#ladymoonlight

Finally sure she was alone, and not being filmed in any way that she could tell, logic began to set in... A logic and awareness that she did not want to give any attention to; she knew what those signs pointed to.

Doing her best to ignore that insistent voice in the back of her mind, Charlotte squared her shoulders, switched on the TV and turned on the local news channel... and found none of it made any sense. The names, the faces, the places? None of it was familiar. The only saving grace was the fact they all seemed to be speaking her language, but that did little to reassure her.

She did her best to stay calm as she grabbed the phone and started dialling the numbers she knew. She went as far as to input international dialling codes on the second attempt with the hope that something would work. She had no idea if she was using the right ones but her shot nerves and shaking fingers forced her to try.

When nothing worked, when even the numbers for her family gave nothing but a grating dial tone, Charlotte was forced to sit down on the couch for several moments and put her head between her knees to starve off the panic rising within her.

A while later, when she was finally sure she could lift her head without passing out, she sat back on the sofa and focused on her breathing.

She had to come up with a plan and in order to do that, she needed information…

Remembering the study she’d passed earlier, she began her search there.

The information she started to uncover was as confusing and foreign as the news report; though a hunt through the briefcase on the desk showed a driver’s licence with her name and face on it, the address, date of birth and everything else was as incomprehensible as the rest of the insane world she found herself in.

She was forced to sit down again abruptly and place her head between her knees as part of the truth began to hit her.

Some part of her was very aware that this was not a simple situation.

It seemed to take an eternity for the lightheaded feeling to pass this time and she did her best to not fight against it in irritation, knowing it would just drive her closer to unconsciousness.

As a businesswoman, she viewed herself as a rational and logical human being. To be overcome by emotion in such a way, to be so out of control like this scared and annoyed her.

When she could finally focus again, another ten minutes had passed.

The clock was nearing 7am now, and as was her normal morning routine, her mind promptly and succinctly reminded her it was time to get ready for work.

She blanched.

She still had no idea where she was, let alone what she did for a living in this place! And boy, was she ever aware she was not on the same planet anymore.

The thought was laughable yet terrifying.

She wondered offhandedly if she had just gone mad… It seemed like a distinct possibility. Maybe she was actually currently sitting in a mental institution somewhere and this was just all in her head?…

She snorted inelegantly at the thought. There was no way was she that lucky. It felt strange to almost wish that was the case. She’d seen and heard enough on the news to know this world was not perfect. She did not want to know what possible horrors awaited...

Mentally slapping herself out of her useless thoughts and theorising, Charlotte climbed to her feet and snatched a business card up off the desk that had her name and several numbers on it.

First things first, call in sick.

Second? ... She’d figure that out later.

The phone rang endlessly as she waited for someone to pick up. Unfortunately, it looked like even the switchboard was still asleep at 7am in the morning.

Barely keeping a lid on her once again rising panic, she hung up and redialled the number marked cell phone, following the faint ringing noise out of the study and into the rest of the apartment. Hopefully the device would have some useful numbers on it.

She found it between the sofa cushions.

Charlotte sighed in irritation when unlocking the device showed it to have a completely different operating system to what she was used to.

She had just figured out how to access the contacts on the phone when it began to ring in her hands.

She jumped at the suddenness of it and cursed spectacularly as it flew out of her hand and skittered across the floor.

Already at her wit's end as she collected the phone from the floor, she was far more abrupt than she intended to be when she answered, banging her knee on the table as she rose to her feet.

“Yes?” Charlotte gritted her teeth against the pain blossoming in her knee, her voice a near growl in irritation and discomfort.

Barely 7am and the day had been taxing enough that she already wanted to go back to bed.

“…Uh, sorry to disturb you, Ma’am,” a scared and timid voice filtered through the earpiece; ‘Hayley’, the name had read, “but… I know you probably already recall today’s appointment but… well…”

Feeling guilty over snapping at the poor girl on the other end of the line, but needing to know what was going on, Charlotte softened her tone and started again, praying she wasn’t creating irreversible damage.

“It's fine, Hayley. I apologise for snapping. What can I do for you?” Force of habit had her mouth working before her brain kicked in and she could have slapped herself. Apparently, she was still a ‘Ma’am’ despite how much she hated the word. Hopefully, the young woman on the other end wouldn’t want too much from her because she honestly wasn’t sure she could provide anything at all at that moment.

She was supposed to be calling in sick for pity’s sake!

“That…that’s okay, Ma’am,” no, it most certainly was not, ‘okay’, her mind supplied. Guilt slapped her hard and Charlotte rubbed at her face tiredly. F**k. Not even two hours into wherever-the-hell-she-was and already she felt like she was messing things up.

Hayley continued on, unaware of her inner turmoil.

“It’s just… I know your meeting with the King–” Hayley broke off mid-sentence as Charlotte started choking at the words that left the other woman’s mouth. “Are-are you okay, Ma’am…?” The poor woman sounded so confused and scared. Charlotte was really doing a number on the poor girl.

“Yes,” she wheezed, “yes, I’m fine. Coffee went down the wrong way.” She coughed away from the phone a few more times before continuing the conversation.

She was still trying to come up with something to say when Hayley continued.

“...Oh… Okay… Umm, well… Your appointment with His Majesty starts at 8am. I know you wanted to be here an hour early but…”

Charlotte barely kept a hold of herself the second time she mentioned a King, holding her breath and clamping a hand over her mouth and nose in order to not make a sound.

Maybe there was time to throw herself in front of a bus before her appointment this morning? You don’t cancel an appointment with a King… But if she got it wrong? She didn’t want to imagine what the consequences could be. A possible beheading!?

She tamped ruthlessly down on the hysteria trying to rise within her. Her voice was only slightly strained the next time she spoke.

“Thank you, Hayley. I’ll be there soon. Please have everything set up for when I get there.”

When the call disconnected, Charlotte sat and stared numbly at the phone in her hands.

She’d seen the King on the news earlier. In the prime of his life, he did not look to be a push-over in any way…

She had a sudden, vivid thought her life could very well end incredibly violently at his hands...

Cursing herself for her unhelpful imagination, Charlotte threw herself up off the sofa and sprinted to the bedroom.

She had no idea how long it was supposed to take her to get to work and she had a King to meet. (She beat back hysterical laughter at the thought.)

Quickly throwing on a minimal amount of makeup, she rushed through brushing her teeth and hair and jumped into the black skirt suit waiting for her on the outside of the wardrobe door.

Clearly, the other ‘her’ had been prepared last night.

Thank the heavens for small mercies!

* * *

It was only as she was crossing the foyer of the building to get to the elevators that Charlotte realised she’d forgotten to spray on any perfume in her rush to leave the apartment that morning.

She was getting more than a few looks from some of the individuals in the lobby and, while she knew it was most likely the dark glasses perched on her nose that drew their stares, she couldn’t help but pray she didn’t smell too badly when she met the King (in 10 minutes time).

Still unused to, and terrified by the thought of meeting this unknown monarch, the thought nearly sent her to her knees as they threatened to give out beneath her.

Somehow she kept her feet steady, her head held high and posture confident. She could ignore the slight greying at the edges of her vision as fear and anxiety rippled through her, her heart pounding loudly in her chest.

As a businesswoman, she had been doing this for years now – forcing her body to betray none of her inner turmoil. There was no place for shows of apparent weakness in the business world and today was no exception.

Overwhelmed, she could barely think straight as she strode with apparent determination through the foyer, acutely aware of the gazes of several people following her as she went. She wondered fleetingly if they were part of the King’s undercover security team but brushed the thought aside, her senses already overwhelmed.

Barely keeping her breathing under control, Charlotte stepped up to the security desk that stood between her and the elevators; stood between her and what little chance she may have of a reprieve before having to face the next part of her nightmarish morning.

Unable to look at him directly lest she fall apart, Charlotte was still incredibly aware the second the security guard started towards her.

She straightened even more, tensing to ramrod straight and white-knuckled grip as fear shot through her, blinding her momentarily.

She forced herself to relax her tensed muscles, both in her body and in her hands; she could not afford to give herself away at that moment.

She couldn’t afford to give herself away in general.

Charlotte caught movement from the security guard’s hand and recognised it as him waving more than one person away from approaching.

Charlotte swayed slightly to the right, her body wanting her to run, but she clamped down on the instinct, even as a muscle in her cheek, twitched.

Running would make her look guilty of something. Running would make them question ‘why’ and those were answers she could not give them.

The guard slowed his approach slightly, adjusting his body language to make him appear less threatening.

It did little to curb her anxiety.

Just because he acted like less of a threat, didn’t mean he truly was.

“Ma’am?” The guard kept his head lowered slightly as he stopped a few feet from her and Charlotte stopped her fast clop across the marble floor. She tilted her chin up to eye him wearily through her sunglasses.

Sure that he had her attention, he continued, “Ma’am, do you know what’s happening to you?”

Confused and already highly strung, Charlotte reeled back as though she’d been slapped. Her head automatically shook a negative, not in answer to his question, but in confusion to the situation.

“Okay, okay. Don’t worry, we’re going to get you somewhere safe.” The guard smiled reassuringly, but the furrow remained between her brow, partially hidden by her sunglasses. “It’s a good thing you’re seeing the King today, huh?” His voice was calm, gentle and kind but his words had the opposite effect to what he was clearly hoping for.

A slight tremble made it past her defences and in that moment she knew she was in trouble as people began to stare.

Turning abruptly on her heel, she marched again towards the metal detectors stationed before the elevators, the security guard close on her heel.

Her mind was a mess. All she knew was that falling apart out in the open was out of the question. Business men and women were like sharks – one whiff of blood, one sign of weakness, and you’re done for.

She doesn’t know what she’s expecting as she spins away from the guard and powers forward.

Maybe she’s expecting him to stop her?

What’s she’s definitely not expecting is for him to wave away the other security guards ahead of them, effectively clearing a path for her to go right through the machines.

She freezes again at the unexpected action and looks between the two men ahead of her in confusion and distrust.

“Keep going,” the security guard encourages gently from behind and she responds immediately as prodded with a cattle rod. Her haywire emotions are making her far more susceptible to outside suggestion and she hates it.

The delay was minimal but she hopes no one has noticed all the same.

Passing between both guards on the other side of the detectors sets her nerves firing and she’s barely holding her trembling at bay.

They make no move to stop her, or grab her as she passes. Instead, they simply turn their heads to look out over the rest of the lobby, going back to doing their job.

Utterly perplexed and completely confused, Charlotte lets herself be gently ushered into one of the empty, waiting elevators ahead of the security guard. She stares blankly ahead as he enters with her and presses (what she assumes) is the number for her floor.

She doesn’t question how he knows.

She’s reeling. Nothing makes sense.

“It’s okay. We’ll get you somewhere safe soon,” the guard reassures gently, almost paternally with his back to her and Charlotte feels some of her tension drain away slightly.

She still feels like a firecracker that could go off at any minute, but it’s as though the edge has been taken off. She no longer feels likes she’s all raw edges and exposed wires that are just waiting to be brushed against the wrong way.

The elevator climb seems to take forever, and slowly, Charlotte’s anxiety starts to climb again in the silence.

She doesn’t know what to say and it seems as if the guard feels the same way.

When the doors finally open, he steps out first, barking out orders to the receptionists behind the desk and Charlotte uses those few precocious seconds to pull her mask back into place.

She doesn’t want to leave the elevator now that it’s arrived, but she knows she must.

It takes more willpower than she expects to force her legs to move and for several seconds her knees threaten to buckle beneath her from their trembling.

Too much adrenaline, too many shocks are starting to take their toll on her body and it’s letting her know how little it appreciates it.

The waiting room on her level is silent as she steps out of the elevator but not as empty as she had first assumed.

She barely keeps her expression neutral as several well-built men come into view.

The King’s security detail… her mind supplies as her heart stutters in her chest.

That means he’d arrived before her.

That means she’s well and truly f**ked up…

She’s made the King wait.

She barely remembers how to breathe as she tears her gaze away from the men and nods curtly to the receptionist behind the desk in thanks. She follows the second receptionist down the corridor, briefcase still clutched in one hand and the security guard at her back.

They seem to arrive at the meeting room all too soon and all Charlotte can do is stand before the door and shake.

Her vision is fading in and out again at the edges and she’s feeling that inescapable need to put her head between her knees again just to keep from fainting…

Her body moves on autopilot though, knowing where it is meant to go, before her mind is even aware of the movement.

Suddenly, and unavoidably, she’s standing before the King of Lucis and his closest advisors…

Her body moves once again without her input, her mind numb, and she curtseys, eyes lowered, head dipped and for a moment her vision swims.

Her voice is barely working as she welcomes the King and his entourage to their establishment, pleasantries flowing from her lips with years of practice, though with little ease in the current circumstances.

The King says nothing as he gestures to the chair closest to her at the end of the table. She has no mind about her to question it despite the fact it places her a whole table length away from him. She’s vaguely aware she needs to be closer to him if they are to be able to talk business (even if she has no idea what their topic of discussion is).

Her mind is swimming and her vision is blurring.

She can see the King’s outline moving slightly, is aware he is talking, but can hear nothing over the roar of blood rushing in her ears.

She’s suddenly unequivocally aware she’s going to pass out.

She can’t do it in front of the King…

It’s the one thought that sticks in her mind as she pushes away from the table.

Her mouth forms the apology as she moves but she has no way of knowing if her words are comprehensible.

The world’s spinning around her as she stands up, one hand clutching the table from below, the other pressing hard against the top. The glass is cold beneath her fingers and the sensation is like a bright light in the maelstrom swirling around within her.

She manages to raise her head from staring at the desk when she senses the King rise from his chair and wonders when she had even dropped it.

He’s speaking and shapes are moving around her but she can make no sense of any of it.

Words are grabbled and muted in her ears.

Her vision is already darkening around the edges, so she knows she has little time before unconsciousness consumes her.

There’s no longer logic to her movements, just awareness that she must leave the room before she hits the ground.

Can’t let them see… Can’t… can’t be weak…

She manages three steps before the world tilts dangerously around her.

She has a moment to spare a thought to how she’s too late before the world goes black and she’s out before she can hit the floor.

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