#vitaiisms

She removed the key she kept tied to a ribbon beneath her sleeve, used it to unlock the box that sat on the table within her chambers. She had little trust for the maids here, nor most of her ladies in waiting- so Dorothea kept the key close to herself.  The box held the jewelry she had brought along for the trip- shimmering stones, shiny metals, irredescent pearls. Not near the entire royal collection, but she had dreamed of such a trove as a girl.

Dorothea heard the door as she was removing her earrings to set into the small chest. “How was your day, käraste?” She spoke their own language to her husband, for who knew if these walls had ears- perhaps the Swiss had called this summit just to spy upon monarchies in privacy. Few tried to learn Swedish while conquering the languages of the world, and these days Dorothea was grateful for it. “Rings, please.” She held out her hand for his jewelry, to set them away with her own for the night. “I’ve had them heat water for a bath in the dressing room.” The distaste so many had for them clung to her skin like a film and she always slept better after washing it off. The disrespect cleansed, it was easier to fall into dreams the world their reign would create, generations down the line.

“I wasn’t trying to start a brawl.” Soren said before swallowing heavily, fingers wrapped tightly around the arm rest of a chair as if that single point of contact was granting him stability. It didn’t feel like enough, his body disconnected from his mind as his temple throbbed with a hot, erratic sort of pain. “Steffan said he was bored, I just wanted to...”

Where was that sentence going? He couldn’t remember suddenly, and his grip tightened even further on the arm rest of the chair. Maybe if he squeezed it enough, the tension and tightness would distract Soren from his head and make it easier to focus on. He didn’t want to be sitting on the chair at all, he wanted to be on the floor, less of a distance to fall and not worries about collapsing back in the chair and it tumbling to the ground. But wait, Nikau was there, even if it hurt too much to do anything but look straight ahead, and Nikau wouldn’t let him fall, would he? Oh, he was probably so disappointed.

She had stayed clear of most of the Swedes since their arrival. Dagmar had no desire to mix with usurpers, no wish to know those know occupying the throne of her neighbouring country. Perhaps in another world, in another life, she would not mind- but now, staring at a man who claimed descent from royal blood, who stole a throne, she could not. Nor could she shut her mouth, even with all her upbringing screaming at her to keep quiet, to play the politics. “Have you thought,” Dagmar began, her tone almost blase, almost careless, “that your arrival might have signaled an ill omen? Royals do have a tendency to drop dead around you.” 

"You haven't been getting into trouble, have you?" Of course, Renaud would know if he had, but it was always curious to see what answers Laurie would give to him, if he would be honest or attempt to hide the truth. With all the years they'd been playing this game, the rules should have been apparent to anyone, but youthful impatience could easily sway a mind and Renaud - well, he did like to oversee his projects.

Stomach queasy, Sorcha was mature enough to admit that she was likely hiding. If she had to talk to one more person that viewed her as either a demon or a cautionary tale, then Sorcha might just scream. Finally alone in what had to be one of many sitting rooms, Sorcha sat penning a letter in perfect quiet for the first time in days. And then the door opened.