"This is a gift, a gift from the mountain, a gift from the gods! We must unlock its secrets, such power is at our fingertips, and I will be damned if we do not take it." - King Jaap-Jan Biljvank I 'The Founder' upon the discovery of an amethyst dragon egg within the mines of Biljrend.

With the wedding only a week away, still destined to be on the 1st of Darsu, Phillipe could feel his heart attempt to leap out of his chest as he watched the Biljvank convoy arrive from the bottom of the castle steps. Passing through the entrance gate, the carriages would then take an immediate left, circling the enormous yellow rose bush that was at the center of the cobblestone circular road. Four carriages in total stopped by the stairs, two in the front and two in the back. Each was decorated with the woven pattern of black vines, every other housing the occasional black rose, intertwined on a golden canvas. At the helm sat the driver who was flanked by two guards, each in splint armor painted yellow over blackened leather, a spear in their right hand and war axe at their hips. Two other guards stood at the back of each carriage as well. As the convoy came to a stop, the four guards stood to each side of the door facing the castle; the drivers later joined them to open the doors and help their passengers out.

Stepping out of the first carriage, there first came a middle-aged looking man, though it was hard to tell with such gaunt features, who had a clean shaven face and medium length brown hair. Following close behind him was a much older looking woman, with long white hair that had been braided into one piece that fell down her backside. While the man was dressed in a black doublet with golden embroidering, the woman had on a silver gown with a white dragon whose face began at her front and ended at her back. This must be the infamous Duchess Zelderloo the king thought to himself, recalling all the studying of nobility in the Kingdom of Biljvank his father had him do in preparation for the wedding. 'It is vitally important that you know who your future vassals are, how else will you call on them in your times of need?' His father's words echoed in his head, along with the pained memory of his disdain for him in this moment. How much of a brat he had been in silently resisting his father's efforts. An apology that could never be given stung the back of his mouth.

Out of the second carriage, there came just one person, King Jurrien II. If the golden rose crown did not give it away, the black fur cloak with the one large gold rose in the center, withered expression, slight hunch from years of sitting on a throne, and grey medium kempt hair and beard were also good hints. That, and, despite the slight hunch and deterioration that ages brings to all, the man still stood taller than anyone else around him. We have a lot to discuss still the bridegroom felt his cheeks become flush as his stomach began to twist in a knot. Not only did Phillipe feel the need, no, the desire to live up to his father's standards and ideals, he must now attempt to keep his father's promises without sacrificing his own integrity as sovereign. Images of the Biljvankian king walking over Phillipe while a new deal was written up which heavily favored the Biljvanks danced through the young kings head.

The third carriage was a very strange sight for the king. Namely, because, the first person to exit was a Buraddouddo warrior dressed for battle. This woman leapt from the carriage door, surveyed the area, hand firmly on the hilt of her sword - a strange, thin looking blade with a slight curve which, on her side, faced downward. Was their blade sharp on the convex or concave side? Both? Phillipe would have to inquire with this unexpected guest later. No less surprising than the warrior, the young king watched as a priest of Dekinhold, wearing their typical blue and gold robes, also seemed to survey the area before fully exiting the area in front of the carriage door. Was this priest secretly another warrior in disguise? What could they both possibly be looking out for? They were all among friends here, even if some of those friends disapproved of the wedding, they were still friends. Phillipe's heart skipped a beat. Sweat began to cover his palms and fingers as his cheeks grew a bright pink. Eyes as wide as they can go, the young king had to force himself to breath again as he saw the most beautiful woman had had ever seen before exit the carriage next. Long brown hair in two separate braids that fell over her shoulders, a black dress of velvet clung to her entire body, save for the two feet at the bottom that flowed to allow for walking. A golden crown, shaped as several rose vines dancing along the top of her head, sat gently under a white fur cloak. Her eyes were like that of green glass, perfectly polished to reflect ones own image back at them. Luckily Mathi had seen the kings reaction and extended an arm, catching Phillipe before he toppled backward.

"Congratulations." the young prince whispered into his cousins ear.

"Shut up." The smirk from his cousin helped the king regain his composure, just in time for King Jurrien II to reach him.

"King Jurrien Biljvank II, my future father-in-law, welcome to Desramaux Castle." Phillipe extended a large smile, teeth and all, hoping, by the gods, that the king was kind in his old age.

"It is cold here. Why is it so cold? Has spring not found its way this far west?" Phillipe blinked twice, taking in the full connotation behind the old kings first ever words spoken to him.

"I am afraid, dear king, that our proximity to the ocean breeze sometimes forces the seasons to be delayed in their arrival. I promise you, though, it will be warm for the wedding." King Jurrien scowled.

"Never make promises you can not keep, young king. Come, show me inside." Phillipe looked anxiously to his cousin.

"I should very much like to greet your daughter and my future wife and queen, dear King."

"There will be time enough for that, I am cold. Now, show me inside."

"Of course, dear king. I shall see you all in to our dining hall for a grand welcome luncheon that has been prepared for your arrival." The young king saw the old king's eyes brighten at the mention of a luncheon.

"Well, what are we waiting for then? Lead on, lead on." Phillipe, taking his time to watch as, who he dearly hoped was Princess Jolijn, slowly made her way up the stairs, flanked by the priest and warrior. The king nodded to Mathi, who understood immediately. Making sure his cousin had the princess by his side, already beginning to talk her ear off about how great of king Phillipe was, the young king turned and walked beside King Jurrien.

After reaching the entrance hall to the castle, King Jurrien II suddenly placed his aged hand on Phillipe's shoulder.

"I wanted to extend my deepest condolences to you, Phillipe. To have lost your father so young, and being given the kingdom in the middle of such an unprecedented matter, I must commend you for your determination to continue with the wedding."

"Thank, um, thank you, King Jurrien. I - "

"My name is just Jurrien. We are equals, Phillipe. Just as you and my daughter will be equals when my time comes and she is made Queen. Understand?" What had begun as a soft, inviting expression on the old kings face had morphed into one of being deathly serious. From consoling to demanding, or rather informing. He was not asking if the young king understood, he was telling him to. Phillipe slowly nodded his head.

"Good. Where can I find you after lunch? We will have much to discuss. The monumental day is fast approaching."

"We can meet in my study." The two kings brought their attention completely forward once more as they came face to face with the dining room of Desrmaux Castle. Mathi rushed ahead of the group, hopefully having been successful in his chat with the princess.

"I ask that you forgive the underwhelming nature of the table when compared to the vastness of our hall. This is typically used to entertain grand feasts, and is where the wedding will take place. We had initially expected more of you at once, but we understand the rest of your nobility is a day or two behind, much like ours. So, we had a smaller table brought out in place of the normally much larger one. The kitchen has prepared quail, duck, venison, and some wonderful assorted roasted vegetables along with apple and pear pie for dessert." The guests slowly gathered around the table, the table clothe was four large squares joined together, two black and two gold, each of the same color diagonal from its partner. King Phillipe took his seat at the head of the table at the end that was to the left of the doorway as you entered, King Jurrien II sat across from him. Directly above the table was a large silver chandelier which housed twenty four large based candles. Surrounding the chandelier in the center of the room hung four other smaller chandeliers, each one housing twelve medium based candles, with each of the four being hung closer to the four corners of the room rather than the four walls. On the far wall, there were three large rectangular windows, with the middle one topped off with a half-circle window, and the two on the sides topped with quarter circles. This allowed for a magnificent amount of sunlight to enter the room, as they were north facing and nearly took up the entire wall.

The lunch was far livelier than Phillipe had expected it to be. Aside from the six members of the Biljvank convoy, Mathi, Mathias, Renault, Guillaume, Thierry, and Louis also joined the meal. Claude and Jean-Claude were not in attendance as they had left the other day for a hunting trip, seeming to have forgotten that the Biljvank party was to arrive the next day. King Phillipe apologized for their absence, though he knew they would not be missed - Prince Claude was an oaf and his son had not fallen far from the tree. Throughout the course of the meal, the young king came to discover that the Buraddoudo warrior was named Layrnwy , and that she had been entrusted in the protection of Princess Jolijn. When questioned about how this came to be, that the warrior should owe a life debt to King Jurrien II, neither Layrnwy or the King offered much of an answer.

"It is a long and, frankly, boring story I am afraid. I would not want to put those around me to sleep with my tales of old just yet. I shall wait until after the wedding, when we are made family and they have no choice but to listen." The old king quipped before diving into his third quail.

Throughout the meal, discussions were frequent enough to evade any awkward silence, but light enough for people who have just met to get along well during them. They were all entertained with light tales about their journey from Biljrend to Desramaux City, an apology from King Jurrien II for his cousins inability to attend, and the occasional desire for Guillaume to give a toast to the meeting of the two families - something he attempted five times, each meeting more dirty looks, especially from that of Thierry. Any moment for potential silence, usually during when all were enjoying their meal, was quickly filled with the music of the violinist, celloist, and lute player who had set up in the top left corner of the room to provide light music to feed the ears as the kitchen staff fed their bellies. During all of this, King Phillipe found it increasingly difficult not to steal glances from his bride-to-be, the astonishingly pretty Princess Jolijn. If ever there was proof that he should have always just listened to his father, it was staring directly at him, with sparkling eyes and a knowing smile. She was surprisingly quiet, though that was understandable, it must be difficult to get in a word with her father always being the first to respond. Still, the times she was able to speak over the old king, Phillipe felt his heart flutter, nearly missing a beat every time he heard her soft voice. It was not until the meal had finished and they had all begun to disperse that the horror of realization seeped into the young king. He had never introduced himself properly. Never kissed her hand. Never said a proper 'Hello, you must the Princess Jolijn? I have been looking forward to finally meeting you. You are more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. To think, at first I was not interested in this marriage, but now, it is all I can think of.' No, that would have been silly. He knew he would not have said something like that. But at least it would have been something instead of nothing! Now that would have to wait, she had gone off to explore the gardens with her entourage, while King Jurrien II was waiting expectently for him in the study.

The aging king felt his stomach churn. Perhaps five quails was too many. But he had been starved of descent food the past three days; stale bread, salted meats, and warm wine was all he was able to enjoy for the better part of their journey. Roasted quail, cooked with precision to create crispy skin that would melt in your mouth while still keeping the meat tender. Jurrien could not remember the last meal that went down so easily. Still, he was now uncomfortably full, and, as such, slouched back in his seat, hands clasped over his bloated belly. Across from him, debating his next move in their game of chess, sat the young King Phillipe. To have a son again. His initial impression of the young man was nothing inspiring. Phillipe was quieter than he had expected, tall, strong looking, with short black hair and a cleanly shaven face. By all accounts, he was objectively attractive, and, as determined by their conversations at dinner, seemed bright enough to not eat his shoes on a regular basis - an ability that was vitally important for a successful king. Though, that meal was not nearly enough time to get a good understanding of his son-in-law to be.

"You host an impressive collection of books." Jurrien pointed to the shelves behind them, easily housing over a hundred volumes.

"Thank you, Jurrien. Though, I must admit they are mostly from my predecessors. My father and grandfather mostly, with my father having read every single book on those shelves."

"And what of you?"

"I - I have not read so many. Perhaps a dozen."

"Hmm." The old king sucked on his teeth and lurched closer to the board, eyes scouring for their next move. Bishop? No, that would open his queen for the taking, and a rook for a queen is not a fair trade. Perhaps... the king deftly moved a pawn, hoping the young man would take the bait.

He did not. Jurrien frowned as, within just a few more short turns, the young king had soundly placed him in check-mate. Not a fair test. The king thought, admittedly not a very good chess player himself.

"What did you have in mind to discuss, Jurrien? I had thought we had most of the details down. The last piece was who would officiate." King Jurrien pursed his lips and let out a sigh from his nostrils. He tapped the tips of his fingers together across his stomach that had lost a small amount of bloat as digestion took place.

"How are you with a sword?"

"What?"

"A sword, how are you with it?"

"I - good. I am quite good with a sword. I have practiced since I was old enough to wield one properly." King Jurrien stood slowly from his seat and walked over to the doorway.

"King Jurrien...?" The king looked to his guards outside and waved for them to come forward. The two extended two wooden swords. King Jurrien took one in his right hand firmly, spun around, and tossed the second to the stunned king, who had just begun to stand. Jurrien leapt into the room and assumed a defensive stance.

"I am not going to duel you." King Phillipe placed the wooden sword on the chess board.

"A shame." King Jurrien switched to an offensive stance, sword tip pointed out. He gave a quick lunge, using his momentum to push his arm forward and plant the tip of the wooden weapon into the gut of King Phillipe. But he missed. Or, rather, the young king swiftly side-stepped away from the attack, grabbed up the wooden blade from the table and, using the movement from his side-step, spun himself around, swinging his sword towards the aging king. Leaping back, Jurrien reassumed his defensive stance, two hands on the hilt with the blade straight up and down in front of him. After a moment of either king awaiting the other to make a move, Jurrien stepped forward, first going with a feint to the young king's legs, allowing him to quickly flick his wrist up and swing for the torso. Phillipe was fast enough, though, and pulled himself back, smacking the wooden blade away with is left hand as he spun backwards, almost landing a blow to the old kings back with a sideways swipe. It would have landed, too, had the old king not fallen forward with his blade from the young king's swat. Staggering to his feet, the old king lunged forward, bringing his sword around and up to strike down on the future father of his grandchildren. In the split second before he struck downwards, he saw the young king calculate quickly, as he, instead of raising his sword to block, leapt forward, grabbing Jurrien by the waste with his left arm, swung him around, and threw him to the ground. Dazed, Jurrien looked up to see the wooden point of a blade staring back at him.

"Very good." Phillipe stepped back, putting his 'blade' to his side. Jurrien hopped back to his feet, taking his momentum to thrust his sword forward at the distracted king. Hitting him square in the gut, Phillipe let out a muffled grunt, smacking the old kings smile away with the edge of a wooden blade to his neck. The two kings stumbled back, staggered, and went back to their respective seats. Jurrien rubbed his neck, Phillipe held his stomach.

"What in the hells was that for?" The young king was now lounging back in his chair, hoping to give his wounded gut some breathing room.

"A test, of sorts. I wanted to get to know you, know who my daughter will be spending the rest of her life with. Who will be joining with my kingdom and ruling half of an empire with her."

"How does fighting with wooden swords tell you anything about me?"

"You refused to fight me initially, this was good. You are not quick to combat, and you know when to willingly jump at a challenge. The father to the bride should certainly be concerned if the bridegroom is so quick to start swinging." Jurrien watched as the anger in the young king's eyes began to diminish. His breathing returned to normal.

"Alright. What else?"

"When I would not take no for an answer, you were fast enough in your response to block my surprise blow. While you may not choose to jump into something without knowing all of the finer details first, you are quick to action when it is necessary. Thirdly, as we both waited for the other to make the next move after your first dodge, you showed me you are calm and calculated in intense situations. It would have been very easy to strike at an old man with the strength and youth of a young man, but you waited; perhaps you wanted to see if I was serious, perhaps you did not want to be the one to escalate. While I appreciate you holding back against an old man, you initially underestimated your opponent, though quickly adjusted when proved that I still had some strength in me. You showed quick thinking, smacking my blade away and using my open torso as a chance to take me down - a risky move, but it paid off. Finally, you showed mercy when I was defeated. While kind, it clearly proved to not be in your favor to do so. Even still, after being run through, you landed a killing blow to me as well. You showed you are calculating, quick-thinking, merciful, but relentless." The two kings sat in silence for a moment, each one still rubbing their battle wounds. Phillipe just stared at the old king, a quizzical look in his eyes.

"You gathered all of that from that little fight?"

"Yes."

"Would talking to me not have been easier? More effective?"

"No. I learned this in correspondence with your father - you Desramaux love to talk, making grand plans and then finally enacting them. You will come to learn that the Biljvank's have take a much more direct method to gathering information and utilizing it. Questions and conversations are wonderful when there is the time. We do not have the time. I had to get to know you quickly, so this is what we have done. Did you not learn anything about me from this?" Phillipe scratched his chin, staring blankly at the chess board before them.

"I learned we will not be discussing the wedding anymore today." Jurrien gave a grin.

"No, that is all settled. Pour me some wine, let us have a rematch." Phillipe eyed the chess board, and then the wooden swords on the ground.

"Let us start with a rematch in chess, shall we?" The young king handed Jurrien a full glass of diamond wine, clear, crisp, and extremely dry.

"I think that is a good idea. During which, we can do things your way. You can tell me all about your family, and I shall tell you about mine. Mind you, you shall have a similar conversation with Jolijn tomorrow. She cannot be queen of a people she does not know, though she has been studying on the noble houses of your vassals."

"Of course, Jurrien. I very much look forward to a more formal and personal time getting to know her before the wedding. She is stunning." Jurrien sipped from his wine.

"I know, she was fortunate enough to get both her looks and her intelligence from her mother. That is not to say she did not receive gifts from me."

"Such as?" Shit. King Jurrien took a large gulp from his glass. He will have to learn of her ziende, but that is not for me to tell.

"Her sense of humor, and her swordsmanship. It is your turn, do not keep an old man waiting."

Not a single rose. The Princess Jolijn sat quietly in the center of the Desrmaux Gardens. A square, roughly two-hundred feet on all sides, the gardens were the centerpiece of the castle's central courtyard. Directly in the center was a large flowerbed with a stone wall that, she presumed, had been decorated to appear as if it had been there for a millennium. Surrounding this flowerbed was a cobblestone walkway that encircled and then splintered off into four sections, each splinter making a path to the center of one of the four half-walls that separated the gardens from surrounding walkway which was partially housed beneath small outcroppings from the castle walls above. Besides the inner most circle of cobblestone, there were then two other, gradually larger circular paths, with four other pathways which connected the second and third circles that ran along the diagonal of the square. Thus, the gardens were symmetrically divided into sixteen flowerbeds, plus the one in the center to make seventeen. It was home to several kinds of beautiful flowers, bushes, and even some smaller trees like a fern, but, no rose bushes. While spring had only just begun and only the buds had begun to show on a few sparing branches and stems, Jolijn had been told by one of the gardeners some of the plants they planted each year: lavender, tulips, chrysanthemums, dahlias, azaleas, lilies, peonies, orchids, daffodils, carnations, even some hydrangea, lilac, and rhododendron bushes. But, no roses. By now, the princess had been able to walk much of the gardens, having taken the rest of the afternoon to allow herself some solitude as she came to terms with how the next week will alter the trajectory of her life forever, and whether or not that is something she desires. The prince - king, he was a king. Even if the coronation was rushed due to the wedding and Francois III's sudden and quick illness, he was no longer just a prince betrothed to a princess, but a king.

So strange that a sudden change of title can mean so much and have such a grand effect. At the end of the day, 'king' and 'prince' were only words, arbitrary combinations of letters based on the sounds our voices make in an attempt to assign a tangible meaning to a concept. A man who leads is a leader, but what if he amasses more power? A great leader? Then what? Greater leader? But there surely could never be a greatest leader, such a claim would lead to challenges and bloody conflict. So we as people have decided upon titles like 'prince,' or 'king.' Or even, 'Empress.' The thought sent a chill down the back of her spine. The prospect of attaining that title had become so much realer when she was no longer marrying Prince Phillipe, but King Phillipe. Their union would be solidified with the death of her father and her own ascension. Queen for only a moment, Empress for a lifetime. At least, that was the idea. So many of her relatives, close confidantes and loyal vassals seemed villainous and cruel in their attempts to dissuade her father. 'But my king, think of your lineage, of your namesake!' 'I have, Duke Vaars Zelderloo VII. But, instead of naming more and more of my offspring after myself, I have elected to make something greater for my descendants, something that requires some sacrifice. I would not expect you to understand.' Jolijn recalled the last conversation she sat in on prior to their leaving for the Desramaux Dynasty. Right up until the last moment, she knew, those around her who were supposed to support her, unite behind their future Queen and Empress, would instead seek any means to show their discontent. So few of their vassals had made the trek out west for the wedding. Many gave such excuses as the weather and the cost to leave their demesne for so long; father knew they were lying, and he let them know his disgust with them. 'Let them stay home in their keeps and sulk. If they truly cared for their people, for their own houses, as they so claim to, they would not act in such a way. They are selfish and spoiled, Jolijn. We must not let them get to us, we must be resolute in our decisions.' Of the nine dukes who were the direct vassals of the Biljvank Kingdom, four were traveling to attend the wedding: The Duchess Heerzijl, Duke Rodizijl, Duchess Mathieden, and Duke Alloopen. The Duke Zelderloo and Lutherloo outwardly explained they would not attend for reasons of principle, though not outwardly condemning the wedding. The Duke Van Niljveld sent his brother and older nephew, Lord Elco Van Niljveld and his son Stans, in his place, offering a half-hearted excuse to that of having to oversee the spring planting with his sons. The Duke Diependam is old and very ill, though he did not send another member of his family in his stead, while the Duchess Obbinkerloo simply said she hated traveling; at least she was honest. She wondered if the Desramaux were having as much difficulty with there vassals as well.

"Hello Jolijn." Prince Hein had been slowly making his way through the gardens for the passed ten minutes now, keeping his thoughts to the imagined beauty of the place when in full bloom. Sensing his approach, Jolijn had already begun to shift herself to greet him, but stopped to allow him to greet her first.

"Dearest Hein, how are you feeling this afternoon?" Hein took in a large breath of air.

"Quite good, actually, the slight amount of salt in the air from the nearby port I think has actually done my lungs some good. May I?"

"Actually, I was thinking I might walk the grounds, if you would care to join me?" The old prince smiled and, clasping his hands behind his back, walked beside the princess. After exiting the inner most circle and beginning the secondary ring, Jolijn put Hein in her peripheral to speak with him as they strolled.

"Do you find it curious they do not have rose bushes in their gardens?"

"I can not say I had noticed that yet. But, that would be curious indeed. Though, there seems to be much about this place that is curious." Hein looked up and squinted at the hydrangea bushes in front of them, stopping to inspect a single bud that was just beginning to show from the branch it was on.

"What makes you say that?" Do not. The princess used everything in her power not to read her cousins mind. It had become increasingly difficult, when in conversation with others, not to simply read their minds and get their responses before they have spoken them. She had almost tripped up last week with Larynwy, though, she supposed it would not have mattered much with her. Even still, Priest Volka had been expressly clear that the princess must only allow her most trusted friends and family members with the truth about her ziende.

"It strikes me as strange, I suppose, a lot of their, habits. Their colors are the same as ours, gold and black, simply reversed for their crest. Yet, whereas almost our entire wardrobes consist of endless patterns of black and gold and gold and black, they wear blues, greys, greens, and even reds. You and your father both wear your regalia, whereas King Phillipe wears no indication that I could find that he was king of these lands. They do not refer to each other by name, but relation. And their decor, while beautiful, is notably toned down when compared to that of Biljvank Castle and all of its resplendent tapestries, golden chandeliers, and ornate paintings. Here, there are tapestries to be sure, but they are smaller and present a history of a people, not a dynasty. But their candle holders are pewter, their chandeliers only silver, and what few paintings they have are that of the landscape surrounding here. It is all admirable, do not mistake my observations as being malicious. However, it seems as if they are a royal house that wishes no one knew that fact. And now, as you have pointed out, their crest is also that of a rose, but the only place it can be seen, as far as I can tell, is that of when you first enter the castle grounds. How many roses do you think there are in the gardens of Biljrend?" Princess Jolijn chuckled as she thought.

"I would say thousands."

"Possibly even more. It is almost entirely rose bushes!" The old prince threw his hands up into the air, emphasizing his statement. Recollecting himself, he pulled his jacket back down as it had lifted slightly with his arms raised. He coughed slightly and motioned for them to continue walking.

"I apologize, Jolijn. I suppose, these things interest me. What different people do and why, that is."

"And that is remarkable. I am glad your years of reading all of those books in your chambers were not wasted on someone who would loath such a thing. I do not suppose Rikkert would have faired so well?" Hein let out an abrupt but short laughter.

"No. No, he... No. Hunting was much more to his liking, that and horseback riding, fencing, jousting, running military drills - really everything I could never do. Which, I suppose, was for the best. It would have been a waste should our interests have been reversed. I am sure I would have been more of a black sheep to the family than I already am." Jolijn stopped in her tracks, a scowl having formed firmly on her face.

"You are not a black sheep, Hein. Why in the name of the gods would you have ever thought that?" Hein twiddled his thumbs slightly, Jolijn almost reached in to see what he was thinking, what he was really thinking, knowing full well she would not get the full answer to her question.

"I - well... My father, who you luckily only knew for a very short time, was, well - reassuring in the sense that I was a burden. But I thank you. It is good to hear that my thoughts are just that, thoughts and not reality." The two smiled at one another briefly, before Hein turned his head back to the trail and continued walking. They were now entering the third circle.

"Hein, I would like to ask something of you, and you have every right to refuse." She could immediately sense the spike in the old prince's anxiety. "There is no need to worry, I just do not want you to feel that you must accept, since I am to be your queen one day." She hoped that would calm him, but now feared he may question how she could tell he had grown anxious.

"Of course, ask away."

"When I am Queen, I will be in need of advisors. Well educated members of my court who I can trust and rely upon for information as well as advice. I would like it if you would accept such a position when offered." Hein froze mid-step before slowly lowering his raised foot to the ground. Jolijn saw brief snippets of memories; a young, sickly prince barred from exiting his bedchambers, never allowed to be a part of courtly dealings. She shut it out, not wanting to pry any further.

"I would be honored, Princess. Might I ask you something, now?"

"Yes, of course."

"What do you think of King Phillipe?" The princess felt her eyes flash, taken aback by the question, but now taking her time to think of a proper response.

"In what way?"

"Hmm. Any way you like. There has been very little time, but surely you must have an initial impression of the young king, no?"

"I do. He is quite proud, at least he seems to hold himself that way. At lunch, he already spoke with authority in his voice, but it did not feel forced. From what little there was for intellectual conversation during the meal, I could not glean much about his ideals or thought processes. But..." Have to be careful with this now. "I got the sense he is well educated, calm, and wants to hold noble ideals. I think he wants what is best for his people, even if he may not know what that is."

"Ah. You got all of that from such a short meal full of mostly empty conversation?" Jolijn felt her heart begin to pound.

"Umm - I... Perhaps I am being hopeful." Hein let out the air out of his nose quickly, mimicking a laugh.

"That gets us to what was really at the heart of my question then."

"Being?"

"Do you like him?"

Did she like him? She did not know him. He was conventionally handsome, yes. Maybe one day he would sport facial hair, though that was most likely a few years away based on how knew he was to shaving - a piece of information gained when he was focused on his meal. She only slightly regretted entering her future husband and co-monarch's mind; she was not only curious, but did have a desire to know him as best as she could before the wedding. Of course, how she knew so much about him while he knew so little of her would raise some eyebrows and need very well worded sideways answers.

"I do not know yet." The princess finally was able to stumble out of her mouth.

"Do you think he is attractive?"

"Yes. He is handsome." Hein grinned.

"I am glad to hear it. I must admit, your father had asked I check in on you, and he especially wanted me to ask you this. He said, 'base attraction was a good start.'" The two chuckled.

"I should have known my father would request such questions, never wanting to ask them himself. Though I am a little offended you did not simply want to join me in the garden out of a desire for my company." Hein blushed slightly.

"I apologize greatly, Jolijn. That was, of course, what brought me here to begin with. Without Rikkert here, I thought I could come keep you company instead. A better prospect than my mother, I assure you."

"I do enjoy your company, Hein. I wonder if it is how I would have been with Jurran today."

"Your brother did have the better qualities of both my brother and I."

"Since you did come here with a hidden motif, even if mild, I will take this opportunity to ask you something else."

"That is only fair." Hein smiled, eagerly awaiting her question.

"The other night, when we had stopped in Hemroux, I could have sworn I had overheard your mother say something and I... I wanted to ask for clarification." The old prince shrunk slightly at the prospect of discussing his mother.

"I will do my best, though I admit my mother's thoughts often allude me for a basis in reason."

"She said, something along the lines of, 'I am disappointed by this update. I know you will have better luck with the centaurs of the Hilleg.'" A shocked, then confused, and finally unknowing expression quickly took the old princes face, one after the other.

"I am afraid I have no idea. You know of the Hilleg, but I do not know. It sounds as if she was talking to someone, did you know who, or what the context of the conversation was?"

"I don't. I believe it was Rikkert, but -"

"But Rikkert has not been traveling with us."

"Right, so -"

"It does sound like she was writing a letter though. But my mother would never speak allowed what she was writing. Are you certain this is what you heard?" Jolijn's hands became sweaty as her mouth suddenly became a dry lair.

"I - um... just forget the whole thing." Hein's mouth was left a jar, as if ready to speak something else, some other question. He can not know. I should not have asked, damnit. But, before Hein could ask what Jolijn sensed he would ask, how she had heard Hekket, how she knew she spoke these words that would have only been thoughts, someone else approached them in the gardens.

King Phillpe, wearing a dark blue jacket over a white ruffled shirt, approached the prince and princess. He outstretched his right hand, in it, a single black rose.

"Princess Jolijn. I had this sent up from the south to ensure I could give it to you on your arrival. You look wonderful." The princess blushed as she accepted the flower from the king's hand. Hein, forcefully regaining his composure, hiding any sign of confusion or distress from their previous conversation, turned a bright smile to the king.

"King Phillipe." Hein said bowing.

"Oh, there is no need for that. By this time next week we shall be family, you shall be my cousin and I yours. Have you been enjoying the gardens? I do hope you are able to see them in bloom." The king pulled Hein up from his bow with his right hand as he motioned to the gardens with his left.

"I hope to as well, my imagination surely will not have done them justice."

"I do hope I am not interrupting your conversation. But, Hein, might I ask your leave?" Hein gave a puzzled look and then widened his eyes with a large inhalation.

"Yes, of course, your Highness. Err, Phillipe. Jolijn." Hein bowed his head before turning and exiting the gardens and courtyard.

"I would like to firstly extend an apology for my not being able to greet you properly when you arrived this morning. I am afraid your father quickly overtook me, his mind set on lunch."

"That is quite alright, when my father's mind is not focused on matters of the kingdom, his stomach takes priority. Though, I could not blame him. This afternoons meal was wonderfully prepared."

"I am glad you enjoyed it." Phillipe continued to speak briefly about the meal, how much care the chefs in their kitchens put into all of their dishes. However, Jolijn heard none of it. While she continued to exercise restraint in keeping herself from reading her future husband's - by the gods, future husband - mind, the princess had found herself drawn in by the gorgeous face before her. The king was thin, but clearly fit by the definition of his neck and jawline. His cheeks were lower on his face, causing an optical illusion that made his eyes look slightly larger than they actually were. That was not a problem to the young princess, though, as she soon found herself no longer worried about having to restrain her ziende. Phillipe's eyes were a dark brown, so dark, in fact, that you almost could not see his pupil at times. It was remarkable, and beautiful, but she could not understand why.

"Princess Jolijn?" She snapped back into focus, the king had finished speaking for a moment now and had caught on to her distraction.

"I hope I was not boring you with that. I thought you might like to hear about the quality of food you'll be enjoying this week and its preparation. Though, it may be folly to put such pride into such small affairs."

"Gods no! My deepest apologies, King Phillipe. The quail that sits delightfully in my stomach is all I need to know about how excellent your kitchens are here. You have every right to be proud of them and seek to show them off. I simply remembered something I wanted to ask you and was distracted for a moment at the end." Excellent. First ever one on one conversation with your future King, husband, and co-Emperor, and you've made it seem as though you could not care less for the things he had to say.

"That is quite alright. And, if it is not too presumptuous, I would like that you also refer to me simply as, Phillipe. Might I refer to you as Jolijn, or would you prefer I include your title?" Jolijn had to stop for a moment. She had never really thought of it before. Members of the Biljvank house always referred to her without her title, but anyone else - be they noble or commoner - called her Princess Jolijn. We will be family soon enough.

"Jolijn is good, Phillipe." The two exchanged awkward smiles. While neither were forced, the moment was awkward as neither quite knew what to say next. Jolijn's eyes shot open as she remembered.

"Right! My question. Why are there no rose bushes in this garden?" Phillipe scratched his chin and chuckled.

"I admit, this was not at all the question I anticipated. Have you had a chance to see the entire garden, then?"

"Yes. I wandered a bit on my own before being joined by my cousin, Hein. We both noticed the lack of your House's floral symbol and were very curious. The gardens of Biljvank Castle are nearly head to toe with roses." The young king smiled and extended his arm.

"I shall explain as we walk, if you will?" After a brief hesitation, Jolijn wrapped her right arm around his left as they began to walk side by side. His arm felt strong, strength that was well hidden by his jacket. A strange thought then came to her mind, one that she did not recall ever having before. She find herself hoping that he found her attractive. Damnit, Hein. Blaming her cousin's prying question for the sudden thought, she found herself fixating on it. She was also fit, with legs that had been strengthened from years of riding her horse. Her breasts, she believed, were of a good size; she could fit them most of them within her hands, and they could hold her dresses up fine. Breasts, of course, she hoped, were not the only thing the king found attractive. Surely he finds her long braids to be beautiful? They are the latest style in the court of Biljrend and her hair is well kempt. The princess had no large bits of scarring or other striations on her body that others might find unattractive. While she had never given much thought to it before, it had been brought to her attention once or twice - by someone other than her father - that she had beautiful eyes. King Jurrien II, ever the loving parent, has always reassured the princess that she was beautiful; however, a parents love can cloud their vision. She looked back to King Phillipe, who by now, as far as she could tell, was slowly leading them back to the center of the garden.

"You are right, we do not have a single rose in this garden. I can understand why you might find that strange, and, I admit, I found it strange at first too. My mother explained it to me once, shortly before her death actually. We are the rulers of this land, and the rose is a mighty symbol of our dominion over these lands. However, with just the land, our dominion holds no weight, without the people - the rest of natures bountiful variety - we are powerless. We do not grow the rose here, because there is more meaning in all of the other flowers who make the rose stand out. Does that make sense?" Phillipe paused just before the benches too look for a response.

"It does, and it's wonderful, truly. I wish we had such symbolism within our castle walls. My ancestors were more concerned with depicting our strength and grandeur; they sought to ensure those beneath them never forgot where they stood, and who they stood beneath." The pair took a seat beside one another.

"I gather by your description that that is not something you agree with?"

"No. I do not see the need to belittle those around us. I understand the desire to exhibit strength, but demonstrations of might can be interpreted as threats. I would like to change some of our castle décor, perhaps with some inspiration from here."

"Well, we do not have it all figured out either. Many have seen our approach as weak. We give our vassals too much power, too much leeway. My uncle, Thierry, believes that is what lead to the rebellion thirty-odd years ago, where my grandfather was assassinated. He believes it was his father's, my great-uncle Jean, quick response and brutality that won the day. My father, though, he... I think, I think he sought mercy and restraint to show his power." Phillipe looked away from the princess, brushing his hair back over his head.

"And who do you agree with?" The king turned back to Jolijn, she saw the pain in his eyes, the worry.

"I do not know yet. I saw my father rule over a prosperous people, and I would like to believe it was through just, wise, and merciful decisions. Though, I also understand my uncle's thoughts on the matter. My father spared the lives of the children of the Duke Pelariaux, despite his uncle pressing him to have them all executed. Uncle Thierry believes this was weakness, a show of mercy that has allowed others to take advantage of my father's reign. If there was little punishment for rebellion, what of less heinous crimes? What do you think?"

"I think killing children for revenge would have set a worse example than showing mercy. What Prince Thierry thinks of as justice, many would see as baseless cruelty. Instead of ruling through justice and prosperity, your father would have ruled through sword and steel. I imagine there might have been at least one other rebellion in his time, against his cruelty." Phillipe gave a small grin, putting his hand to his face, perhaps to wipe away a tear.

"This is refreshing. I am glad to find we agree on many things already. I - " But he stopped himself. He was going to say he looked forward to their marriage, she felt her heart race, partly nervous and partly mad at herself for allowing her ziende to slip.

"Yes?"

"I do not want to ask for bad luck. I may not put much faith into such a thing as luck, but I know there are those who wish ill for us on our wedding day. I do not want to let them have that." Jolijn slowly extended her right hand and placed it on his left. They sat like this for a moment, enjoying the cool evening breeze.

"Speaking of our wedding, there was something I had been wanting to ask about. It is - well... I do not know if you have thought much about this. Not that I have, spent much time thinking about it that is. I have spent very little time, of course. It would not be proper to spend too much time thinking about it." Phillipe pulled his hand back, concern having taken over his appearance.

"What?" Jolijn shifted slightly on her seat.

"Well... sex." The king pulled his head back before leaning in to look at the princess, eyes squinted.

"Sex?"

"I assume you - "

"Yes, yes. I... I know what sex is."

"And you have - ?"

"I - ? Oh! No. No. No I have never. Umm. I am familiar, of course with, the, uh, well... the process." Jolijn tried in vain to stifle a giggle.

"Alright, alright. I can see you are turning bright red. We can stop this topic."

"What? I am alright. I was just, surprised is all."

"Well, I hope it does not surprise you this much on our wedding night."

"That what does not - on, right. I think that answers your question on how much thought I have given this." Jolijn reined herself in, while the king slowly shrunk into his seat, face a light shade of pink. After a moment of silence, enough time for Phillipe to regain his composure, the king turned to her.

"What brought this question about?"

"My father."

"Why does that not surprise me. He has a very peculiar methodology to, well everything it would seem. Why would he have you ask this?"

"No. He did not want me to ask, I wanted to ask. He did, however, have a short and extremely uncomfortable conversation with me in Niljden about what I might have to expect. This was something my mother would have normally done with me, though she died in child birth when she had me."

"I am so sorry."

"For the conversation I had with my father, or my mother's death? Either way, it is appreciated." The two laughed lightly.

"So you thought you would ask me, then?"

"It was silly, I know."

"No, no it was not. It is something we will have to deal with in a week, if you can believe it."

"I do not know that I do yet. This is all very strange, and happening very quickly." The princess attempted to hide her nerves by shifting in her seat so her face was profiled to the king.

"Yes, very strange. I am glad it is you, though. That I am to marry. I hope you feel the same, or that you will. I want you to be happy." Jolijn smiled but did not turn to face him.

"I am glad it is you, also. I was nervous you would be this oaf, or harsh, or a complete idiot. But you are kind, and you are intelligent I can tell."

"I am afraid I have fooled you then. I am kind, but intelligent I am not."

"We shall see, will we not?"

"I suppose we will. It is nearing dinner, may I escort you to the dining hall?"

"That would be wonderful." Arm in arm, the young king and the young princess made their way through the gardens, out the courtyard, down the halls, and into the hall where the rest had been waiting for them.

"So, you are the famous Duchess Zelderloo." Prince Thierry sat by the window in his chambers, the first moon, Erush, was high in the sky and shining brightly through the room. Hekket Zelderloo sat opposite him, with a small table to separate them while it played host to their drinks. Thierry took a puff from his pipe before straightening his posture in his chair. The older woman before him impressed him with how she carried herself. Despite being the daughter of a lesser duke, she was able to maintain her and her sons high positions within King Jurrien II's court, securing the rank of general for her oldest, as well as greater power for her birth house. The Zelderloo's were granted greater autonomy in their lumber trade, as well as being given the contract to the bank of the kingdom with sole minting rights. All silver and copper coins that were freshly minted were done so with the precious metals from the Zelderloo Mines. No wonder the king kept her close to her, always able to keep an eye on her.

"I do hope my reputation is justified, as yours is. How many Delricians did your force crush during your last conflict with the Guilds?" The matriarch curled her lip as it touched her wine glass. Amethyst. A strong wine, no doubt for a strong woman.

"The numbers never much mattered to me. My people were made safe again, as simple as that." The two locked eyes, hers were as silver as her dress.

"You look after your own, then. Are always concerned with the safety of your people. For, without them, you have nothing, do you not?"

"Nothing at all. Except, a name." The old prince took a large draw from his pipe, slowly exhaling through his nose. Placing his pipe down on the table to swap for his glass, he put emerald wine to his lips. The dark green liquid cooled his mouth, then warmed his body.

"But what is a name without its people? I highly doubt anyone across the sea, on the continent of Ya'Qi, would care very much at all that I am the Duchess Zelderloo, or that you are Prince Thierry of House Desramaux."

"The people give the name its weight, yes, but it is up to those with the name to assign its value. If I did not care for my name, my heritage and legacy, what would it matter if those below me sought my leadership? I cannot utilize my name if I do not have those beneath me to stand behind it, this is true, but I am equally as powerless if I do not assign my own value to it then also."

"I take it your nephew thinks differently, then?" Thierry paused as he placed his glass back down on the table. The insolent boy, for he was only a child, would give their name no value at all. He would sell it to the market for a pittance, if only just to be rid of it.

"What do you think, Duchess Zelderloo? What do you think of a name?" The prince watched as the old duchess lit a cofferette, took in a long draw, and exhaled out the window.

"I think a name is everything, because ones family is everything. And what is your family? Your heritage, yes, your legacy, eventually. They are where you come from and what you are. To give your name less value, as you have put it, is to assign less value to your family and its members. To see all that they have done before you to bring you to where you are, and throw it all away."

"I am confused then, why you are so concerned with the name Biljvank then, Duchess Zelderloo." The woman shot Thierry a dirty look, her eyes squinted firmly, fire burning bright and almost reaching out for him.

"I may be a Zelderloo, but my sons are Biljvank, my husband was a Biljvank. I will never abandoned where I have come from, but I will equally hold onto my new family as firmly as my old. Any who dare say I am not a Biljvank will rue the day they spoke such foul things. I will save my family, both of my families, even if their current heads seek to destroy them. Someone must." Prince Thierry picked up his glass and raised it high.

"I will toast to that, Duchess. We may be the only sane members left in our respective families." Hekket raised her glass slightly before taking a large sip.

"That is sad, is it not? Those who most others would consider to be on the outside, the fringes of the family, are the most willing to do anything to save it."

"It is good we found each other then." Thierry attempted to puff from his pipe but found it empty.

"We can thank our mutual friend for that. I was surprised, delightfully so, that you had reached out to the Duke. I thought you hated the Pelariaux."

"I do." Thierry spoke with his pipe in his mouth, having refilled the bowl and lit a match. Taking several smaller puffs as the coffee inside took lite, the old prince took one long final draw before exhaling and placing his pipe back down. "But a desperate man will often seek help in the most unlikeliest of places."

"You are desperate, then?" The Duchess raised her right eyebrow to this.

"Yes. I have tried reasoning with my nephew, as well as my own brother and cousin. Only Claude and his son, equally mine, see the reason in my words. Understand the fear and struggle for our very survival we are facing."

"So then you are willing to do whatever is necessary?" Thierry looked to the Duchess, searching for the full meaning of her question within her eyes. The boy is a fool. He does not deserve to rule. Only I can put a stop to this. Only I can set this right. Only through my rule can our strength grow and solidify.

"I am." The Duchess finished her cofferette, another long, slow draw. She did not take her eyes off of Thierry's as she exhaled the puff of smoke. Her spindly arms extended to her glass, pulling it to her lips to finish its contents. She snapped her fingers and, silently, from the shadows of the room, her servant approached to refill her drink. The boy was no more than seventeen, short, messy brown hair decorated a plain face. Niels was his name, he went everywhere with her. I had almost forgotten he was there.

"You should know, then, that my plan does have the chance to go awry. That in this event, certain contingencies have already been set in place to deal with the consequences of a failure."

"I am glad to hear this. I had assumed a woman of your stature and intellect would have done so, Duchess." Niels slowly reentered the shadows of the room, Hekket taking a dainty first sip of her dark purple liquid.

"You also must know, then, that some of these contingencies have contingencies of their own. Specifically that which concerns your most hated vassal, the Duke Pelariaux." Thierry smiled at this. Of course Guyard would make demands. It was very much like him, the slimy Pelariaux, to take something for himself and his brood whenever the chance presented itself.

"He seeks independence, yes?" The Duchess' eyes went wide.

"Forgive me, but it surprises me that you seem to have known."

"What else would he have had the audacity to ask for? It comes as no surprise that loathsome excuse for nobility would seize upon the plight of my House to empower his own."

"Did you not seek out his allegiance as well?"

"I did, I knew he would leap at the chance, and so he has. You may tell him it will be granted." The Duchess curled her lips into a malicious grin.

"I do not believe you."

"No doubt he will not either. But we all must take risks now, do we not?" Thierry took up his pipe and drew long, allowing the warmth of the burning coffee to fill his lungs to their fullest extent.

"So we do, and so I shall I write to him immediately. He wanted the letter delivered by hand." The old prince smiled and laughed to himself.

"I am not surprised. Send my son, then. Louis will deliver the message."

"Very well, Prince Thierry."

"No, then. I would like to ask something of you, Duchess. What is this plan of yours?"

"To save our families and their legacy."

"Through what means? Obviously you have prepared yourself and, now by extent, myself with allies from across both kingdoms. You anticipate a war if you fail. You may even anticipate a war if you succeed. It must be something drastic, such problems require drastic solutions. By what means will you solve our mutual problem?" The old prince watched as Hekket let her lips sink back into their natural frowning position, brows slightly furrowed and eyes trying to pierce his chest.

"I did not take you for a fool, Prince Thierry. I should like to think I was not mistaken."

"You were not, Duchess. But I have had enough of this talking around the subject. We have been so careful with our words, so wise in how we say what we say and to whom we say what to. Be forthwith to me. What we are doing is treason, and by all rights wrong in the eyes of the gods. Our own blood, our own flesh, our own family will be wounded by our actions."

"Are you getting cold feet?"

"Our actions have been made necessary by the foolishness of our own flesh and blood. But how can we take such actions if we are not even able to say them allowed to one another?" The Duchess Zelderloo allowed her small grin to return to her face. It was not one meant for comfort, the prince was sure she did not own such a smile in her arsenal. Rather, it was a knowing smile, a pleased smile for all of the wrong reasons. The two met eyes, each understanding the meaning behind the others, and raised their glasses.

"I mean to have the bride and groom killed. King Jurrien II as well." Thierry felt the weight slide off of his shoulders, only to be filled with a sense of dread as realization set in. There was no backing down now. It will be done. He will be king.