𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙀𝙇𝙀𝙑𝙀𝙉 :
𝗪𝗲𝗮𝗸-𝗕𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱𝗲𝗱

                    𝑳𝑶𝑹𝑫 𝑪𝑨𝑺𝑾𝑬𝑳𝑳'𝑺 𝑬𝑳𝑫𝑬𝑺𝑻 𝑺𝑶𝑵, 𝑳𝑬𝑵𝑵𝒀 𝑪𝑨𝑺𝑾𝑬𝑳𝑳 𝑾𝑨𝑺 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑶𝑺𝑻 𝑼𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑴𝑨𝑵 𝑨𝑳𝑰𝑽𝑬. Not only was he twice Sylvia's age, but talkative subjects pertaining to politics and his status were only of his interest and it dulled her ears severely.

She found herself yawning. Again.

Another green leaf was plucked from a bush, rubbing between her fingers and tore off bits as she accompanied Lord Lenny on an afternoon stroll through the royal gardens.

Since announcing Sylvia's legitimization, noble lords from various backgrounds made themselves known and available to wed a Targaryen. She was very much enjoying the warm weather with Lady Vana sharing stories from memory and Princess Halaena shit-talking everyone and her husband who left to deal with matters back at Driftmark, leaving her behind to have her babe at home as she wished. Alone. A rather perfect day before Lord Lenny interrupted and Lady Vana agreed on Sylvia's behalf.

". . .and did I tell you about the time. . ." Sylvia blocked out his voice.

She picked up her peach-colored dress as they crossed a low bridge built over a pond with an open view of the royal garden. The fabric was lighter than most of her evening gowns, with shorter loose sleeves like a robe with warm-colored layers close to a blooming rose, held together by a thick bronze waist belt. Being able to move more and breathe was the best part about it. Certainly an upgrade after subjecting Meya to Sylvia's complaints and her desire to wear trousers occasionally.

Meya trailed behind at great distance to allow privacy but close enough to come to her lady's aid, which Sylvia wished she could read her mind and drown her in the pond. Or trip him to drown.

Silence prolonged when Lord Lenny finished his dreadful story of nonsense. It was because of the silence Sylvia realized he stopped talking or else she would have assumed she possessed the power to rid him completely.

"Yes, how brave of you, my lord."  She dully responded, hoping it was the answer he sought.

"B-brave?"

She blinked. "Is that not. . .well, sure. In ways," she cleared her throat, thinking of something quick to make sense. "Brave? Maybe brave? From what was said. . .how could one not be brave?"

Shabby black hair stood stiff when Lord Lenny nodded. "I suppose so. I didn't think to look at it from a different perspective."

"Exactly."

"Right. Well, as I was saying. . ." His voice bled out of her ear.

Sylvia pictured his head on a goat's body, bleating in unison, a struggle to differentiate Lord Lenny's voice amongst them. Picturing it made her snicker as it was the most entertainment she had gotten with him.

"Did something I say humor you?" Asked Lord Lenny.

"No. I. . .actually," briefly glancing over her shoulder, Meya seemed to have caught on quickly as she was at her lady's side in a blink. It was now or never to save herself especially when his time was over. "Sorry, but the heat has gotten to me. I need to sit down for a bit."

"Excuse us," Meya took Sylvia's outreached arm and guided her toward the nearest bench. The slightest shake of her head knew to expect this.

Lord Lenny now realized she didn't look too well though she was perfectly fine and healthy. "Oh, I see." Guilt was detected for not noticing, which would be the first he truly paid attention to Sylvia. "I should call for the maester and have him — "

"No!" She responded with much panic and caught herself before continuing. "Thank you, but no. The maester won't be necessary; I should be fine with rest."

"Then allow me to escort you back to your chambers. See you safely returned, my lady."

"My handmaiden will escort me."

Sylvia took Meya's arm and stood just as Lord Lenny filled the spot beside her. He stunk of old stinky cheese left out in the heat. It was unsettling.

"O-okay," he rubbed his wrinkly hands along his trousers in a nervous manner as he stood. "Will you respond should I call on you again, Lady Sylvia? I quite enjoyed our time together. Forgive me if the Gods have said otherwise, but I do believe we are well-matched if you think so yourself."

Sylvia huffed under her breath, "take a fucking hint."

"What was that?"

"I said — "

"Her lady's list of suitors is quite long, my lord." Meya said in a panic before Sylvia could speak her truth. "Only time will tell."

They made their escape before the opportunity disappeared and before he spoke another word.

"This is the fourth suitor you've run away from, my lady. Don't think the King will take lightly if he hears of this." Meya scolded.

"That is if he doesn't hear of this."

She covered her mouth with a gasp. "I could never — my loyalty lies with you along with my life. It's just if you continue turning down eligible bachelors, you become the problem. Not them."

"Lady Vana hasn't complained so there is that." Sylvia told her with a shrug. "Besides, the last few were potential suitors for Lady Mercia. I've yet met this Edwin fucker nor I wish to wait upon his arrival. I need a reason to call him to court and meet with him, or he isn't allowed Lady Mercia's hand in marriage."

A knowing smile filled Meya's face. She knew something was up between the two but had proved her loyalty by never speaking of it unless it was brought up. "You care too much about Lady Mercia's future. You need to focus on yours."

"I can focus on both."

Her lips pulled tight, shaking her head with disapproval.

Sylvia could care less about their opinions when it came to her hand in marriage. She hoped never to run into Lenny Caswell again or any other Caswell for that matter. He was a wrinkly, old-smelling man who wasted her time. Unfortunately, this was only the beginning. The young and old would be fighting for her hand in marriage — already have by sending expensive gifts, always waiting around the corner for her time or a moment to position themselves as the perfect candidate — and through each potential suitor, Sylvia must find a husband.

And so far, there was no hope. She was doomed. The least she could do to keep up the momentum was search for another suitor for Lady Mercia who wouldn't expect too much out of her. That way she could fulfill her duty to her father and live in her truth with Sylvia should she never consider running away again.

Lady Vana lifted her head when noticing Sylvia heading in their direction under the shaded structure within the royal gardens, right where she left them. "Ah, back so soon?" Her question was laced with surprise, hinting something must have gone wrong. At least she didn't seem disappointed.

"That was quick," Princess Halaena muttered with a chuckle. She wore her hair in a braided up-do to combat the heat, barely focused on the red roses embroidered by hand. "But then again, I don't blame you. The Caswells are House of The Old. And soon the dead."

"The dead?" Sylvia inquired.

She took the empty seat between her and Lady Vana. Lady Julie was present too and didn't shy from a proper greeting though she remained quiet. She wasn't here before and must have come during Sylvia's time with Lord Lenny. Her yellow dress was almost as golden as her hair, with strong waves down her back and held from her face with rare ornaments. She focused on her stitching of a bluebird rather than flowers as everyone else chose. The details were immaculate.

"Their blood is weak. No sons of theirs have made it past their first name day. How long has it been?" She asked herself while already knowing the answer. "Two decades now I believe. Their men along with their lands and titles are withering away. Seems only fitting they are desperate to mix with dragons; we live longer if not they talk us to our deathbed. You would have to be in love or blind to marry one of them old fucks."

Sylvia agreed with a laugh.  "They are exhausting. Will I need to consult him again? I don't think I can fake it anymore." She asked Lady Vana.

An empty cloth lies before Sylvia, the same that was there before Lenny Caswell sought her attention. With only a single yellow thread, the size of a caterpillar, displayed and loosely tied. Evidence of Sylvia's poor use of imagination and talents.

Embroidery was not within Sylvia's expertise. She was good with house labor; hunting, cooking, and cleaning. Not privileged feminine activities, so she thought it. Unlike the women here with profound education and excelled in music, poetry, embroidery, languages, and more — Sylvia did not. She was far behind. Meya was certainly close to giving up if it wasn't a required talent to have.

She reached over for her raspberry lemon tea instead.

"I should hope not, my child. Your comfort is most important." Lady Vana assured with a warm smile.

"Sometimes opposites attract. That is what my mother tells me. It is possible to be compatible with an incompatible man — a perfect match." Anyone who wasn't a fool knew Lady Julia referred to her relationship with her betrothed, and her mother was just feeding her false hope. "You can learn much from a man you cannot relate with. You just have to give them a chance. Who knows, something beautiful may come from it."

Princess Halaena rolled her eyes with a scoff. "And how is that going? Is something beautiful sprouting with my brother?"

Lady Julie grew quiet, chewing her bottom lip pinker. More focused on her stitched bird than ever before. Who knew what more to add to something already perfect?

Lady Vana shot the princess a soft glare, a look Sylvia knew very well. She shrugged off the silent message, rubbing her pregnant belly when the baby started kicking. Only a few more weeks were due until the baby arrived, and her only wish was to conceive at home so her mother didn't have to travel to Driftmark like the last few times. The princess saw now wrong her words, merely teasing to gain a reaction.

She wasn't wrong though.

There had been no progress between Lady Julie and Prince Viseron. It's rumored — as learned from the ladies who kept up with court drama — they may never wed and were likely to die betrothed unless one of them petitioned to call it off. . .which had been no word on. As family-oriented and impatient as the King was, it's a surprise he hadn't forced the two to marry.

The wait made everyone anxious. A Crowned Prince without a bride was one without an heir and without a legacy.

It certainly made Sylvia anxious. Her life quite literally depended on their certain unification, which for some reason, felt a sense of relief it hadn't been rushed despite what was on the line. She had no idea what Prince Viseron was up to since he returned to his room. That was days ago. He hadn't called on her since then or made noise in the walls, still sending random gifts now and then. But she's been taking her studies seriously, specifically High Valyrian, and awaited the moment to translate his parting words that slipped her mind by day by how challenging this foreign language was.

Despite her struggles, learning was fun. Retaining new information was a hobby Sylvia grew accustomed to enjoying more than everything else Meya wanted her to excel at. She filled her mouth with lemon cake and pies. There were various sweets to choose from, all needed to recharge the energy wasted on worthless men.

"Your positivity is refreshing, Lady Julie. I believe we all should remain positive no matter the outcome of our situation." Lady Vana filled the void, sending another look in the princess's direction when she muttered something under her breath.

A soft smile tugged Lady Julie's pink lips, at ease by her words.

"Though cases may vary and many do not have the luxury of choosing their husband so we must adjust for our own survival, I never wish that faith to fall upon my children. Nor should they settle any less." The hand not covered in cake crumbs was warmly held in Lady Vana's with a soft squeeze. "Anyhow, there are more opportunities to come. The King's Name Day isn't only but a month away which is plenty of time to find a suitable husband or someone presentable by then."

The King's Name Day was the deadline given to present someone suitable before the King. One that wasn't directly given but highly anticipated by the King himself. Sylvia never attended such an event or ever celebrated with royals aside from supper, but she couldn't even enjoy the days leading up to one of the biggest celebrations because she remained unwedded.

She didn't wish to disappoint the King, but how could she find a betrothal nevertheless love within a month? How was love even possible? Political marriage was common in Dorne but it wasn't the Dornish way at heart, or at least what Sylvia was taught, which was to marry for security first then love. She didn't desire a loveless marriage based on her blood and title.

This world and its ways were challenging. If only Sylvia could pick some random man to engage with until then and break it off afterward, or Lady Mercia grew a functional penis. They would live happily ever after with endless children, fucking each day and all day however long their bodies gave.

She couldn't wait to fuck her now. To drag her tongue along her freckled breasts, down between her thighs, tasting her sweet cunt as she pulled her hair and screamed her name. The thoughts consumed her greatly. She have been nothing but respectful and patient of her boundaries and her slow pace because of how shy and nervous she gets. She wasn't like the whores back at the brothel, but a lady who's been repressed her entire life because of her duty to her family. Though she was sure of herself, getting to express that feeling was new for her. Therefore, Sylvia didn't mind the wait.

Sylvia sunk into her chair with a groan. "Should I meet another dreadful old fucker, I might kill myself or him."

Meya's head shot in her lady's direction as she knelt to pick up the thin needle Sylvia accidentally knocked over. She could hear her nagging voice in her head; mind your language. It isn't ladylike or appropriate.

Princess Halaena pointed her finger with a smile. "See, I knew I would like you. The spirit of my Uncle embodies you well. He was just as dramatic as you are."

Lady Vana laughed. It was a laughter that held memories during the time her father was alive. Sylvia shook her head with a growing smile. Stories about her father and being compared to his characteristics or his appearances helped her know him better. She felt closer to him in a sense.

      I want to know more. I need to know everything about him.

Just as Sylvia opened her mouth to ask more about her father, Lady Julie decided to steal the spotlight. "My father says I'm gentle like my mother but when I throw petty tantrums, he and I could be mistaken as twins." She chuckled to herself while pushing back her golden locks to view her stitching at a closer angle.

The silence between everyone was so loud that Sylvia quickly joined her laughter before the girl realized it. It was forced and filled with mild confusion, which Lady Julie wouldn't notice anyway. She was clearly trying to fit into the conversation.

"Very interesting. It's a good trait being gentle like your mother. My mother always said — says a gentle heart must stay guarded to keep away the thorns." Sylvia fidgeted with the sleeves of her dress as she peered around, hoping no one caught that slip-up. If anyone did, no one acknowledged it.

Lady Vana especially who instead praised Sylvia's mother for her wise words. She never felt prouder given her mother's lack of education. Despite it, her words held truth and Sylvia never doubted her. . .occasionally.

        "I agree with your mother, yes. Thrones are very easy to cut off even when they've overstayed their welcome and no one wants them here." Her emerald eyes pierced into Sylvia's soul when lifting her head.

She stopped midway from shoving another bite of a sweet-tart in her mouth, unsure where this obvious jab was coming from. And if it was fear she was to feel about her? Because it wasn't. Just a lot of confusion. Lady Vana seemed to share it with a quick expression she hid immediately.

       The princess didn't bother wasting her breath and continued on as if she hadn't spoken at all. "You need a husband who matches your flame well."

Sylvia tore away her gaze, putting down her tart. "If you have a name, tell me please. Otherwise, I'm stuck with old cunts and children as young as a babe."

"My memory is shit. Names go right over my head, my husband grows sick of me asking him who is who and which is which. Though I do have a name in mind," the princess scooted as close as her stomach would allow. "One I believe is well-suited being that your blood is closest to dragons. A viper mixed. It is only fitting you share it with a true dragon."

Princess Halaena merely glanced in Lady Julia's direction with a look of mischief before she ate at the finger foods displayed before them.

      A true dragon?

That limited information helped with nothing. Her situation remained as it was. Looking to Lady Vana for clarification, she seemed well aware of this true dragon. Her silence held the answer and disapproval wasn't one of them. Sylvia nudged her for an answer and she refused to utter a word.

"Prince Aelor would be a perfect match for you, Lady Sylvia." Lady Julie chimed in.

A look of disgust molded Sylvia's face. "We are not suited for each other. No offense but ugh."

"I also don't recall him being the only eligible dragon left." Princess Haelana muttered under her breath but loud enough for everyone to hear.

Princess Halaena, the Realm's Delight, was the youngest of King Aul's legitimate children and his only daughter. Despite her age, she presented herself as the eldest. If one were to meet her first, people would easily believe it's true. She spoke with no filter and thrived off the reaction of others for her own enjoyment no matter the damage her words held, as Sylvia quickly learned. But her dislike for Lady Julie was evident.

Out of Meya's mouth, while the Lannisters were a prideful house, House Targaryen was top of that list. The princess even higher. It was said she's picky with whom entered their family and believed their bloodline shouldn't be tainted by individuals unimportant to their history, as it was an embarrassment to their ancestors. Even a bastard with one percent Valyrian blood would be better enough for her than one with none.

The chair scraped against the ground as Lady Julie jumped to her feet. "I should retire early. The heat has gotten to me."

A classic excuse Sylvia used. She also wasn't sure what to add to the conversation and decided to let it play out.

"You don't have to leave. The princess only jest. Don't let her words get to you, she means no harm." Lady Vana knew well enough she wasn't just playing with the girl. She does mean harm.

"Oh, lighten up," Princess Halaena exhaled a deep breath as a playful smirk tugged her lips. "If we are to be family, perhaps you should work on strengthening your gentle heart. It's a weak one. And weaklings cannot survive in this family."

And that was the truth. After dealing with half of the family, the second one was pushed down and refused to stand, the further the hole beneath them sunk.

A crease formed between her dark brows, considering whether she should stay and endure the princess's games or leave while she had the chance. "Thank you for your advice, princess. I shall use it well." She said with a bow.

The princess gave a careless shrug. "If you must."

Her silence forced the princess to relish another win. She leant her ear to her attendant whispering something that soured the smile on her pale face. Her lips pressed thinly and she cursed under her breath.

"Is everything alright?" Lady Vana asked.

"Daena's dragon bit another child's finger off. That's four times this month. I'm sure she is doing it on purpose, allowing these naive kids to pet it. The last time it was a maid cause she forced her to bathe." She took her attendant's arm, struggling to her feet. Sylvia quickly stood to offer aid. The princess was grateful for it. "If the finger is of any use, I'll see if the maester can sew it together. If not, pray by the Gods a few extra silver are more important than a disfigured hand."

Lady Vana stood and calmly took her arm to stop her. "You should rest instead. Let me deal with this."

"If I'm not present in my children's life even for trifling matters, they will think the wetnurse their mother and I rebuke such a notion. I must go. Come with me if you must. You too, cousin. You're stronger than my attendant so I might need you instead."

"Okay, yeah. Sure."

Her attendant took the jab personally and apologized for failing her duties.

Sylvia reached back for her plate, sliding on another piece of pie. She didn't wish to waste a delicious treat unable to enjoy completely because of a certain guest. Meya's lips pressed thin, signaling her to put it back. It wasn't lady-like eating while walking. Which she would have obeyed if there was a fuck to give. What's the point of this title if I can't do whatever the hell I want?

Sylvia added another piece out of spite. She turned on her heels to hurry behind the princess and Lady Vana before the attendant took her place, but Lady Julie stopped her by intercepting her path.

"Would you mind taking a stroll with me?"

She looked back at the princess where Lady Vana was peeking over her shoulder, awaiting her presence, then down at Lady Julie fidgetting with her fingers. She would rather see this finger a literal baby dragon bit off than spend another moment on a dreadful stroll with honestly nothing to talk about. It was no secret Sylvia lived for the chaos, but the girl appeared anxious for some reason. Like there was something she wished to discuss. Hopefully about calling off her father and his limited supporters before he catches his death.

A small smile stretched across her face instead. "Of course."

                    𝑻𝑯𝑬𝒀 𝑾𝑨𝑳𝑲𝑬𝑫 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑳𝑶𝑵𝑮 𝑯𝑨𝑳𝑳𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑹𝑬𝑫 𝑲𝑬𝑬𝑷 side by side with no sense of direction. Sylvia had to pace herself so Lady Julie could catch up because of her short legs. The deafening silence left room for her thoughts to fester and wonder many conversations possibly far from the truth.

       Is she aware of my journey with her betrothed into the city? That I danced for him and we've shared intimate conversations about ourselves and our desires? That we've spent two entire nights together without supervision? That my heart flutters when I think of him and my breath catches in my lungs, and the more I hear their wedding has been pushed back, the more excited I get?

As if the silence was killing her too, Lady Julie finally spoke up. "I feel we never have time to know one another as busy as we are."

Her words were far from what Sylvia assumed they would discuss and wanted to laugh. There was no reason for guilt to fill her belly when nothing had happened. . .in a sense.

Sylvia eased out a breath to calm her thudding plus and offered a friendly smile. "I agree. It's uncommon to be strangers under the same roof. We should speak more. We might have much in common."

. . .aside from her father determined on having her head.

"Do you not like stitching? I noticed yours was blank the entire time."

"I tried. Only to end up poking my fingers bloody, never to see the vision through so I stopped trying. It's not for me."

A grin quickly washed from the girl's face when Sylvia thought she was joining her laughter of another failed attempt. "It's quite easy once you get the hang of it. I don't mind teaching you. Although, I'm not the best — " No, she was phenomenally talented and failed to act humbled about it even if she tried. " — I am confident with a bit of practice you will be stitching lily flowers in no time."

"Anything basic than flowers? More beginner-friendly?" She plopped a bite of the pie in her mouth. "I think I can stitch a sword. Or the sun, yes."

Lady Julie chuckled behind her long sleeves, a whiff of berries filled her nose. "Lily Flowers is beginner-friendly. It's what we stitch first the moment we learn."

"Oh."

Sylvia left her to laugh alone. She had a feeling she was being laughed at and not with, and felt stupid she was far behind even if she accepted embroidery wasn't her thing. She questioned her status as a lady of the court. But if Lady Julie's desperate to waste her time teaching what she couldn't do then so be it. It could be fun the second time around.

"Do they hurt? Your scales?" A quick glance forced the girl to cover her mouth with a gasp and her eyes grew wide. "I don't mean to be rude. Only curious as I have never witnessed scales a human girl before, or at least in person and not in ancient drawings."

At least she was bold enough to ask rather than stare and assume it was asking, and it wasn't a question pertaining to her bruise that had lightened since then. Nearly unnoticeable. "I was born with them so they don't bother me. Like flesh on bones, my scales are the same. Just different."

Nodding, they continued their stroll. Servants bowed when passing by and Meya conversed quietly with Lady Julie's attendant to pass by time.

"You and Prince Viseron are close." Lady Julie mentioned out of nowhere, and Sylvia thought nothing of it despite her quickened pulse.

"We are family, no? We ought to be."

"The prince often attaches himself to new individuals, making them feel as though they are the only in the world — important for once and worthy of such rare attention. Just to use them in a bigger scheme, often to satisfy his violent crave. He once befriended the baker's boy just to make him cut his fingers and bake them in bread to serve his traitor father." Lady Julie scooted closer, wrapping together their arms with a tight lock, taking Sylvia off guard by this gesture. "I only warn you now so you won't end up in the same predicament. So new and shiny, no wonder everyone likes you. . .or so it seems. At least then, I won't feel responsible for not warning you ahead of time."

Her brows shifted downwards with her lips, displaying genuine concern, but her eyes held a different light. But unlike Prince Viseron, Lady Julie wore her expressions like a second skin. Instead of questioning his motives, Sylvia questioned hers. It was obvious she felt threatened. A not-so-good look with her scheming father.

A story like this would caution anyone, creating a sick pit in one's stomach but Sylvia felt fine. Unwavering. In fact, whatever the prince had done out of boredom or teaching one a lesson was none of her concern. If she was to be a part of his blood-thirsty scheme, Sylvia wanted to be the one pulling the strings for once. Besides, her father was long dead and loyal until his last breath. She also had no reason to betray her family or anyone else.

"Did your father tell you to scare me away?" Sylvia blurted with humor on her tongue, and Lady Julie pulled away, finally releasing her. If she wanted to save herself, which she didn't, it was too late.

"What? W-why would you think that? My father didn't put me up to this or anything else."

"So you are trying to scare me away?"

Her face grew red with guilt. It wasn't appreciated that she had the nerve to accuse Sylvia of thinking her otherwise than some helpless innocent girl.

"Of course — " She stepped back. "Of course not. I was merely warning you."

"For what?"

"Because you're new to court and obviously don't know the prince like I do. My fiancé like I do." There was a bite in her tone, reminding Sylvia once again of her place. "And I pity you, really — "

"Did I ask you to pity me?" Sylvia pressed, sounding more serious than intended.

Lady Julie didn't seem to like it very much because she chewed her bottom lip. Her face grew even more red as if she was holding her breath, possibly resisting the urge to become like her father.

Then she breathed out a nervous chuckle as she combed her fingers through her hair, flipping it over her shoulder. "I honestly thought you would be grateful and heed my warning as anyone would. But clearly, you intend otherwise. And now you assume me jealous because my prince asks you to dance and sends you pretty gifts, and never sends you away or looks at you as if you're a fucking blistering sore, never once having to wonder if one day he decides to leave you for some b. . ." She stopped herself before finishing her sentence Sylvia every much wanted her to finish, even while knowing what she was about to say.

Leave her for a bastard.

Sylvia's brows rose as a heavy breath was inhaled with an 'okay'. This was a lot to unpack. Much she didn't expect, though she knew what she was doing when she first started pressing her. And finally, it's been admitted that Lady Julie was seething with jealousy over something she couldn't control.

And now she had no clue what to do about it. She can't go around killing everyone who hates her even the tiniest bit. It could backfire and it wasn't the answer to everything. Yanis' teachings proved ineffective once again.

Before Sylvia could say any more, Lady Julie's gaze shifted over her shoulder and lowered herself into a bow with a soft gasp. "My prince," blush filled her pale cheeks. She purposely avoided her gaze, embarrassed of what she blatantly admitted.

        Sylvia spun to both of the princes heading in their direction and greeted them with a short bow, just as taught. Prince Aelor grunted at the sight of her and it wasn't one-sided. Nothing good came from his presence. They must have come from their studies or council meetings or whatever princes do.

"Lady Julie," Prince Aelor purposely bumped into Sylvia as he passed. She clutched her plate tight before the small piece of pie fell off, restraining the slightest impulse to stick out her foot and trip him.

"I hope to hear your meeting came with good news?" Asked Lady Julie, looking toward Prince Viseron who was looking at Sylvia. He noticed the plate in her hand and cracked the slightest smile, shaking his head.

"I couldn't dare bore you with matters that are none of your concern, or any lady's." Prince Aelor said as if it was a compliment.

"My apologies. I don't mean to pry."

He waved her off. "Curiosity is a woman's trait. Though your modesty and empathy are of high regard. An example to teach any woman or thing who calls themself a lady."

He snuck a glance toward Sylvia rolling her eyes.

Lady Julie held her head high, grateful for his disguised compliment. Still, watching the prince for any sort of acknowledgment.

Sylvia kissed her teeth with a mumble. "An example my ass. You could learn from it too."

"What was that, bastard?"

They bore into each other's gaze, challenging one another to say something else. Do something else that would give them the excuse to react violently. She dared him to test her, her hand eagerly awaited to meet his ghostly white face.

Meya quickly took her side, the pressure reminding Sylvia to leave it be. So she stepped back in a way that didn't allow him to take it as a win, though he considered it one anyway.

Prince Viseron kept walking and it stung both girls to be ignored. Surely, Lady Julie had no reason to feel threatened if she was ignored too.

Assuming they were long gone, the warmth of someone's shoulders was brushing Sylvia's, and his familiar scent filled her nostrils as his voice spoke in a volume meant for her ears. "I hear you went on a stroll with a Caswell?"

Syliva faced him as Meya stepped back with a bow. She struggled to read the situation at hand. He couldn't possibly be curious about her private affairs? With someone who was a waste of her time?

        As long as I know who it is, I could care less who you pursue.

"I did, yes."

He hummed. It wasn't the answer he was looking for. He wanted more than a confirmation, more than he was willing to outwardly ask. Behind him, Lady Julie struggled to hear their exchange, toying with her hair behind her ear as if it granted her the magic to hear. He purposely shifted himself so Sylvia's attention was only on him.

"He was. . ." Sylvia thought of a word to describe him. "Interesting."

His brow rose with amusement. Or was it agitation? "Interesting?" He echoed, prompting her to continue on this notion.

"A bore."

He hummed again. It was a satisfied hum. "That's what I thought."

He stole the fork on Sylvia's plate, stabbing at the pie before eating nearly the entire piece left. She protested and he ignored her. Slipping the fork from his lips berry residue no longer in sight, a rather satisfying expression took place. He returned the fork with another promise to replace what had been stolen before he left.

She spun and hurried away before she caught the look on Lady Julie's face. Perhaps she had a reason to feel threatened after all.