ROYALTY / 親王

"we're  alright,  we've  been  checked.  but  what  of  you,  have  you  ---  "  gods,  they  couldn't  finish.  if  jingyi  was  hurt  again  .  .  .  "i'm  sorry  i  lost  sight  of  you.  jingyi,  i'm  so  sorry."

tears prickle at the back of their eyes, their heart continues to rattle inside their chest, hitting the walls of their ribs, causing them to shake where they stand. the relief is like a breath taken after holding one's breath for hours, and although it should not bring any tears, it does. they fall down pale cheeks, a choked sob as their grasp on dexian's shoulder tightens. the what-ifs are almost paralyzing if not for the older's presence, and jingyi tries to take a breath- and then another one. one step in front of another, dragging feet through mud and ash. "you're okay? you're- okay." a question or a statement, mixed into one, sudden gratitude for whatever's watching them above. as long as they're safe- dexian and gwyneth, safe and in one piece, jingyi can take whatever else it throws at them. what if dexian had fallen in the chaos? what if they hadn't had anyone to help him up? the thoughts make their breath falter again, and a fresh burst of tears falls down their face. "nothing to be sorry for — nothing— you're here- you're safe." this embrace is less violent, as they take another step and pull their sibling close, head burying in their shoulder, holding them as if they are children again and jingyi's had a nightmare. a wince is hidden within the movement itself. "that's all i need. i was- i was so afraid." their hands on dexian's back tighten into fists, bunching up the fabric in their grasp. as the adrenaline begins to settle, the bruises and their back begin to hurt- yet they couldn't care less. "can we go back to our chambers now? all of us — and- stay there for a while?"

although there is less distance between them now than there had been weeks ago, jingyi's stuck between deciding how much they can reveal, and how much they should hold back. they're usually quiet around others who are not family, lips tight shut instead of talking about their honest thoughts, not trusting anyone with it, lest they use it against them. therefore, with gwyneth, after they hear their words, they find themselves standing at a crossroads. they can lie and agree, or speak their truth. the silence stretches on, and the frustration that's already built within the cavity of their chest pushes the truth upwards instead of a lie. "i would rather all of us be alive." it's quiet, almost petulant — their anger isn't directed at them, but the statement that hangs around their necks like a noose. a decision made, a decision that cannot be unturned. they close their eyes shut, lips pursed, head rolling behind to rest on the back of their chair. they take a moment, and then another one. they would take all the time in the world if they had it. they don't. gwyneth's words are full of sorrow; they feel it, and they still cannot stop themselves from disagreeing. opening their eyes, they turn to them, feeling much too like a child for a reason they cannot fathom. "i- i know you won't agree with this- dexian doesn't." and although jingyi is sure gwyneth already knows, they still speak their mind. perhaps it's another olive branch, perhaps it's the image of their chest open to say — i'll share my actual self with you now, do you really want it? "i don't mind being forgotten. there is too much of a toll to be paid to make our name, to put it in the books of history — and for what? for someone to think upon us when we are gone? while we suffer through whatever fate has been woven for us, unable to stop no matter how much we try?" they lean, and a twinge of pain goes down their back, making them falter, a reminder of not their hurt- but what worse could have happened. their voice is only a whisper when they continue. "what if it's one of you- next time?" the honesty and fear that's buried in those words shock them. that they do not only care about dexian to that extent- but gwyneth too. the wetness that begins to pool at their eyes matches gwyneth's and they try not to evade their gaze. "i hate it too- i hate it so- much."

they let their hands be moved from their brother's shoulders, but they end up being wrapped around his wrists instead. the steady pulse underneath fingertips IS calming, even though the iron grip must be uncomfortable for the other. a deep intake of breath, they try to calm down- and find it impossible once more. "do you think someone's behind it? it must be, right? but so many- at once? is it like the poisoning incident? was someone targeted, or are they trying to incite more fear?" words fall one after another, clearly defying harlon's wish to remain calm. they've always been a bit dramatic, and the increasing panic makes it worse. the next advice doesn't help much either, and with a sigh, they drop the hands in their grasp, a hand going up to their own hair, to mess up the dark strands, continuing their pace across the room. "well- being calm isn't helping that much now either —" they walk up to the window, turn on their heel, reaching out for the wine bottle, taking a long swig. "we're helpless now- we're helpless when we panic. so if it is all the same to you- i'll continue with the panic." the bottle is set down on the table again with a splash, a deep breath, another useless one. "can you tell me what you know, at least? who got hurt?"

“  mateo.  ”  had  not  seen  him  since  helping  her  from  the  tourney  grounds,  though  she  was  remiss  to  admit  that  her  thoughts  had  turned  to  him  on  more  than  one  occasion.  attributed  to  a  sense  of  gratefulness,  nothing  more.  a  few  nights  spent  in  each  other's  embrace  and  sprained  ankle  far  from  enough  for  her  to  think  of  him  in  some  fondness,  no  —  because  she  was  not  a  heartless  person  to  feel  relief  in  seeing  that  he  was  unharmed.  “  i  suppose  i  should  thank  you  for  assisting  me  back  to  the  keep,  ”  the  reyne  begins,  “  though  i  would  also  think  you  ungentlemanly  to  have  left  me  sprawled  on  the  ground  in  danger,  also.  ”  a  pause  as  she  mulls  over  her  words,  too  tired  to  keep  her  defenses  in  the  face  of  someone  done  nothing  to  deserve  them.  “  thank  you.  ”       

mateo used to find it much easier to be able to get out of whatever is looming in the future. the worries that dragged down his brother's shoulders, taking their rightful position as the ruler of highgarden — all these problems he could push away fairly easily on most days. after all, as the spare, it is easy to remove oneself from all the chaos of politics, wish to travel around as much as he can, find drinks and pleasure aplenty. the thing is- it used to be easy. the poisoning had made it more challenging, and the destruction from mere days ago leaves him in a fragmented reality. of wanting to go back to how carelessly he could take everything- and every single reminder telling him it is not possible. with so many people dead and lost, memories of fire licking his skin, screams continue to echo around in his head. through years of practice, the liege still puts on a grin when needed, yet it's a challenge. the walk through godswood rather than finding a beat-up tavern is the sign of that, quieter than usual as shoes sink into the soil, eyes looking ahead, yet not seeing. it feels as if heaven reaches out a hand in the familiar face of a friend, and once he spots her, mateo quickens his step, a more genuine smile spreading across his face, although slightly faded at the edges. "dove, my dear. it's good to see you." he does not start with a tease, unlike usual. a few more steps, he plops down next to her on the ground, not asking for permission, not finding it needed. he does not know where she would put him in the categories of friends or acquaintances or more — though he hopes its not in the far ends of things. "ah there is nothing to thank..." is quick to brush away, stretching against the bark of the tree, his back digging into it, head rolling towards her to give her a wider grin. "mhm- i was going to say i am going to be offended it you thought otherwise was an option —" and it really wasn't. the moment he saw her in that madness, there was no doubt in his mind that he had to help her out. perhaps, would have sought her to make sure she was alright, even if they hadn't crossed paths. "though- you know i won't say no to some wine from reyne collection next time — maybe one, maybe more than one... i'll let your conscience decide on the number- how's that?"

they  dig  into  the  depths  of  their  pocket  for  the  gold  tin  of  sourleaf,  wanting  for  another  dose.  thinking  not  to  be  rude,  he  plucks  a  wad  for  himself  and  offers  the  tin  to  the  liege  too.  "those  hightowers  are  curious,"  sevan  hums,  thinking  they  might  be  more  willing  to  part  with  their  opinion  when  eased  with  a  gift,  "don't  you  think?"

a hum leaves his throat, hands clasped in front of him as he stands with the rest of the crowd. at the words, the liege lets out a noise of agreement and curiosity. he does not know how optimistic he is on a regular day, though on this particular one, it seems too foolish to think it is by chance that only one person died in the chaos. "or... they wanted to incite fear?" which they seemingly succeeded in, from the faces of everyone who has joined the funeral. the held out tin is something that definitely lifts his moods, a flicker of a grin on his lips. "thanks-" putting it underneath his lip, he waits for the effects to arrive, wishing it will take some of the tension away from his shoulders. the offer of gossip- or well, accusation in this instance- is exciting enough that an eyebrow is raised, head tilted one side, and then the other. "they do seem to be the most possible culprit..." showing up with the antidote alongside an ultimatum? too obvious almost. "you believe the answer to be in plain sight, then?"

they hear the soft voice calling their name through the door and feel the nerves rise to the surface again. the terrible feeling at the bottom of their stomach returns, one that eerily feels like guilt and self-dismay. they are hit with the nonsensical fear of being turned down now, with a tray in their hands, and heart nearing their sleeve in a way it never has been before. it's nonsensical because it is unfair. gwyneth has been kind to them, no matter what they have done- even at their worst, unable to tell dreams apart from reality, unable to figure out what was up and what was down. they were still kind- and there is no need to expect otherwise now. it would not be fair. they steel themselves with that resolution and wait until the door is opened. the surprise is heartwarming in a way they do not expect. a flush rises to their cheeks that has nothing to do with fever this time, a small smile on their features as they shake their head, quick to reply. "no- no- i'm alright —" they move aside and jingyi slowly steps inside, in no rush lest they spill any of it over their carpet. they set the tray down on the table, careful about the tea. "i really am alright, and you are one of those i need to thank." they evade their eyes briefly, not from dishonesty, but the shame that's their own. "it feels good to be out and about again." another olive branch, or a part of it. a conversation they readily offer, which they did not use to before. her offer does not leave place to an argument, and they nod, settling on the chair opposite. "how have you been faring? with- everything that's going on?"

the  reyne  taps  a  rhythm  against  the  dark  fabric  clothing  his  thigh,  matching  the  agitated  bounce  there.  "perhaps,"  he  says,  returning  the  tyrell's  smile,  if  not  a  shade  more  defeated.  "if  lord  cerion  was  the  sole  target  of  this  curse."  it  is  a  wishful  sort  of  thought.  if  only  the  gods  were  so  kind.  "if  not,"  they  feel  as  if  playing  a  mummer's  part  of  solemnity,  "then,  it  is  only  the  beginning."

their hands itch for something to do; either a drink or some sourleaf, which they have not brought any today. mateo does not know what made them think the funeral would be quick — yet they are disappointed by it already. it being drab is one thing, most funerals are. what's different is that people's reluctance to be here is tangible in the air. either from fear of what happened, or that this is a forced endeavour. a hum in thought, they tilt their head to meet the reyne's eyes. more curious than mischief swims in brown eyes as they prod. "do you think it was the sole target?" it's a genuine question, and they don't shy away from following it up with their own opinion. "if so, why poison all those other people? a cover-up?" if it was a cover-up, then it was still too messy for it to be a good plan.

“  sit,  you  silly  thing.  ”  they  had  not  come  with  the  intentions  to  fuss  anymore.  exhausted  in  a  way  that  felt  bone  deep,  where  fever  had  overtaken  others  a  coldness  had  settled  deep  in  her  bones.  fear  that  they  had  not  wanted  to  accept  for  what  it  was  kept  their  teeth  clenched  tightly  together,  grinding  as  they  wrung  their  hands  and  paced  endless  nights  with  the  knowledge  that  nothing  that  she  did  would  help.  “  you  are  not  yet  fully  yourself,  do  not  exert  more  than  necessary.  ”  needed  but  one  glance  at  jingyi  to  see  the  sickness  still  thick  on  their  skin.  another  may  have  taken  that  as  warning  to  keep  distance  yet  as  amahle  crossed  the  room  they  were  quick  to  clasp  their  hands  gently  in  hers. “  i  had  hoped  to  visit  you  earlier  than  this,  you  must  forgive  me.  ”  squeeze  of  their  fingers  light  before  pulled  away,  taking  the  few  steps  to  settle  herself  into  a  chair.  “  i  know  you  are  well  enough  to  no  longer  be  bed  ridden,  but  how  do  you  fare  ?  are  you  in  need  of  anything  ?  ”  distant  thought  that  they  ought  not  fret  when  she  was  certain  jigyi  had  many  others  that  continued  to  do  so  and  was  likely  overbearing,  but  at  this  point,  what  was  a  liittle  more  ?   

the warmth of the underlying concern settles gently in their chest, very much unlike the heat that came with the fever and dragged its claws through the skin, stubborn not to go away. this is the exact opposite of it, and they cannot stop the small yet genuine smile spread across their face, slowly shaking their head. "i am well now. truly." this is mostly true, at least to them. compared to last week, this is black and white, a full turnaround from how poorly they felt. in reality, they are not as strong as they used to be, though they are of the belief they can fake it until they can make it come true. their hands are warm against jingyi's, and they squeeze back, genuine appreciation in their countenance, a brief bow forward in lieu of thanks. they are quick to shake their head as they settle back in the chair, and some tension seeps away from their posture now that they do not need to stand. "nothing to forgive. i wasn't the best company... or so i have heard." mirth that's reserved for close friends, slips through the cracks, feeling more open in amahle's company to joke around. "i am genuinely alright now. thank you for visiting." and a part of them yearns to know more, for someone to tell them more about what's going on out there, what's going on in other houses. gwyneth had been kind enough to tell him the truth of the matter, the poison, those who have been affected. jingyi wondered how amahle saw it unfold, how it fared in the house of arryn. "how have you been? i would really like to know more about what's going on outside these four walls."

it is a state between dream and reality. nightmares and mirages. something that seems within reach, yet it slips through their fingers once they get there. a weight pushing down on their chest, a hand pulling them away, a deep plunge into lava, a visit to the land of always winter. a pendulum swinging between two extremes. there seems to be no end in sight, as it is impossible to keep track of time. have they been here for a few hours? days? is this hell? they do not understand it, nor can they even start to grasp the reality of what is going on. then, sunlight starts breaking through the winter. a cool hand reaching through the volcano. the extremes do not switch between one another as often, and start feeling less and less painful. time is still a fickle thing, yet they begin to have a better understanding of it. almost there, reaching the surface. a sigh falls from their lips from the effort. then, a familiar voice breaks through, and their eyes flutter open. "ge-" their mouth opens to speak, yet no words sound but a cough. their throat feels like filled with sand, and unconsciously they lean towards the cool rag. they cough again to dislodge whatever's stuck, and only manage enough to be able to speak. "water- please." they do not feel hunger at all, only an inexplicable thirst at the forefront. beneath it, confusion is as easy to see as day, with their furrowed eyebrows and eyes looking around to the other beds.