uncourteous | 💗

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why raeliana ended up at the crown prince's palace — now on sale...

not me showing my investment from like day 1. once i finish work, i'll have an image up here.

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[ the prickly undertone of her reaction doesn't go over his head. despite how straight-forward he had been in his own approach (though, by his standards, he considered it moderately sublte), he didn't exactly expect even a speck of her real emotions to flicker and make their presence known. naturally, her words do not betray even a sliver of the dignity a noble lady should possess, but the prospect that he's captured onto even the tiniest semblance of her true nature excites him.

is it sheer pettiness that drives him? the desire to see her finally become unwound by his own hands. much like a predator feels the allure of a prey within their grasp, his throat seems to tighten with a particular thirst. as she's surmised, perhaps all noblemen simply sought out entertainment. a reason to exist that went beyond their titles. it's why he finds it a bit of a shame when she wears the mask of a proper lady. while the vast majority of the people would have simply taken her apology as a token of goodwill, callisto seems to have other ideas. especially, since they weren't alone...

this is only punctuated by the way he holds the glass to his lips, taking gracious sips, and eventually downing three quarters of it. once he feels its sufficient, he grabs holds of her wrist, placing the flute back between her fingers. even paying proper attention to way he helps her fingers curl over the thin neck of the glass. ]

Is that to imply I would be so weak as to fall ill from a single glass? It looks like I am truly being underestimated. [ she's an astute individual, and so he's sure she reads through the lines. there's a furtive threat that lingers within the syllables of his words; perfectly hidden behind the slight curve of his smile. there's tension, as he refuses to draw back from her. his eyes seem to flicker to the corners of the room, before facing back on her.

both a habit and insurance. ] Or were you worried it was poisoned?

[ when you bring up the assassination plot holes yourself...

so it's fair to say he has zero plans of backing up. ]

[ right. there is the dinner party, after all. and crowds of people stunned into an oppressive silence from their crown prince arriving late into the third course, blood-smeared and feral in his rich brocade, trailing his animosity from the outskirts. it must be even more terrifying to see him sit himself next to some no-name nouveau riche daughter who may or may not be engaged to a duke that had simply declined his right to the throne where callisto regulus is now headed. if he ran her through now, it'd probably ruin everyone's appetite. the next two courses are also meat. what a tragedy.

no room to breathe then. callisto is not a man of subtlety. he seems like he deals in blood, not dealings, and likely takes more to be reasoned with than some trigger words and a finely drafted contract. lessons in the wynknight household have taught her just enough by now to control her kneejerk temper, the way she nearly gapes stupidly at callisto chugging her drink. but how to refuse unnecessary attention without somehow drawing even more of it? maybe not.

callisto's fingers are obscenely long, his hand dwarfing hers to an embarrassing degree. it probably bruises her wrist when he takes it, when raeliana is instinctively petulant at once, resisting awkwardly and futilely as the crown prince pries her tense fingers apart to fit her wine glass back into her grip.

too late to feign modesty for the sake of putting on a show. too late to salvage dignity or save herself the work it will take to silence the local newspaper from casting this interaction in an unfavorable light. too late to explain to noah that his fiancee isn't engaged in some explicit rendezvous with the prince.

that last one's a joke. after all, she might still be killed and that may be proof enough. ]

I wouldn't presume so erroneously... Our lord and liege is made of iron, isn't he?

[ silkily. she might be trembling. there's a sword still strapped to the crown prince's waist. the din of whispers stirring around them. blood on the glass in her hand and on the cuff of her dress where his hand had caught warm. the multitude of eyes on them, and those of her fiance from across the table.

it feels like a countdown, some large clockhand thudding heavy in an abandoned study where the body of an assassin is already cooling. she has no idea if someone has poisoned the wine, but callisto has just boldly proclaimed as such after drinking from her glass. it would be an irony and too much of a coincidence, but raeliana takes no chances, lifting the cup back in his direction, as if for a toast. ]

Being made of such mettle, I think Your Highness would be immune.

[ she parries, bringing the bloodied glass to her mouth to take a visible, dainty sip.

(it isn't poisoned, but imagine how funny it would be if they both dropped dead on the spot.) ]

[ they do say the dead make for rather poor witnesses. whether they desire to divulge the truth, or wag their ridiculous tongues with lies— none of it quite matters when they can't raise a single word from the grave. or that's been his experience thus far. being labeled the grim reaper of the imperial palace does have its perks, much like how his presence itself acts as a swift deterrent for any lingering insects.

there would be no disturbance. no interjection from the crowd on behalf of her honor. whether in her acquaintanceship or not, or even if they desired to get on the duke's good graces— everyone seems to know better, and know their place as those who simply belong in the crowd. however, that doesn't mean everyone's peripherals aren't secretly locked on on them; speculations likely rising in regards to their "relationship." they're picking apart every inch of their interaction... all the way down to their joined fingertips that share the same blood from the night's assassin. ... was this not actually a level of intimacy not many could hope to breach?

if it's a story they desire, it's a story they'll receive.

much like how a pendulum swings, once it begins its trajectory, it was difficult for it to come to a sudden halt, and so, callisto had every single desire to see it through. no, perhaps it would be more accurate to state that he had no desire of stopping from the very start.

she was nothing less of well-spoke and polite. nothing in her tone suggests any single thread of apprehension or fear. but, for how beautifully her words are crafted, her body ends up betraying her. as they say, there is no language more accurate and sincere than the body itself. even if that may have sounded like a line straight out of the most toxic of otomes— the point stands. ] Not only iron, but blood as well, my lady.

[ he says this while his eyes look straight to her throat. in reality, he's watching the way she drinks down what remains of its contents. ... and he can't deny the way his eyes widen ever so slightly. he was fond of such boldness. ]

Those lips of yours move quite well. [ while he hasn't been forthcoming with the source of his interest, he does give the tiniest and vaguest of hints into it. ] It's no wonder the lady is more popular than I am. [ after all, who were these assassins really after? did she really have a much larger target on her back than he did? is that even true? or is he saying this to gauge her reaction? ]

I thank you for the kind reminder. How could I forget.

[ iron and enough blood to stain her fingertips red where she's still shakily holding her wine.

smile for the crowd, sweetheart. the empire's infamous hellion princeling could take any manner of commentary the wrong way, but it's just as much the danger of the people too. fear might quash a minor scandal from being published, but nothing can really be done about the public opinion. an assassination or several could testify to that much.

so.

this isn't the place for that story for all that callisto's just shy of demanding for it at their shared dinner table... and in front of a crowd, no less. it's better than the alternative. he could have simply thrown her into a jailcell for questioning, or to the stocks if he wanted a more public spectacle. but the fact of the matter is, dead men tell no tales.

it must be why she's still alive. perhaps he only wants an interesting story. he's certainly trying to spin one with the way he phrases things... ]

And... somehow I really don't think that can be the case, my lord... though I should thank you for such high praise.

[ as she smiles a smile that's more pinched, her fingers twisting the flute of her glass until she worries it might snap.

wishing beyond all hope for some kind of slow-acting poison. because it would be preferable to this slow-acting interrogation that callisto seems intent to draw out. ]

For one thing, I don't think I can wear that color as well.

Although keeping the white might bring out the glamor of your hair and eyes... It's really a shame for you to have to cover it up.

[ you may want to wash up, and leave her to exit stage right, in no uncertain terms. ]

[ he does have to wonder what crosses the mind of a lady who appears so keen on remaining so fearless in the face of such imminent danger. except, is it really danger when he truly had all the intentions in the world to keep their exchange perfectly verbal? could the fault not lie with her and the way she manages to push against the right pressure points in which he had no choice but to react like a well-worked muscle. ]

Oh? Then you would be even more surprised to hear the other "rumors" I have heard. I only worry you may faint on the spot. [ are they rumors when they're words hastily regurgitated in their final hours? who can say? then again, it's clear he doesn't actually have as much insight as he'd like.

hence, this discussion that borders on interrogation. ] Speaking of covering "it" up, I could not help but notice a slight stain on your dress, my lady. It may have been when I took your glass. [ his bloodied gloved finger gradually points to the lace hem of her dresses collar area. ] It only seems fit that I offer you something to change into. What sort of host would I be, otherwise.

[ finally, he reveals part of his hand. clearly, it isn't the most tenuous as, but he figures it suits his intents and purposes just fine. if she wasn't willing to drop her mask in public, then perhaps in private...? yet there is nothing particularly professional about the way he seems to find pleasure in awaiting her reaction. ]

You would not turn down my goodwill, would you?

[ he makes a genial sort of bow, before holding his arm out for her...

surely she wouldn't reject him when so many eyes were on them? or so that's what his eyes seem to be saying. besides, is this his fault when it technically wasn't his idea? thank u, raeliana. ]

[ caught.

and let the records show that this icon is a poor choice to illustrate the visible and very obvious tic of her brow as her fluster and general sentiment of shitshitshit, all in panicked lower case, plays out inside of her mind's eye. the ducal house must hold some mighty fine etiquette lessons if she's still restraining reaction, her mouth a kept, shivering line as she thinks of the ways callisto could have very well drawn his sword and pressed its edge against her throat.

this is worse. a bloody finger pointed dead-center at her chest; the aureole of hellfire in callisto's expression; how he takes his sweet time to watch her twist and wriggle on the hook, letting her bleed out slowly instead of getting it over with.

this talk is going very badly if even noah wynknight can cut his losses, feigning(?) casual conversation with that bright, blue-eyed girl to his left in raeliana's peripheral as he leaves her to struggle on her own. at this early point, a contract doesn't hold enough weight. let his fiancee be accused of high treason before their engagement's been officially announced, all the better.

plans derailed, and just because she was in the wrong place at the right time. ]

... sure. [ in very, very clipped tones.

at least, before amending, maybe less than tenderly but proper, willing her hand from shaking as she places it daintily upon his bloody palm: ] You are too kind.

[ ... and really. was it that hard to admit that it was her drink, after all? asshole? she truly did risk getting poisoned along with him when she took that swig, not knowing if her drink had been tampered with after everything.

let it be known that she's capable of stupidity too. like now — holding her seat with her glove getting steeped in blood as she gives the crown prince time to reconsider this diversion. ]

Will you be calling a maid...?

[ a question that, despite the terror that must surely take hold of all of the hired help in the palace... still calls forth a maid to step forward from the sidelines, shivering in her apron, and yet, her training must be too ingrained to simply ignore the possibility of helping her masters.

your move, your highness. ]

[ apparently, it's said by many scholars that body language is the basis of most nonverbal communication. that the shift of ones weight from one foot to another, the movement of brows, the minute ways in which one's expressions gradually shift— they all tell a more accurate story than what meager words could offer. while nobles were polished and these lines are far more blurred and indistinct, it doesn't remove all the telltale signs. for example, apprehension, fear, and similar emotions were relatively easy to pick out no matter what conditions. or maybe his eye was well-trained when it came to those signs.

much like a predator to the smell of blood, he seems to encircle his so-called prey, all the more when she seemed so keen on escaping. it was a bit humorous to see how her suggestion could be flipped like this. now the question would be if she would relent, or risk it all in rejecting his "benevolence."

then, she agrees, and he does little to hide the way in which the corner of his lips pull upwards. as established, he wasn't subtle, and at this point, it's clear he doesn't even hide his ulterior motives. ] Wonderful choice. The night is young and it would be such a shame to head home when the festivities have barely started.

[ he takes her hand, leading her casually out of the dining hall. at first, he makes no move to call a maid, and yet when their fearful eyes happen to lock with his, he gives a nod. ] Of course, your comfort is my priority.

[ he then carefully places her hand on his forearm, as if asking her to hold on as he escorts her down the hall, maid in tow, thanks to her request. his brow seems to quirk at her as he looks between her and the maid. how does it feel to be the reason this maid is trembling? or so he seems to be asking with his eyes, as if it were entirely no fault of his.

this tension doesn't seem to drop even as they approach a part of the palace with far less foot traffic. the shadows casted by the artificial art seeming especially prominent as he waits for the servants to open the door. is this also him gesturing for them to wait outside? ]

Edited (when i hit enter too early) 2024-08-21 08:18 (UTC)

[ —not what she wanted, not at all, but if there's one thing she's finding out about callisto regulus, then it's the fact that he's not in it to give her what she wants.

so. what does she have that she could possibly leverage? good graces. a nobility's upbringing. a suspicious inkling that she should care less about her honor, and more about what will happen to her mortal life as they slip up and away from witnesses with a single helpless maid in tow. she's being made to poise with a hand tucked against the crown prince's arm, standing on ceremony. the tremor in her stupid fingers and the intimidation of his silky disregard for social graces shuts her up. the crown prince escorting a noble nobody to a parlor room? she doesn't have the luxury of telling him, thank you, just the maid will do, please do not stop your meal on my account before he's already leading them away from the dining table, and out of the fray.

and into something worse, no doubt. as always, she has the worst timing. too late to tell the prince to sit back down without it looking like a minor rebellion, and too late to do anything but hang on, fingers flexing uncertainly in callisto's sleeve as she casts one last glance at duke wynknight who is merely smiling at her placidly from his place at the dinner table.

that's fine. this is whatever. nothing at all like the full-blown panic attack she had going down these same dark halls earlier, looking at the pastiche artwork lining the walls, making a quick trip into an artillery room she had simply read and remembered was there, realizing she's being tailed and turning around just in time to point a gun at— ]

—are you going to be undressing me, my lord?

[ abrupt enough to be rude, but the way she suddenly clings to his arm could almost be coquettish...

... were... she... not kind of... glaring... and simultaneously trying to pull her trapped hand away even as they walk through the double doors that the servants have just opened. ]

That's... something that can be delegated... right?

[ the brief exchange of eye contract between raeliana and the duke wynknight himself was a bit enthralling. perhaps, a part of him wondered if this was enough to have prompted him for action. apparently not. but, it's commentary he decisively opts to save for another time. he keeps it on the tip of his tongue, and keeps it there until they move past the ornately crafted double doors. the servants end up closing it behind then, even the pitiable maid they have touted along waits outside, before he gives a calm, almost disengaged: ] Stay until I call for you. [ which they all but nod to. ... did he really have to emphasize the "i"?

just what was he expecting here?

for a brief moment, he almost looks purposely detached. it's a stark contrast against how animated he appeared in the dining hall when he was exhausting every bit of his acting abilities. there is no genial front anymore (though, it could be argued that his attempts were exaggerated enough that all such efforts could have easily been canceled out), and as soon as she practically glowers in his direction, he returns it with a nearly inaudible exhale.

with the door shut, he turns around. whether she keeps her grip over his arm or not, he moves to face her, and presses his hand against the door's surface; effectively trapping her between himself and the door. it was almost as if he were silently reiterating to her that she was truly abandoned here. almost as if he were attempting to physically prove to her that he had only given her the illusion of a choice.

there was only one outcome all along. though, she obviously chose the path of least resistance, and hence, he does shift gears. ] Unfortunately, I have no interest in stripping you for now. [ what does "for now" mean. nothing. surely, it's a minor jest. ]

The duke is quite heartless to leave his bride-to-be to fend for herself in the arms of another man.

[ that's a little more like it.

still, expectation doesn't especially decrease the intimidation. all of callisto's warm, saccharine-sweet reception simply melts to leave something cooler, resembling steel. a prince of iron and blood indeed. raeliana hardly has the time to feel her hackles rising before he's quickly turning on her and suddenly way too close.

closer still than when she had her arm linked and escorted. he walls her so fast, she doesn't quite realize she's still holding onto his sleeve, and it's only when the impact registers that her fingers feebly flex open, that she leans back against the door instinctively to make space between them that simply does not exist. ]

... ah.

[ very demure. very mindful. eloquence sure is a hard thing to parse when she has to suffer the indignity of dread and shame in equal parts at once.

dreading the diffuse ache of a sword that may find its way into her stomach eventually. feeling shame at the way she really knew better, but still found her way into exactly the situation she wanted to avoid. because callisto's terrifying from this distance with his sharp lines and lethal grace. even without the blood splatter, it's enough that he towers over her, making her incline her head just to regard him.

... maybe she tucks her chin in, just a little, to appear less defiant. ]

I'm... s-sure Duke Wynknight understands his place... and if Your Grace extends a courtesy, it would simply be prudent to — accept.

[ ... ok, but what's the point of putting on a brave face? what's the point of good manners?? none of these things work on a madman.

neither does accusatory deflection, but the adrenaline and the heartbeat pounding in her ribcage is a heady, suicidal distraction. ]

I don't think the honorable Crown Prince would be so deranged as to be interested in another man's fiancée, anyway.

[ ”duke wynknight understands his place.”

there was an awful lot for him to pick out from that statement. did the duke actually know his place? the small lift of the corner of his brow and the near inaudible huff of breath right against the top of her head likely indicated that he didn’t believe in that for a second. it doesn’t necessarily come from an acute doubt of the dukedom, but the clear concept that both the eckharts and wynknights were not to be trifled with, and even the imperial family knew that. it wasn’t nearly as vague as nobles would like to believe.

this appears to more impactful considering he is presently crown prince and not emperor.

but, the political landscape of the court aside, what strikes him about those words is the use of “duke wynknight” itself. while the lady could be considered under “duress,” it was an oddly unemotional title, wasn’t i? he supposed while it could be chalked up to her being in his presence rather than noah wynknight’s, it’s still a concept that remains stuck to back of his mind. this only seems to amplify at the mention of “another man’s fiancée.” ]

My lady, what an interesting turn of phrase. But, is that truly what you would like to lay your confidence in? Considering my reputation, what’s one more title— “deranged,” it does have a ring to it, doesn’t it?

[ so does his sword, or so he seems to say as he casts a cursory glance towards it, before it settles somewhere between her collar bone and where her pulse would be. or wouldn’t be. only once that tension pervades the atmosphere— cold, ruthless, and unforgiving— does he give a dark chuckle. ]

However, there is still something I desire from you.

[ he says, his finger now trailing against where the stain is. the touch itself is light, light enough where there is barely any pressure where his fingers toy with the lace. but, it’s clearly enough where just the warmth of his fingertips remain. ]

[ what a shame that she isn't privy to any of his keen insight... noah had his own reasons to ask her to say his name until it became unthinking reflex — but would familiarity really make that much of a difference? what is it to the crown prince that noah wynknight enters into a seemingly loveless marriage? although discord sewn in a noble's house that he would like to fall into ruin seems like something he would take some kind of petty pleasure in.

deranged. more or less.

so, no, raeliana can't leverage reputation. playing along in the dining hall had been a kindness — or rather, a momentary diversion that had coincidentally allowed the royal family's good breeding and mannerisms to be put on display under the brutal accent of gore. here is the empire's crown prince; here is the lauded warhero. showing off may have been part of it, but what's worse, is that he's having some goddamn fun. ]

... Having so many names and honors, n— no one would know how to address you, my lord.

... so...

[ sloppy work. it is terrifying to get leveled with a look in that order, how callisto's gaze scrapes at her with a knife's edge that she can almost feel despite the fact that his blade is still within its sheath.

or how she flinches — it's just his finger pressure over the lace along her sternum, and she's still shivering as if the blood there is blooming fresh from a cut from just the faint touch alone. the door's still solid at her back, and his half-lidded stare burns through her like a roseate flame, too fucking close— ]

Edited (embarrassInG don't look at me) 2024-08-24 10:38 (UTC)

[ — at which point, she throws both hands up, her face and ears streaked with red as she exclaims, not in the least bit quietly, ]

It's... u—under my skirt!!

[

???¿?????????????????? ]

[ it truly is shoddy work at best,

but why does it still manage to capture his attention in this way? much like reading a riveting novel or a particularly engrossing article, he can't tear his eyes away, nor his ears from processing each and every single syllable. even the practiced intonation of her words are like music to his ears; a carefully crafted melody. even the minute pauses she creates in between, where her lips remain perfectly agape, her brain clearly racking over ideas of how to spin the next false narrative of him being benevolent, generous, and other such attractive synonyms. all of which couldn't have been further from the truth.

... and all of which he knows she wouldn't mean a single word of.

she could even make lies seem alluring.

he's about to open his mouth, and ask her to explain these so-called honors without sparing a single detail. hoping that in the process of expounding she would yet reveal another vulnerability, another verbal misstep, but then ] Lady Raelia—

[ except, what on....????

??

he's thrown off for all but a minute, his hand quickly coming up to cup over her mouth. was she trying to create a scandal? considering he's all but put the nail in the coffin himself, he doesn't exactly have the right to question what motives she could possibly have for wanting to tarnish her own reputation alongside his, but he keeps his hand over her mouth even as he speaks. ] Under your...? [ his eyes drift down,

he didn't fully piece together those words from earlier, if just because even the way she raised her voice sounded so foreign to him. he seems to take a few moments to regain his bearings, before he releases his grip over her mouth. he clearly seems to be eyeing the hem of her dress.

is this really the route she wanted to go... ]

[ ...the nerve of this guy, clasping a blood-crusted gloved hand over her mouth, no matter how it's dried...

still. preferable, maybe, to the palpable tension that she could have sliced through with a (his) sword. here, he actually looks affected, a moment of humanity where he seems a little panicked and unpracticed and less like a princeling... all at the notion of getting caught in a scandal. if she weren't still tending to her neuroses and ill-timed adrenaline, she could almost feel some vague form of insult. ]

... A...

[ ah. no one is listening close on the other side of the door now, after an outburst like that? what could they possibly think? raeliana crumples against the door and callisto is still too close, and she knows he's eyeing the edge of her skirt as she tries to will her embarrassment somewhere outside of her body.

she's still got her hands lifted, less red than she is pale-faced now, as she keeps her voice low and calm, calmer, but not well enough to modulate tone, nothing like when she could get those syllables to flow like syrup at a dining table in front of a better audience.

how can she. ]

... a...

[ ah again, is the only thing anyone outside this room could possibly hear, and the smoking gun.

metaphorically, anyway. but callisto might've seen the real thing flash silver once in his peripheral, hours ago, and thought of it as a trick of the light when the hallways had been dark and it had been an ambush. dispatching more than a couple of men must be child's play to a soldier of his caliber. he could surely do it with his eyes closed and his focus fractured.

so missing the moment his sword felled a few bodies could just be that: inattention. though the wounds had been too clean for his work, and of course he must have seen it, being so close, and realizing for once, that the gun isn't being pointed at him. ]

...pistol.

I swear... I was gonna put it back...

[ instead, she tied the thing to her damn thigh using some drawstring she stole from a curtain... instead of just leaving it there... because she had to get back to the banquet on time...

this is how raeliana dies on her first playthrough: not by treason, but by inadvertently stealing from the royal armory because she was too stupid to realize fingerprinting probably doesn't exist in this era. ]

[ the juxtaposition of how intricately crafted her every single word of potential praise was in the dining hall is now eclipsed by a single phonetic sound of— "a." perhaps, if he weren't a touch offended, there was more humor to be found here. instead, he finds himself focused on her skirt, as she had so conveniently lured him towards.

considering his hand sinks lower, he makes sure to keep her pinned a bit closer to his own body. leaning in as his hand slides from the edge of where her dress ends, and gradually lifts it up towards her thigh. the material of her dress seems to bunch at his wrist as he feels the familiar cold of metal alloy and steel, he fingers grazing against the barrel. he releases the string that binds it against her body, and eventually grabs it out from underneath her skirt.

he half-wonders if her honesty came from the thought that if he had discovered it in any other terms, she would be just another corpse on the floor, joining the one in the room adjacent from them— or if there was another motive to her sincerity. he releases a huff, somewhere between finding the situation comical, and... absolutely ridiculous. ]

You need to speak up, my lady. This is how misunderstandings are formed. [ he does in her benefit, pull away just slightly, enough to remove the safety from the pistol and toy with it in his hands as he speaks to her. (why is this giving the same energy as sylus cleaning his gun as the mc studies at gunpoint). ]

... and I would truly hate to misunderstand you.

[ he isn't sure whether he expects the truth from her. if anything, perhaps, this also mapped out where they would go from here; much like branches to a tree, each one extending towards several differing directions. whichever it ends up being, he seems entirely poised and prepared for it.

after all, now he had both a gun and a sword. ]

[ that was a mistake.

her entire body rings with the thought. callisto presses in, and the heat of his frame isn't nearly enough to stop her shivering, the stupidly terrorized tremor that she's been trying to quell ever since she'd taken his arm in the dining hall.

he seems to like slower torture. for how quickly the crown prince's fabled temper can result in stonecold murder within seconds, callisto seems more in his element when he can take his time. at a dinner party with the entirety of the closest ducal influences at the table, silver-tongued and still outwardly gilded; with his hand under her dress and sweeping up her leg, his glove brushing warm against her thigh where she had tied the knot holding the gun, blistering and offensively unhurried.

it's an ornate piece meant more for decoration than real weaponry. there's an engraving of the royal crest that matches the dragon sitting proudly on an emblem that the crown prince wears on his regalia. if it's shot, there's no telling if the user wouldn't hit someone undeserving instead.

no one would think it when she'd nailed no fewer than three shots to the heart with it in a darkened room. ]

... Better I mention it before you found it some other way.

[ deflect. swallow her dread. ignore the way the bottom of her stomach drops at the click of the safety coming off, her eyes darting to his hand that does it. it wasn't the worst thing to admit when she wasn't sure where his hand would go after trailing her bloodied lace. and surely he'd remember that she was helping him and not hindering him in his(?) latest assassination attempt...?

studying at gunpoint with sylus is indeed the energy being brought to the function, but that was sexually charged while this... is... ]

... is that really what a man should say, having just had a hand under my dress?

[ hearing the diminutive sounds the mechanizations of the gun makes like its safety is locked, and swiftly unlocked in quick, practiced succession— he has to wonder where the lady would have learned to have such a good shot. precisely because it was more decor than it was an efficient weapon, he presumes such proficiency doesn't happen over night. he looks idly at his own hands, letting the satisfying clicks break in between her rather lackluster clarification.

... is this not sexually charged? (it's probably not). ]

What you give me is mere fact, not an explanation. [ his eyes then sweep back towards her dress, if just because she did bring it up with her own fickle lips, did she not? it seems to remain there, no hint of apology for having laid hands on her body in a way that others would have clearly demanded some type of recompense. gradually, the facts of the corpse in the other room, his own hand in everything, and her presence now seems to come together. albeit, not quite so seamlessly, but enough for him to dissolve some of the initial tension with his own hands. ]

Is my hands on your body more of a concern than your life? That is not a threat, for the record. I am saying that our enemies could be one and the same, and they could be attempting to listen to us even now...

[ ominously, he remains silent for a moment. he doesn't sense anyone beyond the help at the door, and for a moment there could be what seems to be some slight semblance of relief in his eyes. ] Which doesn't appear to be the case, but my point still stands.

If you disliked it so much, could you not have also shot me dead by now? [ callisto offers easily, as if this were an easy solution amongst many. (it's not). but, he seems to find the humor in it. which probably only raises the psycho index. ]

I—

[ click — and she flinches again, the corner of her eye twitching as he makes a game of the potentially loaded weapon at his fingertips. decoration or not, it isn't as if it isn't lethal. maybe it's even more so when the thing hasn't had the upkeep of something actively brought into the battlefield, gone through its safety checks and balances to be fitting for real use. ]

... would think that—

[ click, again, and as much as callisto's getting some satisfaction out of this entire ordeal, raeliana's beginning to think these veiled threats to her life are starting to lose their novelty real fast.

funny. a man can only threaten her so much. the casual slide of his gaze towards the edge of her skirts is quickly dismissed as much as he makes it arrogantly dismissive — gone, then, is the casual joint narrative that is the crown prince trying to seduce the duke's fiancée or vice versa. her delicate sensibilities play second fiddle to, well, the rest of whatever sensibilities she possesses that tell raeliana that having some batshit crazy member of the royal family playing with a gun in front of her is just plain bad news. ]

... explaining in front of eavesdroppers would—

[ —is he still clicking. she has no time to really contemplate that vague sense that something's changed, how there's not even a sense of parade rest to callisto's bearings, when she reaches out and clasps his wrist in both of her hands just to get him to aim that muzzle away from her fucking body??? the nerve??? ]

Can you not? And how can you just accuse me of even thinking of committing regicide just because you piss me off!?

That is dangerous, my la— [ when she leans forward like that, his fingers press right against the trigger.

...

but, it remains jammed, the pressure of his fingertips on it entirely for show. the safety fortunately locked at the time of her "attack" (or so he will label it in his mind). ] My, that's quite the ferocious look you wear. [ finally, finally...

the veil she once donned seems to have slipped off her countenance completely, and he seems to relish in delight for it. if it's not already perceptible by the amused expression plastered on his face, it may even visible in the way his shoulders seem to slacken ever so slightly. it appears she wasn't only a great marksman, but was also quite accomplished in reading between the lines. at least enough to be aware of the invisible threads linked to his bloodlust.

considering they've both dropped their masks, hers of being the proper lady and fiancée the the duke wynknight (jk, she's unfortunately still his fiancée, even if he had placed his hands upon her like), and his of being the hellion of the royal family. okay, maybe neither has been wholly done away with, but it's clear there's a shift in their dynamic; invisible to the eye, but palpable enough to change the atmosphere between them.

... and apparently, the physical space as well. not that they had left much of it between him frisking her down, and even now as one of his hands seem to have naturally found itself on the small of her back, as if attempting to impede the reach of her arms. ]

Is it an accusation when you have all but helped me pull the trigger? In my defense, you suddenly leapt up on me. [ ... and even now, they're in this rather questionable position, her hands clasping onto his wrist. ] What would your dearest duke have to say about this?

[ all roads lead back to noah... our next au. ]

[ no way this man nearly killed her and then called her ferocious like it's her fault.

but at least the safety's back on. it probably shouldn't make a lick of difference. the prince could probably do more with a sword, anyway, and probably enjoys the tactile sensation of an edge sinking in somewhere soft. thankfully she can take a moment to stop thinking about it somehow. with all of callisto's poor-fitting civility peeled back, looking, for once, more in his element without the looming threat of his own early demise waiting in the wings.

still, it's no real chance to drop her guard despite whatever's changed between them. her heartbeat's still ratcheting wild with the echo of the safety catching from the pistol trigger, and callisto's got his hand splayed wide on the small of her back for whatever reason. she's also holding his hand?

it isn't a good position to be in for two people avoiding a scandal. but she doesn't relinquish her grip, her mouth pursing in thought as she considers if what he says is truly a threat. ]

About what? Will you tell him that I "leapt" at His Highness, the honorable Crown Prince?

[ would noah try to square up with callisto? maybe in this au in another thread.

meanwhile raeli highly doubts it. ]

I don't know. You likely heard of the rumor that he had to pay a hefty sum because of my previous engagement.

Since it's come to this, do you think he'd try to kill me or you?

[ there's an invisible challenge behind her words. they're less questions as much as he feels equally interrogated for loosely defined crimes he has yet to commit. placing aside his personal interpretations, he does find her courage all the more spellbinding, especially when faced with their proximity. he wonders if the threats have simply lost their novelty, or if she was joining the ranks of him being the hellion of the royal family, eckharts mad dog, and now...

the former duchess-to-be who has clearly lost her mind. whether that's the angle she is aiming for, or not, he seems to find it ( rofan ml voice ) interesting. engrossing, really. so he keeps their present position, his fingers move, as if tapping her back in some form of impatience. is this an injunction, or a whim? unfortunately, the lines for both tend to blur, but he'd argue this has less to do with authority and more to do with dissecting her intentions.

his eyes fall on her hand as he speaks: ] Would you call this something else?

[ his tone is a subtly more casual, as if he had dropped some pretenses along the way. ]

You do realize you are speaking to one of the wealthiest men in the empire... [ look at his golden hair, raeliana. this is the sign of being filthy rich per penny (citation needed). ] I could offer higher for you, if that's what you asking for. I don't necessarily like the idea of placing monetary value on human life, but it looks like that isn't the case for you.

[ clearly toying with her, but he figures if she brought her prior engagement into this. it wasn't without purpose. was there more to it than they knew on the surface? it's not that he hasn't heard the rumors himself, but that's the thing about rumors, isn't it? they barely hinge on half-truths, and he'd much rather believe in the gutsy woman before him. ]

—I'm not asking for.

[ and that certainly isn't a full sentence... but it spills out of her without a drop of polish or good manners when it seems like callisto is well on his way to making some kind of hilarious misassumption.

although he isn't exactly wrong. approaching noah had been a business venture for all intents and purposes, weighing her life on a scale where the other side was balanced with gold coin and a man's whimsical favor. and that's regardless of what she knows. callisto doesn't like the idea? implying that raeliana does and doesn't find the fact kind of tiresome already: that everything in this world seems to come at some sort of cost. ]

... that is, I wouldn't dare dream to impose upon your good graces any further than I have already. [ she says, sweeter, with her hands around his wrist and directedly pointing the gun even farther to the side and away from her general direction. ] If it's all the same to you, I actually don't mind this narrative.

Something like... that the Crown Prince didn't like what he found under my skirt?

[ even if he seems very much in favor of not letting go of the gun.

still. forgive. forget. they survived some assassins and surely that's the last they'll see of those...? ]

[ the clipped words that could barely constitute as a sentence makes him raise a curious brow. but, he doesn't quite interject yet. more intrigued in seeing what she would conjure up next. would they be words steeped in false niceties and obligatory politeness? or would they be much like her prior words? threats disguised as queries? even he isn't beyond inferring what her words actually meant, even if his own mouth seems to speak of nothing but favorable interpretations.

he feels her moving the gun slightly away from herself, and he doesn't fight against her touch. after all, what crown prince doesn't properly repay the bravery of those in their empire? ] ... If you haven't heard, I treat my own people rather well, so think nothing of it. [ said with all the intentions in the world to remain purposefully dismissive. ] Unless, you're scared of some other invisible repercussions?

Then I would be envious that there's something you fear that much. [ something beyond him, that is. it's less a threat and more of a observation. he says this as his eyes fall back to waist, which he has no intention of releasing. ]

I'd argue it's quite the opposite. Maybe he was a little too fond of what he's discovered.

[ he doubts it's the last they'll see of said assassins, and if the lady were much like a omen of death herself, fanning the flames of murderous intent— then who was he to not enter the fray himself? ] Yes, we'll go with that story. I have a feeling the lady and I will have to become quite well-acquainted.

[ he's decided for her. you're welcome, raeliana... ]

[ ... in an alternate route, in another unfortunate series of self-sabotaging events that no one in this timeline will ever know about, the heroine of the story first captured callisto's attention with a single confession of love.

raeliana, however, is not built for the pretense of romance and only has the misfortune of being a good shot (to the heart) to blame. callisto, meanwhile, avails himself of the opportunity that her focus elsewhere gives him. his hand's poised somewhere along the slant of her waist and steady, and yet she's still looking at the gun in his hand and the fact that its safety was disengaged sometime in all of their talking.

it isn't that his hand isn't warm — broad and solid and reassuring; and still, a killer's hand — but this is a dance that she's accustomed to by now.

literally. noah's hand had wandered in much the same way while the waltz was hammered into her clumsy form during her daily lessons. here, she doesn't think of him. she's caught in another man's arms and still thinks very clinically of it. the lack of revelry or debauchery in callisto's small section in the story somewhat helps: the emperor must always be flawless. no ruin, besides her death, was possible to her here.

...

even if he does seem tickled by the breath of scandal that'll follow them outside of this room. because he keeps talking and her eyes dart up at his face, accusatory and a little wild to be looking like that without filter, without nearly enough arm strength to hold him back should he push the pistol to where an old blood splatter's marked a laced target dead center on her chest. ]

Then... am I yours? Your Majesty.

[ my own people — a comment that he means in earnest, but what of the old nobility? besides the point. callisto's attention glitters not with gold, but with an edge of steel: it may be less of a threat, but it still is. ]

If we mean to be more than acquainted, then you should know: I am very afraid of you. [ he wouldn't know it, with that tone. ] I'm not sure what I might have said otherwise, that you'd think to be envious... But the both of us say a lot of things. This must be how misunderstandings are formed.

So you should make it very clear to me what it is you mean.

[ as her hands fall from his wrist, one at a time. ]

As I would truly hate to misunderstand you.

[ it takes all but one single individual to create a ripple in which eventually casts into a tide at sea.

except, there was a large chance that this was not a change anyone would revel in aside from callisto. a route best left unventured in the present. had she done anything remotely close to profess her false feelings for him, he'd surely have used it as further justification for the hand on her back, and the proximity of their bodies. it's funny how no one realizes how loud one's breath is, or how warm the human flesh was. much like one forgets how vivid the color red runs below their skin.

except, he's not exactly consumed with any intrusive thoughts of unbridled violence in the present. unless, it's the shot the lady herself had taken prior to this whole debacle. perhaps, killing the assassin right before his very eyes was not so dissimilar to a confession, actually. ]

Is there a single person in this empire who isn't mine? [ unless you run into technicalities.

but, it's obvious his words carry a certain dryness. it was clear they both had their own fair share of issues. while callisto didn't place a whole lot of stock in rumors, he did believe in the information that occasionally came across his desk in the form of concise reports; ones slipped onto his desk in utmost secrecy, often mixed into the daily expense reports and other such political dribble. perhaps, that's why despite how suspicious he may have initially been, he also finds himself... a bit invested. not in a wholly sympathetic sort of way, per se. but, maybe an emotion that mimicked some loose shred of it existed.

however, he secondary statement is enough for him to forgo this topic... ] How could I not know when you tremble like a wet dog.

[ in regards to her fear. said matter-of-factly, not exactly meant to be an insult, as much as a colorful description of how he saw her. (he doesn't actually).

when her wrists come back down, he also draws his hand lower. the safety clicks back on, as he casts the gun to side, letting fall to ground with a thud. the sound of its solid barrel sliding against the marbled floors. ] I don't believe we are misunderstanding one another, however? At least, I thought I was very clear in wanting to know you better. [ just in case she takes this as a moment to slip away, he does press her body flush against his. ]

A shared secret and a debt repaid. What else holds two people closer?

[ as partners, that is. but had he made this more convoluted? perhaps, but he doesn't seem the slightest bit remorseful. ]

[ an exception then.

well, there are worse things than being possessed. he could curse her noble upbringing with the same breath he seems to speak of the glory of the empire he represents, a strange juxtaposition between a shining figurehead executioner and a man that seems invested enough in the people. it blunts his sharp edges and relaxes her somewhat — even if the metallic clatter of the gun skipping across the floor is startling enough to keep her on alert.

something like that, anyway. she keeps her gaze steady and that stops her shivering at once. nothing he says is a threat anymore, but a dog would take careful note of their differences and defer where necessary. ]

There is nothing you wouldn't be privy to, Your Majesty, should you ask anything of me.

[ —though the lack of a boundary, the way he keeps on leaning in to her, until there are too many points of contact where their bodies nearly touch... is a little too much for her to compute as anything besides antagonistic.

that besides, he's warm, and his face is suddenly too close, and raeliana's pulse comes a little quicker as she does try to yank her entire body away, a short jerky step that slams her back against the door because, oh right, that's still there, isn't it— ]

... wait. Debt?

[ incredulous, as she dares her palms against his chest, ignoring the singe of powder burns along her fingers and the fact that ash could leave a mark too expensive for house wynknight to launder. ]

What do you mean "repaid"?

[ "There is nothing you wouldn't be privy to, Your Majesty, should you ask anything of me."

per usual, the lady oscillated between speaking frankly, and with words any royal would be beside themselves to hear. which imperial wouldn't see the appeal of equal parts flattery and an invisible touch of an unspoken promise of honesty. except, callisto didn't often believed in the latter. he discovered the more forthcoming one attempted to be the surface, the more they kept tightly against their own metaphorical chest. perhaps, so deeply wedged in there that even iron would be unable to pry it open.

except, in those cases, he felt their intentions were made so clear on their features. greed was difficult to mask, as was murderous intent. especially for someone akin to callisto who was basically raised on the sensation. the lady's innermost wants... seemed to elude him, and yet he didn't exactly dislike it. a common theme through the night. a complication he didn't quite expect, much like how her words once more devolve into a more visceral reaction.

their closeness, whether literal or figurative, seems fleeting at best. ]

[ she truly is laying her hands on his body, huh?

the push against his chest is barely anything, but when he looks at her lithe, thin limbs, it's not exactly a surprise. while he is pushed an almost comical margin, he releases small chuckle. ] Is that not where this conversation was going, Temporary Duchess-to-be? You were basically begging me to repay your debt. [ what is any webtoon storyline without an ml that steamrolls and operates on very bold, very audacious assumptions? ]

Why else would you entrust your everything to me? [ her body, her secrets.

even if in an entirely different context. he eyes her fingertips briefly, and in light of their almost sooty appearance, he does dig out a handkerchief. pulling away from her ever so slightly, if just to permit him to draw it out from his pockets and sliding it over between her palms and his chest. ]

[ she truly is laying her hands on his body—

shut the hell up, omniscient narrative, his hand was sliding platonically up her thigh like a dozen tags ago. ]

In what way am I begging—?

[ elegance and refinement make the core backbone of their respective standings, speech carefully civilized so as to convince the world of their nobility, their kindness, sweetness and cleverness.

or so it goes.

no one would know it from the nervous babble of a girl who's quite possibly halfway to insane if she's considering asking the future leader of the empire if he's lost his bloody mind. but as it's probably not politically expedient to commit treason in such an anticlimactic manner, she kills that thought on her tongue, and zips her lips into a thinning line as her fingers dig ashen into the handkerchief that callisto smoothly, s(n)ootily slips between her hand and his decorated torso.

hiccoughing, then. ]

... in any case. It's a debt that my husband-to-be will surely... pay... for the sake of... love...

[ could she sound any more genuine...? while she's pressed flush against the supposedly sagacious crown prince and making a face like she's trying not to sneeze. the debt exists only because she's saving her own hide and hair from her murderous ex-fiancé, but callisto doesn't need to know that. ]

If Your Highness insists on the repayment of any kind of debt tonight, then...

Perhaps I'll take the change of clothes that you had offered.

[ the omniscient ~~reader~~ narrator sees all 👁👁

much like how it's quite clear to callisto that despite the lady's best efforts, the more she speaks... the more she seems to dig her proverbial grave ever deeper. if it was once a shallow unmarked grave, it is now deep enough to lay an entire casket and a few large personal items, at that. as if the wedge the final decorative headstone in— ]

Love?

[ whatever remarks he may have been ready to deploy in light of her beliefs seems to fall to the waste side from that word alone. there's a lot of thoughts that seem to bubble beneath the surface, as well as just as many questions. but, beyond that: ] Very well, let us get you changed, and we will finish our conversation from there. [ he steps back, permitting a gap of space behind her now for him to open the door by a small sliver.

his chest is still against her, and this is probably a compromising position that the is definitely walking in on. but, it's an important piece in light of his next words, said almost painfully slow. as if it were as much of a threat as anything else he's said this night. ] I would very much like to hear about this "love" you speak of. [ ah, yes...

before he leaves he does walk over to the room, picking up the gun, before placing it against one of the guards still nearby the door. as if asking them to take care of it. whether she likes it or not, he remains posted outside the door, waiting for the maid to eventually resurface with raeliana changed into something ... horrifically matching to his own bloodied attire. ]

[ ok, kim dokja

so the story goes, all of this in easy procession, at the merciless whimsy of the empire's crown princeling.

without ammo, without a word in edgewise, raeliana is ushered into some other inner room by the quivering maid that she's somehow lost all sympathy for the moment she helps strip her out of her blood flecked dress without preamble. it must have been expensive — from a designer with a waitlist stretching out for close to a year — but even its decorative frills and filigree pale to the exorbitant decoration of whatever outfit that callisto somehow had waiting in the wings, gallingly familiar, and glittering with the same gilded facets that made up his current uniform.

it fits her, surprisingly, with little alteration. her old dress, speckled sadly and wrinkled, gets carried out by the maid to never be seen again.

that's fine, this is okay, never mind the alarm bells still ringing loudly in her damn skull as she steps out of the room to see callisto patiently waiting for her, caked in blood and just a little darker with the shadows casting about his face and hair. ]

... your generosity knows no bounds, Your Majesty.

[ a curtsy for show, because there are guards now and they're very much not alone anymore, and it would do them both a whole lot of good to remember that fact than for him to drag her into yet another room for "privacy" while the empire's rubies are glinting from the breast pocket of the dress that she is somehow now wearing. ]

I will have this dress laundered and sent back to the palace tomorrow evening...

[ not kim dokja...

considering he doesn't hear any noises of protest, or the sound of some foreign force being utilized (i.e. another gun she may have pilfered from wherever else in the palace walls, or perhaps in self-protection)— he takes it as a positive sign. for such a fearless lady, one who could stand before him and drop her façade in a type of bold-faced stance against him, she was surprisingly docile at times; almost as if she were carefully weighing her options, and delicately deciding to which battles she would feign surrendering. while it made her sharp witted and clever, it also made her... horrifically suspicious to most.

even more knowing she won the heart of a duke that was rather renown for his...

well, no matter. it seems she's already accepted her fate in that dress.

when she reemerges, his eyes seem to trail over her. as he thought, the empire's dresses leave a lot to imagination and yet very little at all, considering he still remembers his touch on her. hence, he had no real doubts she would fit it just fine. ] As you can see, I have no need for a dress. [ it's now that he finally dismisses the rest of the servants. he draws ever closer to her for every step they take in the opposite direction.

his voice is soft, as if produced just for the two of them. ] If you really feel burdened by it, you can consider it my own attempt at making sure this dress didn't fall into the hands of someone undeserving. [ throwing shade at the empress was as easy as breathing, just as it is in having someone complicit to his complaints. is it his intention to tie her to them as an accomplice to these treasonous conversations, or something else entirely? ]

Also, [ mentioned like an after thought. ] accept the invitation I will send to the Duke's residence as soon as tonight.

[ ... all of that time spent to wrangle her into a dress that clearly belongs to somebody else, and callisto hasn't bothered to shed a single bloody piece of his uniform in the interim.

which is fine. which means they match. which means that callisto drops a susurrated murmur into her ear and raeliana feels it coil down from that point to some place around her throat like a snake. there are only a few members of the royal household who'd own such a fine garment and it isn't exactly promising that raeliana's avoiding the crown prince's swordpoint just to fall on the blade of the empress instead.

if she's right, callisto's doing her a disservice worse than death. if she's wrong... well, it's something she'll have to account for later. because she falls into step at the crown prince's side, and in her matching dress, it likely looks worse than when he'd swept her from the dinner floor with her arm tucked against his. ]

Your Highness must certainly like to party.

[ not an immediate refusal, though that's just as far from an agreement. ]

Is there cause to celebrate something else that can't be done tonight?

[ at a moment like this, it'd be impossible to ignore the impact of a simple garment. except, there was nothing "simple" about what either of them donned. each piece appeared to be crafted with the sole purpose of immediately capturing the eyes of everyone who had managed to land even a cursory glance towards them. similar to how a soldier was impeccably fitted with armour on the frontlines, their matching attire mimicked a similar intention. except, perhaps... their "battles" couldn't be any more different.

especially in contrast to what sounded curiosly like a refusal in his eyes (no, it definitely was one for all intents and purposes). anything that wasn't flat out agreement and "i'm flattered, your highness" was much the same, after all. ]

You could say because of someone's blunder, [ said as if there was no possible way that he contributed to her being here. ] I could hardly enjoy it to its fullest extent. It's quite a shame, really. Perhaps, that is simply the price of being a proper host. [ the word proper being appropriately stressed here by the way he holds his arm back for her, carefully touching her hand and attempting to place it against his forearm. ]

Do you not think a celebration should be more intimate?

[ ... alas, yet another contender in the running of worst things the crown prince has dared to say to her face, ad hoc.

but here, in a long hallway lined with paintings of golden royalty and armored guards at hidden corners, she can't exactly react outward the same way she can in a private room. raeli schools her expression into the scant twitch at the corner of her mouth, and titters with the kind of gentle laughter that the noblewomen of present time usually use while chatting over tea, possibly while delivering a soft quip of humor that is in no way, shape or form intent to ruin someone's life.

of course not. callisto's intentions are pure and so must be hers. no need to overthink what should be taken at face value. ]

I suppose that depends on what we're celebrating.

[ the melodious cadence of the crown prince's voice carries towards the lit gallery where the crowd's conversation makes a constant din; the rust of dried blood in the air is muddled by the sudden waft of roasted meats and caramelized desserts from what must be another full course of a feast.

whose birthday was it again? or was it a holiday that brought her to the palace? if raeliana was killed, would her family then cease to celebrate?

if the crown prince was killed, would it simply cease to exist? ]

If not for the holiday... then I think it's enough that we're alive and well, Your Highness. [ even if... that's still tenuous. when her fingers land hesitantly back on callisto's arm and she's looking more like a gilded accessory in the dress that he's forced upon her. ] And I wouldn't want to impose yet another function on your behalf...

[ translation: please don't send a private invitation to the palace while i'm staying at my future husband's home. ]

If we celebrate appropriately tonight, that should... give you the intimacy you're looking for. No?

[ the way she keenly analyzes each and every single situation and tempers her reaction is not unlike what he's seen in certain duke's daughter in many ways. perhaps, she may have just been as much as a mad dog and society had carried on utterly unaware of this possibility. does that make her mask all the more stabilized, or has there been no actual opportunity in which she was able to express this side of herself— unbridled and free of judgment. funnily enough, he guesses the bullet she shot would have been the only one who could testify to the truth. but, just as dead men told no tales, the lead is all but lost in fragments within a cold corpse.

was his thoughts getting much too graphic? he can barely pause to mull it over as her statement fills the space between them. it gets a small huff. ]

Oh? Are you discounting the third celebration of the month. Rather dismissive of you. [ has there actually been that many celebrations. probably not to this scale, but one gala blurs into another, and in reality, he's sure they both realize that all these details were inconsequential to the actual heart of the matter. ]

My lady, it looks like you still have yet to learn... quietly accepting is normally the polite thing to do. [ ... ] Then are you planning to sleep at the palace? [ the illusion of choice... ] No? [ lol.

on the bright side with their steady pace, the sounds of the banquet hall become all the more audible. the dulcet tone of mild conversation and the occasional murmur that could sound curiously sound like a mix between laughter and a sound someone may make whilst attempting to spare some sympathy. maybe this is why callisto seems to gradually slow in step, as if to say he wasn't about to round the next corner or the next without her response. ]

[ ... didn't he say he wanted to talk about love earlier?

something that raeliana has scathingly filed away as inconsequential. because the gravity with which callisto's attitude had changed in that split-second before she was made to change into something less bloody was odd but quickly dismissed: just another drop of dread in a vast ocean of unease that had already existed from the very beginning.

but their idle conversation brings it right back to the forefront. the crown prince's favor seems hard-won and worse, it's fickle. saying the wrong thing at the right time could change his opinion of her at the drop of a hat, his temporary affection like the expensive garment glittering on her body — easily given and stripped away.

here, a princeling's lesson in nobility. look at his magnanimity, the polished and exalted warhero, extending lessons in etiquette to the young lady of a rising noble house's influence.

...

bullshit. he's just having fun trying to get a rise out of her. ]

Quiet acceptance, is it...

[ what are they even talking about... right within earshot of a banquet and the guards stationed at the doors. too far to really discern the topic, but close enough to see the matched pair, the rubies on raeliana's torso twinkling in the same light as callisto's eyes on her. ]

My, if that's really the nature of your invitation, then I don't think politeness is what you really want from me.

[ no. not in private, when he was gauging her as a real and possible threat. not in the dark, with assassins in their midst and the belief that they could've been for either of them. someone more polite would've been less likely to draw a gun.

the illusion of choice. into the banquet and into the light, and it'd paint raeliana in the same red that's still stark and bloodied on callisto's uniform. the dress has likely been the talk of noble ladies long after the late empress had passed away, and everything the empress consort would wear in the years after would only pale in comparison. callisto had made a whimsical if not strategic choice, usurping a rising ducal house's vote against the second prince's faction in one fell swoop. or maybe he's just fond of making enemies? it's hard to say. noah's not going to be happy.

... no matter what. because the second alternative, in front of these guards with eyes that see and mouths that talk: ]

If so, I'm surprised you'd think I'd sleep at all.

[ and she'll call his bluff. an emperor must always be flawless. ]

[ what was better than biding one's time?

akin to an executioner who sharpens the blade of the axe they drop, or those who affectionately craft a noose for one's neck... who doesn't revel in the moment in which they've all but showcased what they're truly capable of. even monsters had pride.

as far as he knew, their talk on love was an inevitability rather than an idea that could or couldn't come to fruition. a conversation that was set to happen regardless of the quiet trepidation it may have sparked. if he had any say in it, he would have fervently argued that the apprehension it brought forth may have been more delectable than the conversation itself; tantalizing in all the right ways, especially when he can see weigh her down, no different than the lush fabric and jewels on her dress.

the more she rotated, flipped, and upended his words in her head, the more satisfaction he garnered on his end.

unfortunately, it looks like she had no intentions of giving him that, however. she remains impervious to his attempts at chipping away at her exterior, attempting to see her in all her unrestrained glory. maybe he envies the assassin she put a bullet in. ]

If it isn't politeness I desire from you, what do you think it is that I truly want? As you can see, I am not especially lacking in anything. [ he gestures to her and her full display of what all the wealth in the empire could purchase so readily. the crushed gemstones against the fabric giving it the illusion of sparkling even in the dimmest of lighting. the glittering pales to that of her steadfast bravery. bravery, which is only amplified as she seems to throw out her on bait.

...

her chuckles darkly, letting the doors of the banquet draw open as the servants bow their head, as if welcoming them back into the familiar light. making no secret of his words, he raises his voice, enough for it to cut through some of the nearby whispers. ] Then can I take that as permission that you have no desire to sleep tonight? [ how was that for a scandal. how much more could the duke despise him and all his ploys. while it may be his own reputation that is being tarnished alongside hers (and truly, to whose benefit?), for once, he doesn't seem to mind. the emperor must be flawless, even amongst rumors he's all but created himself.

perhaps, raeliana was the perfect piece to complete this celebration, after all. ]

[ ... what a misstep.

to what end, raeliana can only consider as her valiant attempt at composure cracks at the edges of her smile and eyes. it's almost noble. compared to callisto's years of well-bred mannerisms and training, raeli's only had a fraction of it in a crash course upon waking up in another world. that she only falters now would almost be commendable. a hairline crack in smooth marble that only callisto can see by way of proximity.

he's just a little too close. she's had to fix her expression more than once tonight to have had some practice, but there's just something about the crown prince deciding to act uncharacteristically that's bringing the hairs at the back of her neck to stand on end. her smile's nervous; he's close enough to know that. her fingers tighten a little on his arm, but she isn't hanging close enough for the gesture to seem... that... intimate...(?) ] O-oh, how could I deny Your Highness anything? [ ... wait, no, wording, raeliana. ] Rather than permission, I'd say that it's simply a humble invitation.

To deny or accept as Your Majesty sees fit.

[ her sweet airs, the light grace with which she speaks... all still shaky with this newfound revelation that callisto is decidedly less worried about this certain aspect that he can control about his reputation. a violent warhero and a flirt? perhaps he's figured there are worse things for an emperor-to-be.

or so it goes. now within the grand dome of the dining room, the ballroom, the guests and their merrymaking, there's nowhere else to hide. callisto's still regal even when draped in dried blood, the gold of his head and ornaments catching in the gleams of chandelier light. he's a glittering spectacle with his gold-spun hair and nothing else could possibly distract from it... save for the fact that raeliana's pure white dress is a pale, stark contrast, crushed gemstones twinkling in winks of red as her train flutters across the ballroom floor.

it could just be coincidence. callisto had neglected to change because it wasn't a priority. he hadn't purposefully kept the blood on him just to highlight the change of raeliana's clothing, or to ensure that every eye is on this infamous dress with rubies that match the color of callisto's eyes.

of course not. ]

Is it a dance that you want? [ it's a question that might sound a little rude when she's ducking her head somewhat. noah's no longer at the table. she only needs to look outward to see another pair of eyes on her and it takes a bit of nervy wandering before her gaze finally lands somewhere chin-level instead of meeting callisto's eyes outright. ] Or a bigger spectacle?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

💗 - 2%

now you see me in my true form

a true meme monarch

i don't deserve this title 🥺

at least keep the crown 👑

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