you heard it from one of our sweet members ! please bring us the insurgent !

the bitterness threaded its way through seladon’s voice and sayf stopped walking, stepping in front of the younger to force them to pause as well. the statement sounded like a thought unexpectedly expressed, out of time with the conversation and jarring with its truth. sel probably believed it, that they were as cold as they tried to force appearances to be, but now sel was high king and if that ambivalence was still assumed -

❛ i do - ❜  they bit out, focused their gaze on sel’s. they did care, about a spread of things, about tearing down the crown, about betrayal, about wrath. but they needed their role for that, needed sel to stay on the throne for now, needed, cared, and though the words tasted different they could mean the same thing.

slowly, confusion written across their brow, sayf looked up from the map spread out on the table to catch seladon’s gaze. thoughts flashed through their mind (how had they disobeyed what disobediences had she discovered) before clarity smoothed their features as they picked up a piece from the board, weighing it in their hand.

❛ because i want the troops to spread take this minor court instead of guarding the - ❜  sayf shook their head, placing the piece back down. 

[the truth is that sel’s suggestion was more than valid, was probably beneficial, and they were a touch surprised by the fact that she had picked up on the slight tactical error. but by taking down the minor court, there were ripples of destabilization that would help them instead. ]

❛ you know you ought to listen to me, ❜  they threw back, before pointing at the other pieces scattered across the map. succinctly, they explained the tactical advantage (and there was one, there was always a way to make it one), before tapping the piece again.  ❛ i taught you how to navigate this board, after all. ❜  and wasn’t that a kicker, that their teachings had rubbed off enough that she could see their plans, their ‘slip ups’. 

Oh. The only word that crossed Yuliya’s mind the moment Seladon’s words registered in her mind. She was frozen where she stood, hands lifted to wrap her hair up, out of the way into a bun so she could work. Oh. That’s right. There was no doubt in her mind that out of any fae outside of the Undersea court, Seladon would be someone who knew. She had requested Yuliya to design for her, after all. There must have been an elder from the sea that told her of Yuliya’s misguided actions. Her fingers went lax as she thought and the purple strands slipped from her grip unceremoniously. When she turned to face the Queen, her face was smoothed over in a look of indifference, but her eyes had an edge of coldness to them. For a brief moment of time, she said nothing, only looked at the other fae.

     it was a vexation to garden beside his mother in his youth. barely 10 years of age, still impressionable and vulnerable, cassian’s mother thought by weaving in the ways of cultivation she could show her son what patience truly meant at a young age - a adroitness he would weaponize for the rest of his centuries to come. 

     to this day, cassian wasn’t sure when he continued to garden on his own. he remembers visiting his mother’s flowerbeds after her death when nobody was looking, breathing in the aromas and running an ever so gentle thumb over the leaves in their stems, registering the second skin of bristles they grew for their own protection like a skin of his own. these flowers were his escape from reality when cassian was unable to run from his endeavors, his mistakes anymore. he would never tell a soul but he could close his eyes and imagine his mother in the air; enveloping him with imaginary arms. 

     before the vision takes solid form, it is gone with a pinch in the bridge of his nose. over the decades, cassian took over his mother’s garden as his own. daylilies, lavenders, amaryllies, begonias, carnations, gardenias, the list goes on and on. the secret cassian holds in his garden, however, are those equally as subtle. bloodroots, foxgloves, larkspur, morning glorys, oleander, wolf’s bane. while it is no secret that cassian underoot enjoys torture and death in the most patent carnage, in his political position - the secret of secret itself, has won more battles than any. 

A soft, knowing smile grew over Yuliya’s lips for a brief moment, her back to the Queen as she busied her hands with a large, plainly colored box. The tables of her workroom were covered in various accessories and last-minute touches that she could only put together when the woman is was all meant for finally graced the space with her presence. It was messy, but organized in a specific way that allowed Yuliya to have all that she needed ready when it was required. She sat the large box down carefully on a clear spot on the table, the only space that had the marble stone underneath visible and free of clutter. From it, she pulled out a thick bundle of red velvet, pushing the layers of it off into the box once more with quick hands.

“Come now- you think I don’t know that?” She hummed and turned around, the object in her hand still swathed in one last layer of velter. With long strides she crossed the room, a small hop to her movements bolstering her pace. Excitement lit up her eyes as she rounded and approached Seladon from behind. “We both know I’m here for a reason.” She shifted the weight of her surprise onto one hand, using the other to gently sweep some of the Queen’s stray hairs into place. “I can take anything ordinary and have it take everyone’s breaths away,” Yuliya said, pushing away the last piece of velvet to reveal a small crown of white jewels, glittering in the light that hit them. It was nothing like the real thing, she thought, but it would suffice for the point she wanted to make. She lifted her hands, placing the crown on top of Seladon’s head with slow, controlled movements, not wanting to move the woman’s hair out of place or leave smudges on any of the gemstones. 

“Are there any to have here?” Safie questioned, unable to admit to her own longing for a friend. She kept her gaze solely focused on the High Queen, her presence magnetic. For any regent it was important to have friends and, in the same vein, be able to keep them safe. Safie would often watch the summer fae from afar and feel the sharp pangs of envy, but contended herself through the decades that she would not have someone the vindictive could use against her. 

  “If you must obtain them, keep them close.”

She paused in the middle of holding a new set of swatches up to Seladon’s shoulder, looking up to meet her eyes. Where was this sudden heart-to-heart coming from? After a moment passed, she let a huff of air out through her nose. A smirk grew on her lips. “Why?” She asked, voice high and sweet, “because I make you look good?” She looked back at the fabric in her hand and hummed gently, selecting one that was just the right shade of muted honey and marking the corner of it with a pin before pulling away. Yuliya stepped back after she was done. “Listen. I tell everyone I design for this- and I’m sure you’re probably already aware... but, my hands can only do so much with clothing,” she looked back up at Seladon, through the hair that had fallen in her eyes from the tedious measuring and sampling, “it’s how you wear it that makes it mean something.”