Danya
He may not have started off the day in the happiest of moods, but Danya hadn't expected the sudden, overwhelming unease that followed after laying eyes on his childhood friend. He should be happy to see him--and he was, rightly so--but the shock and strange circumstances was enough to sap whatever joy he could have expected at their reunion.
Now, Danya followed after his aunt like a brow-beaten child. His gaze trailed the floor as they made their way towards the hall where they would receive their guests for the night. His aunt rattled off reminders of etiquette and cordialities that Danya couldn't bring himself to focus on. The closer they got to the moment of reckoning, the more Danya wanted to skip the event altogether.
Graydon was both a concept he hated and a man he…
"
Danya!" Aysha whispered curtly.
Danya jolted. His aunt had stopped at the doors to the main hall--only, Danya had failed to notice. She called his name right before he tread on the backs of her heels. Aysha's voice stunned the guards at the entrance and they regarded the pair with curious expressions.
"
You will
be present this time, Danya! This is not a time to get lost in your thoughts." Aysha spoke these words to him without turning--she didn't need to. It was enough to take him back ages to a simpler time when his aunt would accost him and Alexei for staying out too late.
Little did she know he had spent those long days with the very man he was afraid to see.
Danya cleared his throat. Instead of responding to his aunt, Danya addressed his guard instead. "Open the doors."
Aysha succeeded on hiding her shell-shocked expression, but she could not hide the slight tick of a nerve over her left brow. Danya smirked, threw his aunt a gracious smile and entered the main hall.
He almost winced at the brilliant assault of colors that met his eyes. His guard and servants had done a wonderful job remaking the place--if only to something he'd have expected of the late king. The high, vaulted ceilings, resplendent as they were in design, seemed to disperse the colors of the brightly colored linens and tapestries below. It was majorly overwhelmingly and all too much Tuzkayan.
Danya wasn't sure if he liked it.
The floor had been scrubbed and rugs thrown about. Cushions lined the walls for the guests to recline and enjoy their drink. Low tables were heavy with fruits and sweetmeat. The musicians seemed to have relaxed somewhat from their earlier stiffness. They were now playing with such gusto and animation that they were hard to differentiate from the dancers themselves.
The dancers. Danya looked to the center of the room where everyone's attention was gathered. It was a trio of girls from a village further down the river from his own. Danya could bet with favorable odds that at least one of them had known his late cousin Alexei.
The happy memory of his cousin brought a smile to his lips and for the first time since he had seen Graydon, he finally relaxed.
The girls wove about each other in their silks until they settled in a line. The music switched up and they began the prancing dance native to their region. Their willing audience began to clap along, laughter and enjoyment heavy in the air.
Danya could be this way, too. Light, carefree. He would have to be--lest all his work be for naught.
Sensing a presence to his right, Danya cast a glance back at his aunt who was watching both him and the room warily. As Chamberlain, she would stay in the fringes, making sure the wells never ran dry and the guests were appropriately entertained. Danya gave her an apologetic smile and a nod and Aysha just stared.
Shit.
He would have to be on his best behavior for the rest of the night.
Danya scanned the crowd as he decided his plan of attack. He would address the guests at the fringes and move his way in. Wherever Graydon might be, he'd make no special trip of it, getting to his old friend in due time. Danya didn't want to send the wrong impression, of course. Overeager actions in this setting were sure to stir up rumors and it was no particular secret that their two kingdoms weren't on the best of terms.
"Sir."
Danya turned immediately to the voice coming from his left. He smiled when he saw who it belonged to. "I trust the Prince of Dein to now be in a stable condition?"
The shorter man came side-to-side with Danya. The lines around his eyes crinkled with mirth but his smile wasn't much of one. "It was a good decision to send me after him, though he denied my assistance. The boy is young and fair. I suspect it may have been nerves more than anything else."
Danya cast Akmal a look. "You're not that much older than him."
Akmal met Danya's eyes this time, a perplexed expression on his face. "You speak with such certainty."
Danya blanched. He looked back towards the crowd as he tried to regain his composure. "I take no pleasure in being a naïve Commander, Akmal. I do my research." Danya smiled as derisively as he could muster, knowing that Akmal would take it in stride.
Akmal chuckled and Danya visibly calmed. Akmal seemed satisfied enough with the answer. He didn't leave, though, which led Danya to think there was more that he wished to share. He waited patiently for his comrade to continue.
Akmal was never one to rush. He finally spoke some seconds later. "There are whispers, sir."
Danya's expression darkened.
"As I moved through the crowd, I heard some speculating that the Prince of Dein's reaction was planned. As a way to discredit your authority, I assume."
Danya's jaw tightened. He knew the true reason why the Prince had left so suddenly. "I would expect no less."
"You handled it well, sir. Though I'm sure some may make their own assumptions about the refusal of the gift."
"I refused all gifts."
"Perhaps none quite so vocally," Akmal glanced at Danya. "You will never do anything right," he intoned.
Danya dropped his head and laughed. "You are right. And that is why
everything must simply be done my way."
"A good strategy…" Akmal shrugged, "in theory. Certainly more satisfying, I would think."
This comment seemed to dispel Danya's bad humor. He smiled again.
"If you'll excuse me, friend, I have some dignitaries to entertain." Danya squeezed Akmal's shoulder as he moved away. Not only was Akmal the designated court physician, he was also Danya's eyes and ears. They shared the same ethnic group and had gravitated towards each other over the years. They had both started off as young recruits in the King's army before they were head-hunted to serve the rebellion. It hadn't taken much convincing--their villages were the hardest hit by the prior King's deadly ambition.
It hadn't taken long for their esteemed guests to relax and acclimate to the comforts of Tuzkayan hospitality. Danya found it funny that the foreign female dignitaries all stood in favor of joining the Tuzkayan nobility on the cushion laden floors. Most likely due to those restrictive dresses they insisted on wearing.
Princess Maria of Peros was one such lady. It didn't help she stood out like a sore thumb with that hideous number she had on. Her traveling party looked ready to drop from exhaustion but since their princess insisted on standing, so, too, must they.
Danya pulled one servant and requested they bring an ottoman for the lady. Danya approached her party.
"Your Highness," Danya inclined his head in respect. Princess Maria's party scrambled to face him.
The princess bodily turned towards him, further evidence that she couldn't really move in that get-up she wore.
"Commander," she dipped in a shallow curtsy, her eyes bright. When Danya met her gaze, she blinked and quickly averted her eyes, a rosy blush tinging her already rouged cheeks.
She had kind eyes, Danya noted. She was young, though, still growing into her own. "I wanted to personally thank you for your attendance today. I myself have never been to Peros, but I hope with our continued relations I may have the honor of visiting your country some day."
Princess Maria replied in equally gracious, if formulaic, banter. As she was speaking, the servant he had sought earlier appeared with a delicately embroidered ottoman. It was ornate and bore the recognizable designs common to their empire.
"Please, your travels have been long and I would wish you to relax as well. It is our culture to recline among cushions rather than chairs, but our ladies find these settees to be adequate in preserving their honor--and their knees."
Princess Maria balked. Danya rewound in his mind what he had just said.
…
Perhaps that hadn't come out quite right. Nervous sweat beaded down the center of his chest. It made him itch.
Eventually, the princess smiled wanly (had he unintentionally debauched the princess with his tactless honesty?!) and moved to sit down on the ottoman that had been offered. Her eyes widened as she squat down, seemingly surprised she was able to.
"My, these are much easier. How gracious of you, Commander," Princess Maria smiled delicately. Her blush was deeper than ever.
Danya quickly said his goodbyes and moved as swiftly away as he could manage without giving the impression he was running away.
If he couldn't even handle small talk with the visiting dignitaries, how could he even begin to think he'd be able to stomach the same with Graydon?
As Danya continued visiting, the more he stole nervous glances about the room. He was trying to determine his position in relation to the guest he both dreaded and looked forward to meeting. Among the dark-colored heads, he was sure to see one sporting russet colored hair. In each of his scans, though, Danya failed to pinpoint Graydon's position. Had Graydon retired for the evening? Akmal would have mentioned as much--right?
As Danya greeted the nobility of his own court--an extremely painful and entirely necessary procedure in and of itself--he finally saw
him. Or what he thought was him. No--who he knew to be him. Danya paused in the middle of his sentence.
The group of nobles gathered around him looked at Danya expectantly. He had just been telling them of his plans to rebuild and support those who remained loyal to Tuzkaya when the commander abruptly stopped, his gaze somewhere off to his left. Some of the gathering followed his gaze. It was their movement that alerted Danya to his mistake.
He wasn't certain he could recover this situation.
What if they had seen? The imposing commander scrambled for a way to smooth over his mess.
"F-forgive me--a thought suddenly came to me," Danya's voice came out breathy and light. He blinked hard as he struggled for composure. When he opened his eyes again, a smile ghosted his lips and he leaned in towards the group as if sharing the world's greatest secret. "I've kept this to myself. I thought it would be an impossible venture on my own, but I failed to see the wealth of knowledge and influence that exists around me…" Danya made a point to meet the eye of every single noble gathered around him as he attempted to dazzle his impromptu audience with promises of building schools and museums to teach Tuzkaya's history. The Tuzkayan people were a prideful people--it would do a world of good to build morale and reiterate his vision of rebuilding their struggling country. It was a safe enough proposition Danya could use to bullshit his way out of his earlier faux pas, and an easy enough one to follow-up on if the distrustful nobles held him to it.
He's here. Graydon's right here.
Danya forced himself to focus on his guests at hand. His audience grew silent, as if mulling over his proposition. The commander had hinted at the nobility's role in teaching Tuzkaya's history. Danya didn't know if he had succeeded in distracting them, but they seemed intrigued. Intrigued--and a little suspicious. They knew he wanted to win them over and they also knew they held the power in this situation. Without dallying further and getting himself in to promises he didn't want to make, Danya thanked his gathered crowd and stepped away.
I need to get it over with. If I don't acknowledge him now, I may as well snub the Deinian Empire. It won't due to put our court at a disadvantage before we've had a chance to make a difference in the world.
He would speak to Graydon next. Danya began to move in his old friend's direction.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lady Sitora watched as the Commander-in-Chief addressed the flaky noble families who had once swore allegiance to the Tuzkayan king. She tried her best not to roll her eyes. These types were easy targets for a new regime. She found it downright humorous that the man had yet to address her and her family.
She refilled her cup of wine. As she stood arms crossed near the refreshments table, Lady Sitora scanned the area, picking out the Tuzkayan nobles from the foreign nobility.
Look at them all, Lady Sitora thought to herself,
selling out our country for a few glasses of wine. For nobles like Lady Sitora, this event was like salt in the wound. They had been hunted, threatened for any sign of dissent, and now, here they stood, smiling for the same group who demeaned and cursed them.
"It's sickening," Lady Sitora hissed before she realized it. She quickly took a swig of wine in hopes that no one had heard her.
When she looked out at the gathering again, her eyes fell on the handsome Prince that she had had the honor of speaking with earlier. Would it be too forward to approach him again?
Not if it was for the sake of Tuzkayan hospitality.
Lady Sitora quickly set her glass down on the table so that she could use two hands to discreetly adjust herself. Satisfied that her cap was still there and her "figure" perky, she took up the glass once again and moved toward the Prince of Dein.
This time, it wouldn't be so easy to approach him. Like many of the visitors gathered there, their traveling parties swarmed them--likely a safety measure to prevent a possible attack should anyone prove stupid enough. She would have to approach carefully.
"Your highness!" Lady Sitora called from the fringes. She lifted to the tips of her toes so she could be seen over the sea of moving bodies. She waved delicately in the Prince's direction. "I was fretfully worried about you earlier. Are you well?"
Lady Sitora recognized some of the faces around the Prince from before. It was a social gathering--surely they wouldn't deny the Prince's opportunity to interface with the local elite?
As Lady Sitora smiled in the Prince's direction, she noticed a dark figure approaching from the side. Her face fell somewhat when she recognized who it was. Luckily, she managed to plaster a fake smile in its place before he was fully upon them.
"Commander. It is a pleasure to officially meet you," Lady Sitora spoke. She almost forgot to bow, and when she did, the motion was stiff and regretful.
Danya's internal mantra was interrupted by a woman who looked less than pleased to meet him. He looked at her and then in the direction of his old friend. He couldn't really bring himself to meet Graydon's eyes, though. Addressing this noble was safer. He regarded the Lady fully before allowing a patient smile. "The pleasure is all mine, my Lady. I regret that we have not been formally introduced. From what house do you reign?"
"Lahouti. Lady Sitora of Lahouti," Sitora spat over the lip of her wine glass, eyes barely hiding her distaste.
Her expression wasn't lost on Danya. He smiled again as he inclined his head respectfully (and with much internal chagrin),"Lady Sitora. And this… this must be the Crown Prince of Dein. Welcome and thank you for coming."
What on earth else could Danya possibly say in this situation? He hoped he didn't look nearly as frightened as he felt.