynovia was a cold and depressing place, but he hadn’t prepared for it mentally. With three layers of formal clothes - his suit, three pieces in the Vannoisian style and accompanied with a thin gold circlet to remind everyone that he was a titled member of Rezese nobility but not to be terribly ostentatious - Giorgie would have been out of place in Sante Reze but here at least he seemed to fit in rather well, though he had to consciously stop himself from shivering.

It wasn’t just the climate and the breeze exacerbating the issue. It was also the idea that sixteen years into a new millennium, people saw fit to rebuild monarchies after so many had long since overstayed their welcomes.

Though, seeing the parade of a processional into the cathedral, he supposed it wasn’t all bad. They did have access to vast wealth, inexplicably after a regime that should have destroyed it. Rhynovians were nothing if not hard-working. And maybe that hard work could be put to better use than their own savings accounts.

He watched the ceremony avidly. Some of it didn’t make any sense to him, other parts made sense but seemed overly mystical. If blessings could normally be imparted without anointing with oil, why then would this require it? God had already clearly blessed her. What more could the patriarch really do? Preach for twenty minutes, apparently. Truly, Giorgie would never understand these far-eastern Christians.

He zoned out several times, though, and tried to keep himself awake by looking around the room for anyone he might have recognized. The other Rezese scattered throughout - one or two representatives from each of the houses - were easy to find, though it was clear each group was making every effort to keep distance between themselves. As he craned his neck, he scratched under his collar, hating the feeling of the suit high on his neck and cursing Vannoisian fashion. The tattoos on the back of his neck, normally covered, were revealed in small amounts to those around him, though it was unlikely that anyone would know what they meant.

God, when will this be over, he thought. A Rezese coronation was five minutes of pomp and an hour of private contract signing. Hell, even a wedding ceremony was shorter than this monstrosity.

The food had better be worth it. And watching Karina, he was reminded of this the ultimate reason for him being sent over by his mother. She was pretty, he supposed, and the photos would be good. She could probably sell anything with a face like hers, and the family wouldn't even have to actually pay her for the weight she could throw into marketing. At least, not directly. He supposed she might be able to extract concessions but how bad could they really be? He only hoped her advisors wouldn't be the real regime, or at least that they wouldn't get in the way. She better be worth it.

[Achesia]

The crown had been laid upon her head and after decades of wandering through the proverbial desert of lost nations Rhynovia had a monarch again. The coronation itself after months of preparation had largely been a success, no expense spared as the world would be watching the troubled nation once again take its footing. Thousands of its own people who for most- if not all- their lives living without pride or hope would take this moment as a nation and regain a sense of self respect when they call themselves Rhynovians. The big screens, the pageantry, the festivals and even the monumental effort to clean up sections of the city to host this event all lead up to that single moment the crown was laid on the young eighteen year-old's head. It was a moment never destined to happen if it was not for the belief and faith held in many people's heart in that the legend of Duchess Karina was alive was true.

Now that the ceremony which ended with the releasing of doves and spreading of exotic flowers as Karina Aristov stood upon the dias in regal glory, the rebirth of Rhynovia as a nation on the world stage could begin. And with such a rebirth comes a celebration…

Karina stood peaking through the fine draperies of her fitting room at the crowds who had still yet to disperse from the viewing areas of the coronation set up outside the Grey Palace, her brown eyes peeking through the white linen as if she was afraid to be seen in her nude-colored bodice (that she was to wear under her ball gown), despite the assurances by her security the windows were one way. Perhaps one day the trappings of being the monarch to a nation would defeat her inner insecurities and vestiges of an afraid little girl. But until the vanity that came with power and vainglory of other's constant groveling settled into the deepest recess of her psyche where the old Maria Vasile still dwelt, she would forever hide behind the tapestries of her window, half nude or not.

One of the handmaidens grabbed Karina's bare shoulder to remind her to stand straight for fitting. Karina felt weary of the day that seemed to not end, one that had be rehearsed and planned for many months yet despite the glory it instilled in her she wished was over. Karina had been moved along what felt like a conveyor since she awoke in the dark hours of the morning, from feed to fitting and meetings to crowning. Yet the day would not yet end, and Karina who felt little more than a flag to be waved around as others cheered in her beauty, would be dragged with it. Forever having little control over the day’s destiny into the sunset hours.

“Your grace.” Karina was startled from her introspection as Grand Duke Emil's chief of staff Jae Nikolai's voice projected from outside the room. The uniformly dressed man stood facing away just beyond the cracked door, not to disturb the decency of the young princess, though she was separated by a partition. Karina despite this succumbed to the frightfulness of the scared girl, Maria, that she wrestled with in her daily life, crossing her arms in front of her chest as if she was exposed to the coldness of space and universal judgement.

“Yyyy..yes.” She cleared her throat as the handmaids measured her inseam. Karina had only recently grown accustomed to Emil's chief of staff coming to her with word from the Chancellor. Despite their long history in this chapter of the life of Maria and his presence at the “birth” of her life as Karina Aristov, she still felt something of a tremble when he came around. It was a feeling of something that caused her pause, when she saw him. Through much work she was able to speak to him, despite his being the hero of her story she felt a strange intimidation.

“Chancellor Medved wanted to send word that the guests have begun to arrive your grace.” Jae seemed uneasy, whether it be her or his reluctance to be little more than a page for the Chancellor, the chief of staff seemed discontent. Surely he was a man of great talents in many fields, Karina herself even recognizing his potential as a great asset, but as far as her experience around him in court he seemed to be weary…

Karina could understand that sentiment, battling the excitement of her new life and position with the weariness of being a woman who is viewed as little more than a face on a poster or television. To be admired and used to inspire rather than being considered a strong leader capable of bringing change to Rhynovia. She lowered her crossed arms, exhaling as she thought of the myriad of guests flooding the ballroom of the Grey Palace to see her enter under gown and crown. And even more so, the suitors that Grand Duke Emil warned her awaited.

“And the other guests?” Karina used Emil's own words regarding the suitors as she knew Jae had been in the meeting with them when it was said. She peaked around the partition at the sliver of Jae's back she could see. A wall of black uniform that crested into a single visible golden shoulder board.

“You will do fine…” There was hesitation in Jae's voice, a long pause following “... Just as the Grand Duke said your grace.” His follow up coming just as Karina felt to rebuke him for the familiarity of his words. She squinted in his direction, wondering what went through his mind when they talked. He was cold and unyielding, a man of his environment. She speculated he would have little deviation in his demeanor regardless of any combination of possible circumstances surrounding their acquaintance. It was contrary to what she was used to, having lived so long with Dunet, a businessman of a million faces.

As the handmaidens began to fit Karina to don her royal blue gown the silence continued from the man in her door. A few moments went by before he said anything more.

“You are the Princess after all.” His tone flirted with condescension.

Karina opened her mouth to rebuke or rubutt, but she did not know which. But regardless of her direction she only stood agape, in awe of his crass. The handmaiden had stopped in their fitting, in shock themselves that a low born man would speak such a way to the Grand Princess whom they were in awe of. But Karina stood silent, pretending to ignore his words as she shivered with the tingle running down her dimpled back.

Whether his tone was contrary or not, it was correct, she was the princess…. She was the princess… she was the princess…

“I am the princess.” She whispered to herself. Crossing her arms across her bodice and holding to her sides tightly.

[Mutul]

Post a Collaboration between Mutul and Achesia

The already opulent ballroom of the Grey Palace had lost little of its swagger in the days leading up to Grand Princess Karina's coronation ball. The gilded walls of gold and white splashed with the smooth marble floors littered with hundreds of fine shoes of noblemen and women, guests of esteem, and foreign dignitaries come to see the turn of the Rhynovian tide. All chattered and made social connections while the wine flowed and the classical music serenaded the evening dusklight. It was the celebration of the new century, one to rival those formals to celebrate the fall of the communist regime. Yet this ball of Rhynovia's and the world's leaders was not assembled to celebrate the destruction of a regime, but the creation of a new future for her people.

The music stopped mid-note, the criers beckoned all to rise in reverence, and the hand crafted doors of the ballroom were pulled ajar while the gab of the room came to an abrupt pause. Before them in the entryway of that ornate room lay a sight finer than the craftsmen of the Grey Palace could conceive, young Karina Aristov flanked by her ceremonial guard.

Karina's face was perfectly defined by makeup artisans flown from far corners of Belisaria, sprinkled with the faintest amounts of fine glitter to make her soft but defined cheeks shine. Dressed in a satin royal blue gown that hugged the figure of her body from breast to hip and then spread out into a magnificent train that flowed like the River Rhy. A sash in the colors of her country stretched from bare shoulder to hip, it's orange and forest green ordaining her chest with the seal of Rhynovia. Karina's brown hair was in an updo to rival all the models of Vainnios, not a single fine hair astray from her other locks, and upon them sat the tiara made custom for her from the family jewels of the Aristov family, interwoven rows of diamonds dancing upon her head.

The young Aristov monarch could feel the collective tension, a ballroom full of onlookers either truly beside themselves at the sight of the Princess or feigning their adore for the sake of their own face at court. Either way as a girl who grew up watching her uncle do business with the best and worse, she knew not all smiles meant their respect for her went much beyond her smooth shoulders, glittered cheeks, or rich brown eyes. Despite this wall of doubt she faced within herself that rose only higher with the court's affirmation upon their faces that she was nothing more than a fine banner, she smiled.

She smiled to the crier who so eloquently announced her entrance. She smiled to the ministers who bowed low in respect. She smiled to those whom gave her warmth, and she even smiled to those she knew hated her and she bore little love for. A carnival of charades it was as the crowd parted to allow the Princess to the center of the ballroom. There the dance floor was cleared for Karina's first dance as Princess of Rhynovia, the bride of a nation. As she entered the glade in the ballroom where the rows of onlookers stepped back, the band began playing a sentimental ballad, and her first dance step fourth.

“Chancellor.” She gave a true smile to her faithful guardian. Grand Duke Emil Medved had ever been kind and loving to his ward these past 2 years, and beyond Dunet who abused her Emil was the only kind man she knew. But his kindness had stirred a strange feeling within her, something she could not shake… contempt.

Not that Karina forgot all that Emil had done for her, and not that she did not love him like a father. But the ways of the older man whose experiences were of the last century did not spark much inspiration inside the young princess. He may have taught her courtly etiquette and how to carry herself like a princess, but all his lessons merely left her flying in the wind like a tattered banner.

As Karina took the Grand Duke's hand on the ballroom floor and the crowd looked on as they began to twirl around slowly, she kept her smile. But she could only think of how he dismissed her. Was it an active dismissal of a girl who had been caged all of her short life, or was it the passiveness of an old man who only saw a Princess to wed to a nation. Karina saw that battle within herself, but when she saw it in his eyes as she rebuked lords in the Assembly of Ranks or he scorned her for a misstep of words, if felt only like a reaffirmation that Maria Vasile would ever be in control of her.

Today he looked at her as if he just married her off. She thought to herself as they twirled, but regardless Karina took the strength from those in the room who were in awe of her, trying to grasp at the vanity that she saw many a nobleman or woman have since she became part of this world. Despite Emil Medved viewing her as a little girl, she resolved that she would grasp the reigns, it was only her right.

“You look beautiful my dear.” The Grand Duke whispered in her ear as he held her hand and hip. The many medals on his chest clanked around as as he spun her one last time.

Karina could only smile, perhaps despite the contempt her hubris had spawned she could always love him as a father.

Seperating, Emil bowed to Karina as a parting gesture, he had officially brought her to the world stage and given his ward up to the world.

Karina returned the bow with a low curtsey, playing the role of the loveable Princess and giving a sweet laughing smile. She now stood alone on the dance floor, looking at the crowd who took her in with their eyes, absorbing her. She kept her face about her as she looked around at who would come forth to be her second dance, and to see if they held a knife or outstretched hand. It was a huge honor to be the second dance, but one that was left to those who felt brave enough. Karina expected one of the many Rhynovian noble suitors to come forth, trying to claim her like a horse in a rodeo. But who came fourth from.the crowd first surprised her.

Tattooed face and a warm smile. Sparkling black eyes on an angular face and a smooth red skin only enhanced by the craftsmanship of an expert makeup artisan, nicely breaded long ebony hair falling down on his large shoulders. Karina could only recognize the chief of the Mutulese delegation, Head Prince Janaab’ Pakal, who had abandoned his long green and gold mantle, revealing his long sleeved white jacket sewn with subtly hidden golden threads, trousers of cotton and silk, and a type of moccasins that served, in Mutulese fashions, the same purpose as court shoes. When he spoke, he did so in a perfect Latin, yet with the harmonics of a Mutulese accent.

“Your Highness, may I have this dance ?”

Karina had sharp ears, and she could hear the murmurs of members of the court as the Mutulese man became the first with the fortitude enough to ask the Princess for a dance. She could even spy a few heirs to noble houses exchange glances of envy and frustration of entitlement. It was a perfect way for Karina to take a stab at the status quo.

“Of course my lord.” She studied his tattoos and different fashion style with curious reverence as she enjoyed very much seeing the cultures of the world with Dunet.

Politely she bowed to the Prince with a bending of the knees and lifting slightly of the hems of her dress. Her eyes looking towards gus exotic footwear before coming back up to meet his with a smile.

The band began a new ballad as she put her hands out palms down, knowing the Prince surely did not know enough of the culture of Rhynovian ballroom to offer his hands or bow first. But Karina was not so culturally insual to not guide him, his kind gesture to seize the second dance something respectable in her brown eyes. Though it surely drew the ire of the court. She would find the Oxidentalese prince to be less of a drag than expected. It had required a crash course on Belisarian ballets but the basics had been learned and well integrated. He nonetheless left himself be guided, more than happy to let the Grand Princess have her moment. He was apparently impervious to the venomous glances coming their way. Petty nobles was a thing he had learn to grow with, and the Rhynovian nobility was barely more than background noises, as far as he was concerned. He only had eyes for the princess in front of him, gauging her, such an odd little thing…

“Your Majesty, you should tell His Grace your Grand Duke to stop stare at me with such insistence. I might get stage fright.” He whispered, amused by the situation.

With such a polite and friendly laugh Karina smiled while looking back to Emil.
“Oh he does not mean you ill, my lord.”
She leaned in to whisper into Janaab's ear. “He is just a very doting father figure.” She giggled like a typical girl her age would. It was the first light hearted moment she had for a long while, always feeling like she was on the defense. She liked how up front the Oxidentalese man was, something about that put her at some ease as they spun.

By this time the rest of the court had paired up and joined the Grand Princess and the Oxidentalese Prince in their ballad, a sea of rhythmically moving nobles flowing to the tune of the violin, chello, and piano.

“Thank you for coming all this way to celebrate with us.” The corners of her lips turned upwards as she returned to her official demeanor. “Have you been enjoying your time in Rhynovia? I imagine it's quite different from your homeland?” Karina had surely heard stories of Mutul, mostly negative points expounded by Belisarian media, but in her travels with Dunet there was something she held to be truth, it was that all cultures from their own perspective found others to be wrong in some regard. Whether Belisarian culture be more prevalent in the world did not mean it did not have its own faults.

“Absolutely. Will you believe me when I tell you it’s the first time I saw snow ? I never had a reason to be in Belisaria in the winter before. Even if I’d do without the cold, your nation up until now has done nothing but to spark my interest.”

He smiled again at here, his black eyes still gauging her faces, reactions… he had been trained all his life for this, sifting people to get as many nuggets of truth he could from the artifices of an aristocratic lifestyle.

“You’re scared, aren’t you?”

Karina's expression froze to a flat and paler attitude. She felt uncomfortable, yet he was right. Despite putting on a brave face and pretending she now held onto some imaginative power she was just a little girl inside.

Instinctively her hand held onto Janaab tighter, before realizIng her grip and regaining control of her emotions.

She looked to her hand and his. “I'm sorry.” Her voice was shaky. Karina supposed there was little to hide from the man who so easily read her. “Do I betray myself?” She looked watery eyed to him, still maintaining her artificial courtly smile.

He could not help but have a small “sorry” smile. “No you don’t. You acted exactly like you should’ve and you were well taught. But there are subtles details for those who know what to look for, the way you look at people, the way you stand when you’re not playing your role… most of your subjects are too interested in what you represent to see it. And those who could guess are, I bet, already in the known. You’re an oddity, Your Highness. You are of high blood, this much is obvious, yet you move like a river fish caught in the ocean. This is not the world you’ve grown in, am I right ?”

She would find offense in being called a river fish if it were not true, the storming ocean around her a frightful torrent to the small girl. The world she did grow in was no friendlier but at least there she lived along the edges, hidden in the reef that was the lie about her life.

“No… its not.” Her pink lips stuck together as she hardly opened them to let out the whisper of her weakness. She looked away instinctively in some sort of shame, a shame that had been growing in her, the same of undeserved wealth, power, and prestige.

Janaab took the lead in the slow ballad, not letting the rest of the dancers or the spectators guess that anything was going wrong. Seeing Karina reminded him events from so long ago, when he was but a young, untattooed, boy. His consciousness was telling him it would be an error, but something in him pushed him to do something relatively risky.

“From A Prince to another,” he whispered, slowly, like he was still hesitant to talk. “let me tell you a short story. It was… 18 years ago. Young me just had to go through two hours of in depth description of the daily functioning of the Divine Throne… the Mutulese Government, if you will. The recurring theme was the importance of the K’uhul Ajaw and how vital he was to every institution. It made young me think, and the idea of being at the center of the stage and making a mistake… scared me. So, I went to see my mother. I wanted to tell her how I felt, and why did the Ilok’tab, our family, had to deal with these responsibilities, with the idea that every mistake you’ll make will have repercussions for the years, if not decades, to come. But I did not find my mother, and instead stumbled upon my father.”

“I was a young kid, and to be fair with you, I was scared of him. The Mutuleses have a very different set of expectations for their sovereigns compared to Belisarians and to match them,they are trained to be cold, distant.. It was how I saw His Holiness my father at the time, and I was scared of him. Yet, I decided to go, and talk. Ask him directly my questions, ask him how does he support the weight of his function.”

Karina listened intently, though she still did not know how to take Janaab and if he was just blowing words in her ear, she listened anyways. She in fact was very interested in what he had to say, the very fact he did not judge her unworthy upon her admission to being afraid of her new title at least had her comfortable to continue to the second ballad, a few suitors disappointed when Karina instead of switching partners continued with Janaab as the tune changed.

Janaab warmly smiled to the Princess, amused as much by his littled story as he was laughing at himself for revealing too much. “He told me to come and sit next to him, and then he revealed to me the secret of all true good rulers. A secret I pass unto you today : a good ruler does nothing. He has myriads of men and women at his service to do his bidding. The true role of a ruler, is to give the impulsion needed for all these people to act correctly. Small pushes, to make them fall into places. Everything else is secondary, the true art, is to give the right impulsion when needed, and to let things happen otherwise.”

Do nothing? Karina could not quite process it, her years of watching Dunet be a man about doing and going and working had her conflicted at the Prince's sage advice. Although the young girl had little experience of her own to make judgement as to whether she agreed.

It was the first time she had done such, but as Janaab and Karina twirled around on the dance floor she looked out to the guests lining the ballroom, her eyes catching sight of her guardian and Chancellor Emil. He was standing hands behind his back, a common pose for the older girthy man as he judged or analyzed a subordinates words or situation. She could not hear him but could tell that he was giving some sort of command to one of his staff members wearing a suit, a stern look across his face as the staffer conversely looked hurried and uncomfortable. Of course whatever the message was it was received in haste and the staffer scurried off to complete his given task.

The newly crowned Princess thought back to Janab's words just then, reflecting on Emil and how he gave impulsions to those around him… even Karina herself.

Am I being ruled by others? She thought to herself, wondering if those around her who outwardly give her the standard pleasantries were really ruling her through imparting impulses on the young naive princess. She was young… just a little girl, she drew in a stiff breath as her insecurities crept from the dark abyss of her soul, threatening to rear its head through the thing veil that was her fragile pride.

Looking back to Janaab she wanted more answers.

“But I am young….I'm just a young girl.” Karina whispered as quietly as a sin. She did everything to hold back.the emotion she felt, her glistening eyes betraying her.

“Mi a xa ub’ax ; Do not limit yourself to what you are ! You, a young girl ? Maybe. And maybe we can’t stay young forever...

Ah but I’m saying too much again. Come, let us catch the rhythm ! And maybe I should give you back to your subjects for a moment thereafter, less they start wondering about you rather than me. But I do enjoy enjoy this little talk, Your Highness, and I would be more than happy to continue it later if it so please you.”

She looked around at the crowd, some were watching, others engaged in their own talking or dancing. Karina supposed that she could not take up much more time with Janaab less members of the court grow suspicious of a foreign man getting a little too close to the Princess. The press and even members of her court had been jumping at the chance to spread rumors of secret love affairs or scandalous behavior of a young girl gone wild under pressure. To them anything was ammo.

Her polite face of a diplomat returned, nodding her head as she acknowledged their time was through. Out of the corner of her eye she could already see suitors lining up to be the next to ask for her dance, though she too eyed a gap in the crowd that might lead to the relief of non-dancing conversation with some old noblemen not hell bent on wedding her and bedding her. Speaking of, Karina could see Rostikov lurking, his lust for fulfilling his family's wishes through her insatiable.

“Indeed, thank you… for the kind words.” She nodded her head, reluctant to end their conversation, and melancholy with the thoughts of what he said.
“I hope… I hope we may speak again, soon.”
She gave Janaab a polite curtsy before smiling as if she would take his words to heart, and melting into the crowd behind her, suitors in pursuit.

These goodbyes done, Janaab too returned to the crowd of the spectators and guests to the event, coming back to his delegation. He was greeted by the stern, harsh look of his friend K'awak Winal, who obviously disapproved of the Head Prince’s brash decision. Janaab sighted, ready for the following talk.

“I know what you’re going to say.” The Head Prince declared to his friend in K’iche, their mother language and one far away in tones and sounds from the “classic” Multi.

K’awak did not react, only re-adjusting the blue mantle in which he was still draped. “It was a mistake.” He finaly said. Few were capable of openly contesting the Head Prince’s judgement, and fewer still were those who were allowed too. But K’awak was too straight in his principles and respected Janaab too much to let the Head Prince go astray.

Janaab, nonetheless, winced.“I disagree. It may have seemed a bit impetuous, but trust me when I said that it was needed.”

“Hmph.” Was all K’awak added. Meanwhile, Janaab took a sit on some chair lying around. He found them rather uncomfortable, but that’s because Mutuleses even in the 21th century, still prefered to sit cross-legged on cushions or large bench. “Beside, it was fun.” Added the Prince, with a small giggle. K’awak just sighted, exasperated, but Janaab was already thinking about something else, checking his mental list of what he knew or had discovered about this odd little princess.

Mysterious Mysteries for a Marvelous Story, I wonder and ponder… A little smirk appeared on his face. Yes This visit of the Grand Principality announced itself to be far from boring.

[Sante Reze]

Post a Collaboration between Santheres and Achesia

Karina found that being the Grand Princess left her little latitude to sneak around as she once did when she lived as Maria Vasile. No more late night excursions into town or sneaking out to different parts of the mansion while her uncle was away. Though as Princess she had the power to go as she chose, some places just were not feasible, liking escaping this ball filled with hundreds of people wanting a piece of her. Karina dodged and smiled the best she could through the crowd as her blue gown bumped and scraped against the many guests, but it always seemed like someone who truly wanted to could find her.

"My Princess." The seedy voice of none other than Rostikov Calay gave her chills as she paused and turned to face the young heir to the Calay estate. She had seen and spoken with Rostikov many times over the past year as she attended different functions, and none of them left her wanting more, and none did she initiate. In fact, Rostikov seemed to be on missionary to bother her at all times, yet in his mind she assumed it was all in the good sport of courting a bride.

"My lord." She bowed her head swiftly and with less sincerity than she would with others. She did not feel the need to give much time to someone whose only mission was to gain rank and prestige by marrying the Grand Princess. Karina had met many greedy businessmen over the years who would smile at you and give you compliments while at the same time stealing your purse, and Rostikov gave her that vibe with his almost too clean appearance and empty expressions.

"Would you care for a dance?" Rostikov placed his hand outward. "I would be most honored to spend this ballad with a woman as beautiful as you." He lathered on the hollow charm like too much cream to a Piroshki, nearly making Karina wish to gag on his self-absorption.

But her fortitude to hide her true feelings prevailed, and with a grin came up with the first escape from the situation as she caught glimpse of a Rezese man in the corner of her eye.

"Oh I am sorry My lord." She smiled as if she actually was remorseful. “But I promised this man a dance earlier.” Karina said while uncharacteristically grabbing the Rezese man's hand and turning to him with a polite nod good-bye to Rostikov. It was out of etiquette to do so but Karina could sense she was going to be breaking allot of these rules to fit her style, she was Princess after all.

"Care for that dance?" She said taking his other hand up and placing it on her hip inconspicuously, though she was positive he would not recall any sort of promise of a dance as it did not happen. She hoped he could read between the lines.

He was quick, and could see Rostikov looking over expectantly, his glare colored by a mixture of disbelief and envy. This was far more within the norm for him, far more like Sante Reze and working with and around its own aristocracy. Jealousy was a weapon to be used, and Rostikov had already shown himself to be a valid target, in spite of the Rezese man having never met him before.

In his other hand was a flute of sparkling wine, which he placed on the nearest flat surface - a table with a handful of people he did not know. He didn't look twice at them as they glanced up to see who he was and why he was invading their space. Instead, he placed his hand firmly on Karina's back, just below her shoulder blade, and led her out to an unused portion of the floor, in a gap between several couples passing along the line of dance. His frame was sloppy, more of a more casual Rezese fashion than that of the stiff Latins, but the lead was strong. Had Karina not known the dance, she would have followed well enough.

The girl felt a tingle as his hand grasped her back, the older man far more confident and casual about her invitation then she was expecting, but it was indeed refreshing from those like Rostikov who all night had bowed and scraped to her.

"And just who did I save you from, Your Highness?" he asked quietly, the music and passing conversations covering his words from being overhead.

Karina's cheeks may have reddened as the suave and copper skinned man led her along in dance. Far more relaxed than she felt being pursued in her own palace just moments ago she even dared a smile as she admired the characteristics of yet another charming foreign man that night. Though compared to Janaab this man was smoother and less sage like, more of a debonair actor on the stage that was the Grey Palace's ballroom.

Relaxed enough she returned the confidence in turn, one of the few nights she felt like she had any. Partially because the Rezese man made her feel less a princess with attached expectations and more like just a young girl on the dance floor.

"Oh…" She wanted to be as smooth talking as him. "Just an ugly thing called obligation." Her fingers tapped on his shoulder as she doubted her play on words sounded as good as she thought they were.

He chuckled and spun her under his arm in two quick, double-time revolutions before reconnected with her precisely on the correct beat. It could never be said that he wasn’t a good dancer, intimately familiar with both the waltz and with music itself. As they rejoined for another clockwise rotation, in his thin but noticeable accent, he said to her, "Well, I suppose his name matters little. Mine, however, is Giorgie Alessandre of House Condozi."

Giorgie's introduction took on a tone best associated with the facades of polite society as he introduced himself, but he recovered from it and in a quieter, more sincere voice, he added, "But a friend in need can just call me Gior."

"You are from Sante Reze?" She took a moment to look him over casually, her voice much calmer and less forced then with the others from her own country.

He waited a full bar before answering. “Ah, yes, is it obvious? My mother is the…,” he lightly drummed his fingers on her back as he thought about the word. "A cazique - umm, like an archduke to the Latins, I think - of the Sante Reze."

"Cah-ze-kay." Karina muttered trying to pronounce the title Gior had just said to her. She giggled as she was sure she was butchering the man's nobility but with little other care she just enjoyed spinning a round the dance floor with someone other than just another stuffy Rhynovian noble or his well-to-do son, well-to-do foreigners were more her style.

Gior seemed very free, less rigid than slavic culture called for a man of station to be, something about his casual tone and drumming of his fingers on her back eluded to the fact that he did not give much care that she was Grand Princess, and had no intention of sucking up to that, a characteristic Karina admired.

"I've been to Sante Reze before." She said without thinking. She was mildly shocked she even mentioned it as she did not know how to carry on the conversation from there. Dunet did not let her off the plane when they made a stop in the country, she hardly even knew what airport she was at when they were there. "It's warm?..." Her tone faltered as she recovered with a bright smile. "Although I'm sure you already knew that." She was abashed at her inelegant attempt at conversation, but something about the dark handsome Rezese man made her capricious. "I hope the cold lands of Rhynovia have not been too much for you? Though I'm sure you've been places farther north before."

Karina was off balance and she decided the stop rambling while she was ahead, instead hoping Gior would pick up the conversation.

"I would say that it's less that the Sante Reze is warm and more that Rhynovia is not." He exaggerated a shiver. "So very much not. On the other hand, I've been told I wear these thick suits well. A shame, really, as I'm sure I'd die in one back home."

The song ended and Gior spun her out to a stop on precisely the final beat. The band was predictable - but then, he supposed they would have to be. This wasn't the kind of event during which a musician would want to be unpredictable or experimental.

"I guess," he said as he began to lead her off of the floor, "that I should return you back into the hands of your obligation now. If you need anything, though, I'll be… around." He leaned in closer to whisper to her, "I'm trying to avoid the other Rezese, so it's important not to stay in one place for too long."

Karina could certainly identify with avoiding her own countrymen. Though up until 2 years ago she hardly considered herself Rhynovian. But the spotlight of being a princess made her weary, and certainly the both of them could use a break.

Looking side to side many of her guests seemed distracted as the band struck up another song and Emil Medved took to the floor with the Baroness of Plood, if there was any time she was to get a breather it was now.

"You know I certainly can understand that." Quickly looking around to make sure they were not being too closely watched, Karina took Gior's hand and led him to a nearby exit of the ballroom. Of course her ever present palace security detail was there awaiting her, yet they would not stop her from stepping out for one moment.

As the exit door cracked open and Karina slipped through, she could see from the corner of her eye the ever watchful Chancellor's Chief of Staff, Jae, watching her. He had the look of disapproval on his face, but despite this Karina had enough free will to spare to slip out anyways, weary of people's expectations for one night.

Once in the hall, security detail a polite distance away yet still in tow, she released Gior's hand and let out a "pwoah" sigh, basking in the muffler silence of the estates private hallway. Stepping over to an accent table she stripped herself of the sash and crown, relieving the tension it put on her shoulder, neck, and scalp.

Holding the back of her neck with both arms she smiled towards Gior.

"So what are you avoiding then?" She handedly grinned.

Gior leaned back and looked down the hallway to confirm their privacy, though really there wasn’t any chance of someone he cared about overhearing them actually being there. "I don't know how much you know of Rezese politics but every house is always looking for way to hurt the others. If they can't talk to me or find me, there's nothing for them to use against my family. That's why my mother only sent me."

He sighed and propped himself up against the wall, realizing there wasn’t really any escape. "Of course," he said, "this might still classify as compromising to a tabloid, which will say anything. I don't think any Rezese tabloids are here but I know nothing of Rhynovia’s press."

Karina scoffed, leaning against the wall, her bare back against the cold plaster as she slid down till her bottom hit the floor. She sat in the ploof of her own gown as she leaned her head back against the wall, looking up at the golden chandeliers.

"There isn't anything for the tabloids to print on me that they already haven't."

Karina turned her head to the side and gazed up and down with her brown eyes at Gior, smirking as she thought of all the ridiculous things she saw printed about herself.

"I've simultaneously been pregnant, addicted to drugs, and having an affair with my 69 year old Chancellor according to some publications. I'm not too bothered if they caught me with a nice Rezese gentleman." She smiled up at him, thinking about how smooth his copper skin looked. "Besides it might get them off the rumor me and Rostikov are engaged… or simultaneously already expecting. Not Sure which I read more recently." There was a certain levity to her tone, a more relaxed Karina leaning against the wall while sitting on the floor of her own palace. It was worlds apart from the ball just on the other side of said wall, yet she felt more native here in quiet unexpected places.

"In fairness," he said, "if you're pregnant with your chancellor's drug-child, that is quite the scandal. Your life is your life, but I can't say that I approve."

Karina giggled and smiled, another light-hearted feeling coming about her, this Gior was a different kind of interaction for her, there wasn't an artificial word or expression between them.

He feigned a look of condemnation before crossing the hallway to sit on the floor across from her, back braced against the wall. The wall was cold, and he could feel the heat leaving him through his suit jacket. It was pleasant.

He let silence linger between them for however long she wanted, being comfortable with it himself. Besides, they could still hear the party down the hall and tapping of shoes that he assumed belonged to staff. It was just like home, only in a different language. After some time, he thought to do better as a guest and offer further conversation.

"So, I'm fine with sitting here the rest of the evening ducking Rezese: I assure you that no matter what you think of me, we aren’t nice people. However, I'm certain you're due back soon, so you might want to start considering your options if you haven't yet. There's always jumping from a balcony and running off into the woods."

A gloom came about her, the part that wanted to be free of formality and fictitious courtesy wanted to follow Gior's half-jested advise and jump off that balcony. Yet with as far as she had come she knew there was no running, even if she wanted to leave they would find her and bring her back. As much as Karina Aristov was the monarch of Rhynovia, so too was she its finely dressed and manicured slave.

"Why there is our good Rezese, come to squat on the floor much like your home country?"

The over pompous and ego-laden voice of Rostikov Calay could be heard from around the corner of the grand hall. Clearly Rostikov could only see Gior, and not Princess Karina who sat opposite him. His footsteps neared while a tingle went up Karina's back, the arse's nerve to be so rude to foreign guests… her guests.

Gior smiled up at Rostikov and laughed. "That's a good joke. Yes, it must look weird to someone who has to prove to others he has money. We sort of just… have it, you know?"

He stood slowly, bracing himself against the wall as he did so. He eyed Rostikov briefly; the man had the look of a wax figure, well-made perhaps but ultimately not real. Of course, Gior did know the type, since they were all over Sante Reze as well. Hell, he probably was that type. There was little way of knowing from inside it, he was sure. But the study of Rostikov was quick, as he preferred to offer as little attention as possible. Instead, he shifted his gaze back to Karina.

Karina shot up in a rage, her blood boiling at Rostikov's comment.

"Rostikov!" Karina yelped as she straightened out her gown after sitting on the floor. Her face twisted with insult.

Standing between the two she glared at her country-man, one of the men whom her Chancellor claimed to be fit to be a suitor. Karina could remember a few times Dunet became enraged, his temple bursting on the side of his head, an empty and almost vacuum tight quiet coming about him. Many of Dunet's business subordinates knew the silence was the calm before the tempest that was Dunet's wrath. While a good many of these instances were directed at Karina after she inadvertently pushed one of his buttons, the anger surely passed along to her, even if they were not blood related.

Rostikov scoffed. "My Princess, do not concern yourself with the territory between men, it would be a dishonor to me if such a man were to woo you while I am cast aside." He lightly pushed Karina aside as he made to pass her towards Gior.

Smack.

The vacuum deepened. No void of space was emptier than the silence after Rostikov's cheek reddened and Karina's palm swiped past. Her own temple was bursting now.

"I am no territory Rostikov, I am your lord!" Her tone enraged and as deep as a young girl's voice could possibly go, while concurrently shaking with uncontrollable fervor.

Gior looked on, stunned and unaware of what - if anything - he could do. Was there talking down from this? If he involved himself, what would the repercussions be? Ideas and second guesses raced through his head in that fraction of the second.

Rostikov took a moment to realize what had happened as pins and needles enveloped his cheek. But surely as he acknowledge what had occurred blind tenacity took control, grabbing Karina's arm and twisting it as she yelped and tried to wrestle it free.

"You do not dishonor me you tart!"

Again, Gior wanted to act but couldn’t know what doing so might mean, and his hesitation lay heavy in the air. But it was only brief, and his politically-dubious instinct got the better of him. He reached for Rostikov's hand on Karina’s arm, not quite knowing his own intent beyond interrupting him. That was all that mattered, he supposed.

The whole of the situation was spinning out of control before Karina's very eyes as the collective patience of the trio continued to deteriorate. Karina's arm redmarked from where Rostikov's hands clenched her, a momentary mark she was accustomed to from the abuses of Dunet Vasile.

Rostikov however had lost all wits, only further broken down in ego by the grasp of the foreigner breaking him away from Karina. His eyes fixed on the olive skin of Gior, bloodshot as he imagined how many ways he could exact vengeance on this pest, however unrealistic they may be. However complicated he imagined his retort to be, only the primary reaction would present itself in this moment to a man with little self reflection to realize his own base instinct. Balling his fist, he would make to strike at Gior, fixated on his olive framed eye.

Gior waited, fully expecting to be hit and having little other idea of what good he could truly do. He dared not at this moment risk striking Rostikov - certainly not first, at least. So, instead he looked at Karina as if to apologize for having gotten her into this situation. But the hit didn’t land, and from down the hall he heard a commotion.

"Princess! Princess! Are these the two finalists for suitor?!"

The question permeated the usual polite level of conversation one would have in Grey Palace as lens flashes began to interrupt their row.

A dozen or so members of the press were now capturing this very moment as Gior stood to separate Rostikov and Karina and the former readied his fist in response.

Before Rostikov could figure out what to say or do, Gior quietly asked, "I forget, is it a crime to strike your sovereign here?"

Rostikov lowered his fist almost as quickly as the press got closer. He made every effort to change his expression, from one of anger and envy to suddenly one of neutral charm, almost as if he and Gior were longtime friends.

"For common men like you, but not for the prince to be." He leaned in to whisper in Gior’s ear.

Gior chuckled and whispered back, "The world listens to money, though, and I have much more of that."

Security for the palace soon arrived on the scene to hold off the press as they crowded Karina, Gior and Rostikov. Karina still stood in blind rage as the impotent noble boy acted as if all was normal in this little interaction they had, his handmark still on his arm.

Rostikov smiled a devilish grin to her, knowing how much she hated him and loving every ounce of her rage.

"I am sure whomever our dear Princess chooses will be the wisest choice for our nation!" He loudly proclaimed and smiled to the cameras, leaving Karina or Gior little chance to correct the press’ misunderstanding. Karina who looked down in shame knew the scolding she would receive from her chancellor later for this media nightmare would be severe. But what truly felt worse to her is that Gior, someone whom she felt shared a small connection with her, was now caught up in her mess.

Before security ushered her away down the hall towards safety from prying cameras, Karina mouthed to Gior "Sorry." Her eyes watery as security led her down the hall, her brown eyes looking over her shoulder till they turned the corner leaving Gior alone to the press and a few palace guards now corralling them back into their pool.

All he could do was shrug apologetically back as Karina was hurried off, but he managed to regain his composure and put on the practiced media-friendly noble smile. Then, the press' questions came expecting answers. He was skilled at giving noncommittal non-answers, though, and welcomed them over the possibility being stuck in private with Rostikov any further. If anything happened to Gior, he knew his mother would make the man pay for it, but that wasn't a good enough reason to take chances.

[Achesia]

That Night...

What was even worse than his lectures were the silent moments he would spend in utter disappointment across from her after her supposed antics ended up in the headlines of that evening’s tabloids. Karina was used to seeing the furrowed disappointment in his old and sunken eyes by now, so it ceased to upset her that she would let her adoptive father down in moments like this, the sort of natural progression one makes in the later years of their life when your parent’s opinions mean less and less compared to your own feelings on the matter. Typically, Karina would sit in shame with her head hung as she sat across the couch listening to Grand Duke Emil Medved go on and on about the duty of the monarch and the aura that she must display whenever in the eyes of her subjects.

In moments like these the urge to be free of the shackles of the public eye and the crown she wore on her head were strongest. Being the Princess while meaningful and fulfilling to the young girl, left a certain hole in a place she felt her youth was less expressed. The title princess in some ways was as oppressive to Karina as being Maria in Dunet’s mansion was, just trading one palace for another. Conversely to her adamant refusal to feel at fault for tonight’s blunders, Kairna felt it unfair to compare Emil Medved to Dunet. Where Dunet had locked her away, beat her, and otherwise been cruel; Emil Medved was kind, mentoring, and genuinely cared for the young girl’s welling being. Though the pressure he placed on her to rise to the heights of her ancestors felt like much at times, Karina knew it was in her best interest.

Emil looked to start a thought as he shifted in his seat and opened his lips, but it soon left him as he just looked on at his ward, no words to express the frustration.

Karina had enough of the silence and games, she had other things to do and did not wish to spend hours in a staring match with her Chancellor.

“If we are going to have a silent sparing match every time the press makes a headline of me, let me know so I can set aside a regular meeting.” Karina sat up straight, huffing.

Emil looked to the side, fixated on the trim of the floorboards. Karina had never seen him so quiet after she openly defied him. Usually that would only make the lecture worse.

Karina huffed again, this time in frustration with her harsh treatment of her adoptive father. She rolled her eyes upward and stared at the ceiling, contemplating what else could be said.

“I don’t–“

“You’ve found your confidence.” He finally looked back up at her.

“Huh?” She now lost her thought.

“Your confidence Karina. You’re correct, the press will always make headlines of you. And while I may not like it, you are a young beautiful woman and both in fascination and wonder they will always try to place you in any situation they can dream of.”

Karina had a perplexed look on her face as to what point Emil was arriving at, but she stayed silent in anticipation.

“While I may not agree with the situation you put yourself in tonight, all those other times I have lectured you, you yourself found shame sitting there on the couch across from me. All the times I scolded you about acting like the Grand Princess of Rhynovia I could see the shame in your own eyes, you knew you acted wrongly in those instances.” Emil shifted in his seat. “But not tonight, tonight you Karina believe you acted correctly, and within your eyes I see that you are confident about it. A monarch needs such confidence else they will always second guess their own decisions… and nothing is more dangerous than that.”

Karina was awestruck that this impending lecture somehow turned into a compliment.

“Tato…” Her eyes welled. She could feel that Emil acknowledged how she was growing. Not just as a monarch but as a young woman.

Emil stood and adjusted his coat, still wearing his dinner dress from that night’s ball.
“Your majesty.” He bowed to the girl who sat teary eyed on the couch in the parlor.

Karina shot up from the couch and wrapped her arms around Emil’s neck, sniffling.

“Your words are always dearest to my heart Tato… I know I can be a brat sometimes, but I always hear….” Her tears soaked his shoulder board as Karina held him.

“I know…” He wiped his own tear away. The hour was late and it was time for her Chancellor, Father, Mentor, and Confidant to retire. The weariness in his eyes evident after a long period of activities from the coronation to the ball. The room fell silent after the door closed behind him, and for the first time in countless hours Karina was alone in her small apartment within the massive Grey Palace which she called home. While Emil may be weary from the day’s activities, the young Princess still had a fire burning inside her, and it needed to be quenched.

Changing out of her ball gown Karina donned some less conspicuous clothing, the most generic clothes she had in her wardrobe, a black sun dress that she had purchased in a boutique just miles from her palace. It was a strange purchase made on one of the many publicity days her PR team had her wander through the streets of Rhynovia. Karina had yet to wear it, little chance for her to dress like a normal girl her age with the activities of a monarch. As she ran her hands down her sides and hips she also knew her Chancellor and adoptive father would blow a fuse before ever letting her leave the palace in such an outfit, as sexy as Karina felt.

It had been 2 years since she was brought into this life, and each day of it had been spend preparing her for the role of the Grand Princess that she now wore. The constant pressure, lectures, and work that it entailed gave little for her to blow of steam. Amongst all of this pent-up angst Karina nearly crumbled in the weight of it all, suffering a breakdown which found her wandering the halls of the palace seeking an escape. It wasn’t until she was found was she introduced to a way to escape from the trappings of royalty and title, and now she often seeks such an escape.

Security was tight around her apartment within the palace, the young Princess a safely guarded treasure in this nation. But given her experience sneaking out of the clutches of Dunet Vasllie so often, sneaking away from her own guards came with just a bit of practice. Out of the door and slinking along the walls of the grand hallway she silently crept in her black parlor dress, watching carefully that guardsmen did not walk up on her. After the main hallways leading to her apartment it was all too easy to get to her destination with security lessened, the winding hallways of the palace a maze for those who did not understand it. Kairna herself had gotten lost the first time she snuck away from her apartment, her own home a mystery to her. She nearly had to turn herself in to find her way back to her apartment, if it was not for the person she now snuck to go see. Keeping her secret knowing all to well Karina required an escape to handle the pressures of the title of Grand Princes. This savior led her away to a safe place, a refuge of sorts where she could be just a girl once again, and not a princess.

Knowing her way now she dashed from hallway to hallway, hiding in dimly lit alcoves in the architecture of the palace when she did not wish to be seen. Altogether it would take ten minutes till she reached what was the lower levels of the Grey Palace, and the grey door she ever so needed to rap on.

Softly her porcelain hand tapped just above the knob as she held her body close to the doorframe, her heart pounding in anticipation of getting caught. Yet it would pound more as the split second it took for the door to open and her to be pulled in frightened her more than being caught by Emil himself. Blood rushing she found herself held by the shoulders against the wall on the other side of the door, pinned by the hands of Jae Nikolai in his small staff apartment.

The door snapped close, her heart no less frantic.

“So you came.” He eyed her, he could feel her heart beating faster and faster as he relished the sound of her breathing.

She nodded, his thumbs holding her bear shoulders like she was just a doll. While the history between them was an awkward one, their first encounter in the slums of the city in a busy market, Karina had felt an obvious attraction to Jae. Though the nature of their encounters seemed to always bring about odd circumstances between the two, enough so that Karina felt some resentment of his forcefulness. In public she did everything to avoid him, the part of Karina who was Grand Princess feeling insecure to him.

But she often forgot in those moments he was the reason she was there, his forcefulness, his violence of action at all the right times is what saved her and brought her to this life. And though she resented the look of him in the mornings during briefings and dreaded the chasm that existed between the two socially, Karina loved him.

As his hand slid across her shoulder carnally, she cooed as his fingers ran up her neck and grasped it tightly. It brought memories back to Karina of the first time he held her like this. It was that first day they met on the streets, when she wouldn’t take the water bottle to give him a sample of her DNA, he grasped her just like this around the neck and kissed her to take what he wanted. He got his own not long after when Dunet’s men clocked him over the head, but the memory of his fingers lingered in her mind.

As he clenched her, he looked deep into her brown eyes, his own green irises burning with passion.

“You’re not the Princess in here… hm?” His question almost sounded like a reminder the way he stated it.

Her heart pounded more in anticipation, something stirring within her.

“Yes…” She let out a long shaking breath.

Jae dove in, kissing her, the two embracing for several long moments as she let him hold her there.

After the smacking and twisting of heads Jae surfaced to look at her; up and down he feasted on her. But as he returned his gaze to her eyes, he saw a raging fire, and through her pounding heart and racing breaths a devious smile sprouted on Karina’s lips.

In another swift instance Karina was tossed face first onto the bed just a few feet away. Face down she stayed, devoid of any of her usual emotional walls or commanding presence she exuded as Princess. She was just Karina, a girl thrust into positions she never imagined. A fire within was consuming her, though in the halls of the palace during her duties as Princess she held the aura of a monarch well, it had to be quenched else she burn alive. Jae was the only one who could do just that.

Although she may be the heir to Velikoslavia, he was the heir of her.

~Fin~