space age country girl

“ high handed ? ” kalla momentarily wondered how she came off if the swedes were high handed. she didn’t dwell on it too long — the truth wouldn’t have been very comforting. she let out a small chuckle at bianca’s explanation and grinned. “ mhm. i hated being twenty. it was a terrible age. ” the older she got, the happier she was. the only thing that bothered her was that each passing second took her closer to death but that wasn’t an everyday thought. “ do you feel pressured to learn the language ? i think it would bother me if i didn’t know what my colleagues were saying about me. ”

"no se moleste,” bianca smiles, her tone almost singing as she waves off the german princess. “almost all royals are, they’re just... on a different level. they won’t survive a day in the wild-- they might surprise, but nah... i doubt it. they don’t even know how to cook!” she adds laughing, it makes her slide down on her seat as she shakes her head. it’s funny on how everyone here were trying to be independent and surviving on their own and yet none of them even know how to cook without sounding off the fire alarm. “but i don’t know, being twenty was fun. all i ever bothered about was miss sunshine and fibonacci and... making sure i passed my university classes and that my ‘children’ don’t die from alcohol poisoning and/or get arrested during raisin weekend." she misses those days, all she ever worried about were the superficial and fickle things. not like now, where everyone is fighting over world powers trying to figure out who’s got the biggest britches. “hmm, no. i’ve already tried learning another language for someone and look how that turned out-- i’ll learn swedish once they demand that of me, in the meantime... i’ll stick to bothering them in spanglish. they seem to comprehend it enough.”

“If I were you, I would not say that out loud because if someone else hears that, they may think that they can do you a favor.” Yang acting this way was something Luciana was used to by now, and it was something that she puts up with despite being annoyed by it at times. That says a lot about her relationship with the other girl. Seeing the expression on her face, she rolled her eyes once more. “That’s something that…” She decided not to finish her statement, not wanting to say the name of the one person in her mind because of how long it has been. She would not be lying if she said that she’s still adjusting to not having said person around anymore. “Don’t worry, it’s on my to-do list.” Although it was a long shot, she did hope that her words will put a stop to the other’s obvious worry. “Te acostumbrarás. Por ahora, ve a acostarte en mi habitación. El aire acondicionado está allí.“

“but they would be doing me a favour,” bianca almost whines, it was only her dignity that stopped her from actually channeling her inner spoilt brat. she hugs a throw pillow to her chest, rocking over the couch cushions so she can properly face luciana. “la muerte is a favour, mi familia would mourn but it would be nothing new. they are used to it, and if la bastarda aristócrata was the one dead no one would really be bothered by it.” her indifference belying a subtle reminder to the princess about her family having a hand on certain events that caused bianca’s family being used to mourning. “pero, you better. install the locks, or i would talk to your staff to install it for you. i think they would listen to me-- i did manage to sneak in, where are your staff anyway? you should be guarded twenty-four seven! i’d rather not go into your room when you’re unprotected-- too many variables. don’t want to cause a diplomatic incident, no?”

She wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t like he’d starve to death if he made an effort. Besides; his parents couldn’t ship him away then cut him off entirely. They knew him well enough to know he would raise a stink if they were that cruel. It was more annoying, not being able to buy what he wanted, when he wanted. “Do they at least have yogurt with fruit, or is it all that plain vanilla shit— sorry,” he corrected, “stuff.”

"no sé,” bianca shrugs as she puts her sunglasses back on. she wishes this was some kind of power move, but it isn’t-- she doesn’t have that kind of standing anymore. she’s just the staff now. she’s also blind as a fuckin’ bat and she forgot her glasses in her apartment and she doesn’t want to wear her contacts so she’s wearing her prescription sunglasses instead. “there’s greek yoghurt and there’s also fresh cut fruit, maybe you can mix and match? i like mine with sour gummies.”

“oh yes… sorry.” kathleen chuckled softly, tucking some hair out of her face. “it’s not too far from here actually. when you leave the main entrance turn to the left and it’s about five blocks down. but you have to keep your eye out for it.”

“no hay de qué,” bianca brushes off the princess’ apology-- it’s like everywhere she turn she’s tripping over a prince or princess nowadays. she knows she’s in a compound with literally half the world’s royal population that if someone locks on their location with an airstrike there’s going to be a repeat of post-world war two in terms of dynastic successions. “comprendido, five blocks left of the main entrada? gracias.”

he was growing redder and redder by the second. it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing that he seemed happy but he didn’t like being transparent, he didn’t want to be an open book. it made him feel a bit vulnerable. “ if she’ll make me happy ?that’s a loaded question ! ” he breathed out with a nervous chuckle. “ can anyone answer that. i can’t. ” it required too many assumptions, too much soul-searching, and too many truths he wasn’t willing to say aloud. “ yes and yes and yes. ” he might have picked his words very carelessly — they didn’t exactly sound like the words of a person who genuinely cared for the other. but it was mostly just his way of describing things. he picked the first accurate words and stuck with them. for the good or the bad. “ you can be a bit prissy sometimes, ” he teased with a genuine grin. he looked down at the menu and tried to make a quick decision since the waiter was already there. he ended up going with a safe choice: a chicken salad and sparkling water.  “ you gotta forget the prissy part because she can’t hear that. ” he tried to sound light, tried to sound like he wasn’t serious but he was sure that no matter how well he had meant the word, it wouldn’t sound good in armani’s ears. “ and it’s not— love’s a very strong word, ” he mumbled and looked at his napkin as he played with its corner. “ i’m glad though… that you’re doing well, and that you’re here. i— we deserved a good reunion, no ? ” better late than never. “ what about you though ? found yourself a possible suitor ? the spanish are blind if they aren’t lining up at your door. ”

you could, bianca wants to say. if you look inside yourself and stop being afraid. but that will never happen-- if there was one thing bianca knows for sure about viggo, the one thing she is willing to stake her life on, it was that the danish prince would never let himself be vulnerable. maybe if they were still together, or maybe if she were olivier... but there are too many things at stake now and she isn’t the lovestruck twenty two year old who was head over heels over a prince she knows she could never have. she took too many liberties and at times like this, she remembers why she did. 

“i am not!” she retorts quickly, cheekily. her eyes wide in mischief as she raises both her eyebrows as if to dare him to say otherwise. she pulls the cutely folded napkin on the table with a snap and letting it fall open and lay it on her lap properly rather than reply to him as he segues to further talk about his fiancee. she just makes herself comfortable, arranges her plates and utensils properly in front of her into pristine positions so when their food arrives she won’t have to worry on reaching for whatever else she might need. 

“love is just a word, mi alma.” she then softly replies to his mumbling, smoothing down the napkin on her lap as she tucks the ends under her thighs. bianca could barely look at him as the old endearment she used to call him slipped from her lips, shaking her head for a second before he switched the conversation to their surprise reunion and she can only thank the gods. “si, si! it’s very nice, very very nice to see you again viggo.” she finally reaches out to hold his hands, clasping over them on top of the tables. she can feel the indents of the back of his hands, bones and sinew and remembers how often she used to hold them under tables of international galas or in the dark of european underground clubs. 

“we did-- we do. we should tell each other stories of what we have been upto since...” since the war began? since the world devolved into a battleground for absolute power? since you left? since we broke up? since what? “...since.” she settles for instead, adding a soft smile to it’s delivery. “ah, careful. you’re starting to sound like mi papa-- you know how he’s desperate to see me married off. he still thinks arranging an agreeable marriage prospect would make everyone else accept me-- you’re the bicho raro that was never bothered. there was one... but that fell through. por que, are you recommending someone?”

“ SECRETARY SOUNDS VERY OFFICIAL, ” astrid mused with a soft smile as she took a step back. it could have been that it was the title the girl preferred. ‘glorified friend’ wasn’t much of an ego boost. “ by hook or by crook, ” astrid repeated as her smile widened. she loved odd new sayings. “ i don’t think that will be necessary though — you’ll come to notice that i’m not SUPER demanding. “ lonely was more accurate. 

“ah, si but it’s nicer than lady-in-waiting, no?” bianca says in jest, hooking her arm with the princess and patting her shoulder. she knows this is being overly familiar, but astrid did say she would have preferred someone more approachable as a personal secretary rather than any of the dour, double staffers-- personal bodyguards and personal assistants rolled into one-- that everyone else employed. “but si, si. thank you again, it’s my pleasure to serve at your call.i’m here for everything you might need.” she tightens her grip on her suitcase. “you should not have come though, your guards are too open.. you are too open. we could have met in the complex and i have too many things. it’s a bother.”

layla wasn’t sure what shocked her more: meeting up with viggo’s ex or the fact it took this long to run into one. she held no bad blood though, rather interested to hear what bianca had to say. “hola, bianca,” she greeted in return, removing the formalities when she sat. “just layla, please, and i am happy to meet you as well.” she couldn’t lie, she was always jumping at the chance to befriend someone. jumping right into ‘you dated viggo’ wouldn’t be appropriate, so layla started easy. “how are you liking dubai so far? have you been before?”

“of course, your highness.” bianca teases, copying layla’s actions after a beat. she sits across from the princess, placing her bag on the floor beside her feet “i’ve been good-- i love dubai, even if there are a lot of rules in place. there are too many places i want to go that i cannot, you know? an old friend invited me to go see one of those artificial islands and i had to refuse because security reasons.” she tells the other girl, laughter colouring her voice. “mostly tertiary reasons, but still... what about you? egypt is just... it’s less than what, three and a half hours? you must’ve been here a lot growing up.”

remei looked up from her phone. it took a beat of silence before she realized who was standing before her then a smile spread on her face. “ bon dia. ” she was surprised: she had thought that there were exactly two other people who voluntarily spoke the language — and neither of them had such a sweet voice as bianca. “ i will agree with you on that though, ” she said softly. if anything, bianca had a sense of humour she could appreciate. “ a manicure ? ” she couldn’t remember the last time she had been to a nail salon. it never really crossed her mind — she went to the hairdresser so rarely that her friends w ere probably tempted to pick up scissors themselves. “ that… sounds quite wonderful actually. i think these things are causing me shame, “ she admitted with a grimace as she quickly held up her hands. it wasn’t that her nails were in a bad condition, they were just terribly different from each other. she got up from the bench. “ is this a stress relief trip or do you just want your nails done ? ”

bianca makes a cooing sound from her throat, stretching her hands and showing her nails to remei. “more like, i have decided since i cannot use the excuse i’m a professional athlete and i’m with princess astrid more often than not, i should stop having nails that belong to a fifteen year old boy with anxiety,” she tells her with an embarrassed smile. “at least yours still look like they belong to a lady, mine are... yeah. i want instagramable nails, even i i can’t post it on instagram-- i missed the whole glitter sparkle nail phase every teenage girl went through so, this is me trying to have a childhood. starting with the nails.”

if anyone told bianca two years ago that she would be having a brunch date with her ex’s ex, she would have lost her mind laughing. she’s never been a people person and she never really understood the concept of brunch, but she has always been a sucker for mimosas and tapas, so she takes her sunglasses off and greets layla with air kisses to each her cheeks. “buenos dias, princess layla.” she says with a smile. “tis nice to finally meet you.” 

it’s not often bianca goes out to get her nails done-- she prefers her nails worryingly short and unpolished. it was easier to groom and train horses without the colourful claws that she often sees on other girls hands, but that was before. she doesn’t have a horse to look after now and she always wanted to have the artsy patterned coffin nails she often saw other girls sported. now, she just needs someone to go with her to the nail studio the concierge at the ritz recommended her-- and she sees remei seemingly free to be bothered across room, perfect.

“remei, bon dia” bianca grins,greeting the other girl as she slides into the empty seat beside her. she specifically greets her good morning in catalan, times like this means she has to be nicer to curry a favour, even if that meant speaking a language she is only passably fluent in.  “i know we have not agreed about a few things,” she says in the biggest understatement of the year. “pero i have a nail appointment at one of the fancy nail salons in the city, wanna come with?”

“ sí, sí, estoy bien. ” she said dismissively of the other’s apology. it was usual for barbie to slip into whatever language she was spoken to immediately. especially when it was one of the many she dominated — she’d been using castilian more than she ever thought she would because of leda and it made barbie fail to notice that she switched languages in half a second. the princess analyzed the girl she bumped into for a couple of seconds and came to the conclusion that they hadn’t met before. she was good with faces and that wasn’t one she’d seen. “ i had my eyes on the kids, didn’t see you there. i apologize once more. ” the blonde felt the need to explain, it was better than having the other think she was too rude to admit being wrong every once in a while. her head nodded rapidly at the question. “ yes, that is me but, please, call me barbie. i don’t think we’ve met before, have we ? ”

“no, no-- it was my fault. apologies, your highness.” bianca had never been fond of the bowing and the scraping and the decorum of respect of courtly titles, but she has always been good at it. she has learned how to twist and coax and breathe control, her mother made sure of it. just like her mother made sure of this meeting. “of course, ma’am. princess barbie-- understood, and no, we haven’t met before.” she says as she adjusts the ribbon straps of both hermes shopping bags over each shoulder. she feels uneasy, but she’s trying to not let it show-- a perfect, polished smile befitting of someone of her station painted on her face. “i’m bianca de borbón-- my father is jaime alonso, the duke of seville.” she pauses for a beat, the edges of her lips pulling into a smirk as she slides the shopping bags off her shoulders and gathers them in her hands as she looks around to search for the princess’ staff to hand over the gifts. “our family would like to apologise for not being able to congratulate you for your impending children, we were in a middle of a crisis. nevertheless, we would like to give you gifts, for you and the babies.”

He froze up a little, just now realizing he’d been looking. It would be easy to just claim he wanted more chocolate, but he didn’t really. He could also just lie back down on the couch and turn over, pretend he didn’t understand what she asked. She was still speaking to him in Spanish, and while he didn’t know Spanish, he understood that question. Even if he were to answer, he wasn’t sure if he should do so in English or Japanese. It was more likely that they’d understand each other better using English, since that was the dominant language here, but since she wasn’t using it, he didn’t feel like it either. Maybe they could just continue this weird communication in two different tongues.

“Iya…” he shook his head and turned his gaze away, his hands fidgeting in his lap. “Nandemo arimasen.” He wasn’t sure why he bothered with formal speech, since it wasn’t like she’d understand the difference–but just in case she did. In retrospect, if he used short and casual phrases, they would probably be easier to understand for a nonspeaker. He still found that he wanted to say something despite claiming the opposite; it was mostly his nerves that got in his way every time.

Finally he turned towards her again and spoke before he could stop himself. “Sudoku pazuru wo…” he started, emphasizing the word that he knew she’d understand, and then considerably lowered his volume as he finished the sentence with some hesitation, just for the sake of finishing it, “…sunno ga suki na…n desu ka?” As he asked, he gestured towards the book and made a writing motion with his hand, which may have been misunderstood as him asking to do one, but he wasn’t sure how else to convey what he was asking with gestures. His voice sounded very leveled and calm despite his nerves, probably because he was so soft-spoken by nature.

bianca can feel the muscle at the edge of her mouth twitch. if she were less practiced in the rules and decorum of court etiquette, she would’ve rolled her eyes in derision and told the japanese royal in no uncertain terms to leave her the fuck alone to do her sodoku puzzles. there was a reason on why she’s hiding behind couches in places people she knows won’t look for her. she’s just had enough of royalty trying to eat away her time for herself. 

it’s nothing, he says or at least a close approximation of it. bianca doesn’t understand japanese-- she speaks seven languages and yet it’s still lacking in her ability to communicate here. she does however, have a younger brother who grew up obsessed with pokemon and an unhealthy love for all things sushi. she can clobber enough phrases from memory to read what he’s trying to say. 

she nods, giving ryoma a trite smile before returning to her puzzle. she’s about to finish the whole page when he continues on-- it’s like people here can’t understand subtle cues of dismissal. the nod and the smile meant go away, that’s how her stepmother dismisses her from whichever room she’s in. that’s how the swedish royals dismisses her when she’s no longer needed. that’s how the danish dismissed her when she was no longer part of their inner circle-- maybe it’s just too western of her, and her mother had been complaining about her not really understanding the subtleties of her asian heritage, but usually she expects people to just fuck off when she makes a show of being busy.

bianca can only understand two parts of that sentence: sodoku and desu ka. she’s pretty sure desu ka means like. maybe the sentence he asked was if i liked doing sodoku? her brows furrow in confusion. the way he’s gesturing to her book makes her think he wants to borrow it and solve his own puzzles, but that just doesn’t make sense. “i don’t speak japanese.” she says after a beat, her thickly accented english stating that she’s clearly too tired to even bother pretending about bother about small talk. if this causes a diplomatic incident so be it, she’ll take the punishment. “are you asking me if i like sodoku? if so, yes. i also like being alone. what do you like?”