What We Are || Sansa Stark & Lillian Gray

[Lillian Gray]

[fieldbox="Hannah Sweden; The Lovely Maid, #eb9dd0, solid, 10"]"My Lady, please, even just Alexander is fine. There's no need for you to call me by any titles." Alexander smiled slightly. That, and they were engaged. He was only calling her Lady to help her become accustomed to her new title. "You need not worry about whether it pleases me or not, but I imagine a bath would be soothing for you. Hannah? Would you..."

"Of course!" The excitable girl clasped her hands together and then bounded towards Jocelyn with a bounce to her step. Her hands hovered around the muddy girl with the careful intention not to touch her skin. She seemed rather averse to anyone making eye contact, touch was out of the question. "Follow me this way, alrighty? The bathroom is just this way."

"Oh, Hannah, here." Alexander quickly exchanged something in the doctor's hands and his own before passing it on to the blonde haired girl. "The ephedra. There should be some matches in the drawer on the right, with the extra candles."

The maid ushered the slave away without so much as brushing against her dingy clothes. The decorated lounge was soon out of sight and out of mind. Hannah led Jocelyn just beyond Alexander's room, and opened the door so they could both enter. A new sight was born before both the girls' eyes, freshly polished tiles and a tub that could fit ten, the level's main bathroom was luxurious and pristine. Three gray marble steps led to the brim of of the tub, yet to be filled with any liquid. It sat in the very center of the room, which was only divided by a shower hiding behind the tub, concealed by a glassy wall. If one were to walk around either side of the tub, they could easily access the shower if they didn't have the patience to fill the large bathtub.

"There's a shower if you go around back there, yeah?" Hannah pointed to the open walls. "It might be a minute before the tub fills all the way, then you can soak as long as you want! Don't mind me, I'll get it all ready for you."

Hannah rolled up the baby blue sleeves of her dress, the very same one she'd worn at Alexander's soiree. There hadn't been a minute between the fiasco and the present for her to change. She didn't care that it would get soaked if she helped Jocelyn. The slave girl deserved more than a bath and a bit of pampering, therefore Hannah could get wet for a few minutes. Clothes would dry, fabric could be restitched. That girl needed all the mending Alexander could offer her with her new status as a royal bride.

"You have so many brothers!" Hannah remarked as she busied herself preparing a nice hot bath for Jocelyn. "I only have the one, his name is Nathan. I have two sisters, though. Still! I bet they all must adore you. You're their baby sister!"

She raised herself out of the tub and shook the suds from her hands. They landed in puffs back inside the tub, rising and foaming with a gentle sent of vanilla and a hint of strawberries. It was a mix of her own liking, one she hoped Jocelyn would find pleasing. Hannah found the matches Alexander pointed out for her and began to find the best places to light the ephedra without burning the tile. There was a small soap dish on the edge of the tub with enough surface space for it to burn without causing a problem, and at the same time Jocelyn could stay in the tub.

"I can light this when you're ready as well, would you like some help changing?" Hannah turned on her heel with her arms held out towards Jocelyn. "It's alright, we're both girls, no one will ever have to know if you don't want!"[/fieldbox]

 

[moffnat]

[fieldbox=Jocelyn McDowell; The Suffering Slave, seagreen, solid, 0, georgia]Would wonders never truly cease? The guest bathroom of the prince's personal floor was nearly twice the size of the home Jocelyn and her brothers inhabited in the stalactites of Dale, ramshackle and broken as it was. I'd feel like a queen if I could have a space like this. Even just a bathroom. Jocelyn's jaw dropped in the slightest bit to soak it all in, figuratively and literally as the water of the tub began to steam. Mere seconds after there was enough water in the massive marbled space, Jocelyn shameless stripped of the rags and climbed in to the assurance of muscle-soothing warm water. A little groan of joy escaped chapped lips, eyes closing in utter relaxation. A portion of her stress was chipped away as the liquid massaged the soreness Jocelyn felt all over her body. She dunked her head below the surface and didn't hesitate to start scrubbing the dirt from her pores as if it would wipe away everything that happened, and return her back to the inn with her family to laugh over Jacob and Liam's unheard tale.

That isn't gonna happen, though. I'll never hear that story. Jocelyn looked down at the crusted mud flicking off of her pale skin, and hoped her parents and brothers could experience a cleanliness like this before they all returned to a life so passionately hated.

When the other woman spoke, it took a moment for Jocelyn to register the sound. "Hm? Oh. Apologies miss, I didn't know you'd started talkin'." She cleared her throat and tried to distract herself from the events of the night, no matter how badly she yearned to will it all away and succumb to the world of dreams. "My brothers love me very much, miss. I didn't meet the oldest three until Peace Week each year, though. They'd had their Choosings before I was born or before I could hold a memory. I really only have significant memories of growin' up with the younger three. But I live with Jon now, or lived..."

"Oh," came the maid's saddened reply. "I'm so sorry. I forgot about all that Choosing stuff, to be honest. I'm so forgetful. That's an awful thing to have to go through."

I don't wanna think about them. I don't wanna think about none of it. She swallowed the lump in her throat and pushed on silently through her cleansing work.

When Jocelyn had finished becoming new once again, the blonde offered to brush out her hair and help her dress in the gown selected for her. Settling in a chair before the vanity, Jocelyn slipped her fingers over the pale silk while the teeth of a brush and the heat of a dryer ran through waist-length chestnut curls. "Is this a ball gown?" Jocelyn inquired with shocked curiosity. "It's so soft. I don't have to go to another party, do I?"

"No, silly! It's a nightgown. You sleep in it." The maid gave a brilliant beam. "You have beautiful hair by the way, my lady! So thick and curly."

"Thanks you, miss." Jocelyn cleared her throat and sat back in the chair, waiting for the blonde to be finished with her work. It felt quite nice, having someone brush her hair so gently from scalp to tip. It reminded Jocelyn of her mother, each morning as the Culceth sun rose high in the sky. Moments later the slave was pulled from those memories and allowed to slip the silk nightgown over her skin, tying the robe about her waist. The fabric hugged the curves of her figure, and the clean face she saw in the mirror was almost foreign and unnatural.

I look...healthy. Almost. I'm still a bit too thin.

"Uhm...am I to go to bed now, miss?" she inquired, turning back to the maid.

"Only if you want, my lady! I bet you're super tired. Let's go say goodnight to Alexander and then get you settled in to sleep somewhere, okay?"

"Okay." Jocelyn followed the lead of the bubbly girl and padded out into the foyer once more, the fresh air of her surroundings finally able to penetrate her skin with refreshment. She folded her hands in front of her and lowered her eyes as Prince Alexander came into view, soft brown curls falling forward as she did so.

"Thank you for the bath, Your Highness," she stated with a hint of anxiety in her tone. "...oh, and thank you for letting me borrow this gown. I, uhm. I believe it is time for me to go to bed...?"

This is much later than a slave should be allowed to stay up. she thought in mild panic. I don't wanna get in trouble. I can't handle no more.[/fieldbox]

 

[Lillian Gray]

[fieldbox="Alexander Blackwood; The Last Good Man, #166b22, solid, 10"]"Alex, I don't know what to say." Cameron blurted. Between shuffling his feet, and pulling at his collar, the man was a right mess. He'd had one too many drinks that night, and not enough time in between. The Lord's cheeks were flushed and his top felt too heavy for his frame. Anna was at his side, her hand traced circles across his back in an attempt to calm her husband. "It's not like I could've rushed the stage or anything to help. He's still the King."

"I know, Cameron, I know." Alexander pressed his hand to his temple and sighed. "I didn't expect anyone to help, you're fine."

"But you aren't!" Cameron shouted. "And she's not, look at her! Poor thing must be terrified. There's gotta be something you can do!"

"Just drop it. Please. Go home, both of you." Alexander shook his head. He was tired, so tired. William's disgusting act of decisions had drained him both physically and mentally, if he had to stand much longer he was fearful he'd soon drop to the floor with exhaustion. Cameron wasn't helping the situation in any way.

There wasn't anything he could say to Cameron, the man was still buzzed from the party. Half of whatever the group said wouldn't be processed through the alcohol still spilling around in his stomach. Anna was doing her best to keep him standing straight, but even her attempts seemed futile once he started his offhand rant about the King and his injustice. Cameron swung an arm out and nearly knocked both Anna and Alexander in the face. At that point, the Prince had had enough of his friend.

"Goodnight, Cameron. We can speak about this tomorrow once you've sobered up." Alexander spoke with a regal authority that hinted at his irritation. Anna took the hint and led Cameron towards the landing space outside. The fresh air would do him good, and this way Alexander could close the doors on him, and tune out his slurred voice. When the pair left, a small helicopter came to take them away, Arthur and Alexander sighed in tandem. With their parting, the floor quieted, and the only people in attendance were those who truly needed to be present. That being Alexander, Jocelyn, Arthur, and Hannah. The doctor was merely on standby in case of emergency.

Arthur and Alexander made eye contact for a brief moment, the latter looked away hastily and rubbed the back of his brown head of hair. Arthur chuckled at the sight of the Prince acting so modest. Now that they were alone, the men could both relax. Arthur had been wound up from making sure the royal siblings didn't throttle each other's throats. He'd been ready to tackle the Prince, but not the King. His nerves would need a while to calm down before he could get right back to keeping his usual stern face.

"In case you were wondering, all those girls made it home." Arthur commented. "You did a good thing today, Alexander. Your mother would be proud of you."

Alexander shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. Being told he did something good was different than doing the deed, he didn't want to be recognized for a decision that should've been plain sense. It was like being told he did well after putting on his tie in the morning. Something so natural to him didn't feel deserving of praise. Saving those girls from William was something any decent human being would've done. To be told as such made him feel awkward, but he couldn't place why. "I did what I thought would be right."

"That still stands. You saved them, and you saved her. Not everyone would've done the same." Arthur nodded his head towards the bathroom door and smiled. "You may be young, but you have a good head on your shoulders."

Before the Prince could formulate a proper reply, he heard the familiar creak of a door being opened. Hannah skipped out first, all smiley and upbeat as usual. Behind her followed Jocelyn. The moment Alexander's dark blue eyes caught sight of her, his mouth dropped open on its own. Now that she was cleaned, she looked entirely different, and incredibly radiant. The brown hair which Alexander had only recognized in thick clumps was actually a shade lighter, a lovely chestnut brown which rolled down her back in soft waves. It was much longer than he'd imagined. Her skin was paler yet, now that it was cleaned from the mud and grime that stuck to her from her fall, and she glowed in the dim lights of the lounge. Alexander had to stop and give her another look before he found the words to speak. He wasn't sure it was her. The only detail which let on that the muddy slave girl from before was the same were those eyes of her.

Those wonderful, aquamarine eyes.

"You don't need to thank me." Alexander nearly stumbled over his own words, praying he wouldn't do the same with his feet as he stepped closer to Jocelyn and tried to get a look at her face, but she avoided him still. "Jocelyn? You don't have to look down you know." Even still, she averted his gaze. So he frowned, but didn't let it show that he was somewhat disappointed he wasn't able to convince her she was going to be alright.

She looks so lovely, it's a shame I cannot see her face.

"Would you come with me? I'll show you to a bed." Alexander held out his arm in a polite invitation. "Well, it's my bed, but it's much more comfortable. It's the least I can do right now."[/fieldbox]

 

[moffnat]

[fieldbox=Jocelyn McDowell; The Suffering Slave, seagreen, solid, 0, georgia]"Your bed?!" Jocelyn instantly protested to the prince's suggestion, but the reassurance of his maid quieted the growing panic. "Don't worry, my lady. He's not going to sleep in there with you. I'll get you some pillows and a blanket for the couch, Alex! Goodnight, Lady Jocelyn." She gave a boisterous wave and skipped off to take care of her task, leaving the slave in the care of a royal who had laid waste to all of Jocelyn's negative expectations. It took a moment for her heart to return to a regular rate.

Prince Alexander offered his arm to her and waited patiently for a response, any at all, and in light of recent events Jocelyn decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. One bit of contact won't kill either of us, right? He saved my life. She extended her hand and placed it as light as a feather atop his arm's offer for assistance, walking down the long hall in pace with him at her side. The silence that surrounded them was strenuous and awkward and Jocelyn had absolutely no idea how to remedy the situation. They were strangers from entirely different worlds tossed into an illegal mix of castes, bound by a sudden and previously forbidden engagement. Would they have anything in common? Could they manage to spark a friendship over the many years to come, the decades in which they would be forced together as man and wife?

Don't think about it, Josie. You'll just panic again. Don't think about it at all. Just sleep the night away, and come mornin' you can give it a bit more attention.

She didn't need to be told twice. When Jocelyn was shown into the familiar room and assured that the bed was hers and hers alone, the slave cautiously climbed atop the great cloud of a mattress and buried deep in fresh blankets, recently swapped from the muddy ones she had stained. She took a deep and comforting breath through fragile lungs. This whole bed smells like him. Like musk and old books and somethin' else I can't name. It's...nice.

The prince wished her goodnight and she returned the favor, drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

---

CHAPTER II: QUESTIONING FATE
JANUS 5, YEAR 2418 CE
​

A glittering morning sun peeked through maroon curtains, illuminating her face with the gentle alarm of dawn. Jocelyn groaned and stretched out her exhaustion, surrounded by the comforts of the prince's warm bed. For a moment her panic was suddenly present and the slave feared she might have slept in too late. The punishment for tardiness to the mines was five lashings and the absence of a midday meal. But this isn't Dale, she remembered with a little sigh of relief. I'm in Archaedon, in the Tower. In Prince Alexander's bed.

God, how did any of this ever happen?

Jocelyn had decided the night prior that she would stave off all contemplation on the night's events for when she awoke the following morning, but even then she was wholly unprepared to deal with the situation at hand. In the midst of all the chaos that the hours after sunset had brought, she took away only a few key points from the royal mess. First, the king had stolen her from her family and tossed her in a lineup before at least half the nobles in Archaedon. Second, the prince had chosen her in order to save her from a cruel fate. Third, her family would enjoy the rest of Peace Week and return to Dale without her. And finally, she was to be the prince's bride.

Is he insane? she pondered, absent of any joke. I'm a slave, this is bad. Bad for both of us. Nothin' good'll come outta this, I just know it. Jocelyn sat up and glanced anxiously to the empty space at her side, trying to imagine the face of Prince Alexander glancing up at her with a blank expression. Would he smile in morning greeting or would his face turn sour with disgust? Her gut believed that it knew better than to question what look he would give, but the years of being a slave doubted that a man of his stature could ever smile to a girl like her. Jocelyn forfeited the topic in search of a more peaceful day and crawled lazily out of bed, rearranging the blankets and pillows as best as she could before examining the room in a fresh light.

On a table near the vanity laid a simple blue dress with a cream-colored belt and matching shoes, nowhere near as elegant as was surely expected of her, but perfect for comfort. The maid must've laid this out for me. She's real nice. Jocelyn pulled the nightgown over her head and slipped the new items on, tossing her hair into a high and messy bun. She looked in the mirror and still saw part of a stranger looking back, knowing such expensive fabric and tailoring didn't belong on the likes of her. But here I am. Here I am, somehow...and my face is still the same. I'm still me.

Cautiously, Jocelyn opened the great steel door. She peeked her head out from the room and looked both ways, seeing no shadows and hearing no voices. Am I the only one awake? What time is it? She quietly slipped from the prince's chambers and out into the main foyer, hands fumbling, searching for someone to talk to for direction. But upon her realization that she was truly alone in this section of the tower, she decided that perhaps a bit of exploration wouldn't hurt despite her hesitations.

It was impossible to believe that this place would become her home.

Jocelyn poked through a few of Prince Alexander's massive bookshelves and attempted to decipher the words on some of the pages, thought she was completely unable to make out any of the letters. Do these hold ancient stories and legends? I wonder if someone would read them to me. She opened a few drawers and tinkered with a few miscellaneous mechanics that she hadn't the slightest clue how to operate. A rectangular object with a circle-shaped lens had no value to her, nor did a great feather with a pointed tip. She picked up a small, four-sided thing with little multi-colored buttons, but upon pressing one in curiosity a great screen illuminated and boomed with the voice of an announcer talking about the weather. Her heart jumped and she immediately pressed the same button to shut the damn thing off, placing a hand on her chest and tossing the object in question far away from her. "No, no no..."

After an hour or so of aimless wanderings and investigations, Jocelyn felt the emptiness in her stomach grow. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten anything. Maybe he wants me to cook for him, too? Is that what a wife does? Is that why nobody's awake yet? She bit her lip and searched through the halls to find the prince's kitchen, knowing it would give her something productive to do, and snuck in upon discovery.

"Hmmm," Jocelyn muttered to herself, tapping her chin in thought. There were labels scattered on the cupboards and drawers and all of them were confusing. Jocelyn had no knowledge of how to read even the simplest things, much less knowing the letters of the alphabet, so she resorted to her nose and eyes for identifying most of the ingredients at her disposal. She messed with some of the bigger appliances until she figured out how they functioned, pulling pans from their resting places and setting to her productive work.

Jocelyn had always been the main cook for her brothers in Dale. Every morning after her ephedra treatments with Jonathan, she would take the role of the chef and set about making breakfast from whatever rations they'd had leftover. This, however, was something different entirely. It was a food-lover's dream. The prince's kitchen had no lack for luster and was filled to the brim with whatever content Josie's little heart desired. Maybe I'll make them all a meal to thank them for bringing my family to me. It couldn't hurt. He saved my life.

I'll be living here for quite some time, after all. I suppose. If he's stupid enough to keep me.

Jocelyn began cooking fresh eggs in a great pan along with sausage and chopped potatoes, sprinkling spices where necessary and adding a pinch of her mother's secret ingredients that she could identify by smell and sight alone. She pulled a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear and continued at her work, adding toast and jam to the mix of breakfast foods until a voice was heard over the shrill of sizzling. The source of the conversation was just around the corner.

"...on the front page of the paper, Alex. The nobility is collectively going nuts, and William's pissed that you're actually gonna go through with this. You don't have to, you know. Maybe it'd be better for you to--"

Before Jocelyn could react, the door swung open. She was caught entirely off-guard and her heart leapt through the ceiling. The bodyguard's mouth fell open and the prince looked stunned, though the smells of a delicious breakfast banquet wafted through the room.

The slave instantly panicked.

"I'm so sorry!" Jocelyn exclaimed in horror, stepping backwards and nearly tripping over the edge of the counter. Her previous thoughts about making something nice for the group of Betters was immediately abandoned. "I should have asked instead of just doin' anything, I'm sorry, I'm--" Don't look at his face! Jocelyn shot her eyes to the floor and hung her head in fear.

"P-Please forgive me, Your Highness--I didn't--I didn't mean--I just--"​

[/fieldbox]

 

[Lillian Gray]

[fieldbox="Alexander Blackwood; The Last Good Man, #166b22, solid, 10"]"Have you read the paper today?" Arthur asked casually behind the young Prince. Seeing as Jocelyn was supposed to be asleep in his bedroom, they'd been forced to retreat to the guest utilities for any kind of morning routine. "There's something that might interest you, perhaps it's best you read for yourself."

"I'll read it with my coffee." Alexander replied with a drawn out yawn. He rubbed at his sleepless eyes and groaned.

Hannah had the foresight to lay out a set of clothes for Alexander, seeing as sneaking back into his room for anything to wear would have startled the timid slave girl. He pulled a thick sweater over his head, one with a deep cut neck that sat comfortably along his collar, all over a clean pressed white collared shirt. The man was dressed for the colder weather, if the need arose that he'd slip outside, but he hoped it would be otherwise unnecessary. Alexander had slipped into a tight pair of black trousers and wore no shoes, only a pair of gray dress socks to cover his feet. The mirror reflected the cool face of the Prince, anxiety and trepidation hidden in his dark blue eyes. Standing there, he appeared to be the image of grace and nobility, but inside even Arthur could tell the man was worried about the days to come. The sleepless night was reflected in deep purple marks beneath his eyes and in his unkempt head of brown hair.

Arthur stared at the man's reflection in the mirror, noting the subtle worry in his eyes. "It's not good." Alexander moved from the mirror and left the guest bathroom entirely. Arthur was swift as a shadow behind his young master, trying to inform him of the situation before he had to face his wife to be. "The whole thing was publicly broadcasted, everyone knows, and if they didn't see it, they read it this morning. Your picture is on the front page of the paper, Alex. The nobility is collectively going nuts, and William's pissed that you're actually gonna go through with this. You don't have to, you know. Maybe it'd be better for you to-"

They entered the kitchen to a foreign scent, at least for any typical morning in Alexander's life. He liked a cup of coffee and if he felt hungry, a slice of toast to go with it slathered in fresh honey. What was there was beyond what he expected, his young bride worked happily in front of the stove before she noticed the two came in. Then the moment fell apart. The wondrous smell lingered, but the calm atmosphere dissipated entirely with Jocelyn's hasty retreat.

She looked beautiful in the sunlight even when her eyes darted to the floor. Alexander was more surprised to see anyone besides Hannah using the kitchen, and she knew better than to wake up to make the man a breakfast he wouldn't eat. He'd never been a morning person, not really. He paused in thought. A pan sizzled noisily on the stove with a host of different ingredients. Eggs, sausage, even a bit of what looked like fried hash browns of some kind. The counters, otherwise pristine and polished, were covered in the remnants of unknown spices and the tell tale white remains of salt. A smear of egg was nearly dripping from the counter. He didn't realize the entire time he'd been taking a long, very deep inhale, absorbing the delicious smell of food in the air.

"You made this?" Alexander asked in surprise. "It smells really good, Lady Jocelyn. No one has made breakfast in this kitchen for years, I'm glad it's getting some use."

Then he smiled. The corners of his lips turned up ever so slightly in a grin only made for her. Whether or not she had cooked purposefully for him, or if she was hungry, she'd been comfortable enough to rummage through the kitchens in search of a meal.

He stepped towards her, a single hand outstretched in a gesture of good faith. Alexander wouldn't touch her. He knew what would happen if he tried, she'd only push herself further away from his touch. "Would it be alright if I joined you? I'm afraid all of this has made me rather hungry." Alexander chuckled.

"Alex...about the other matter..." Arthur whispered not an inch from Alexander's ear, his breath tickled against his skin. The Prince waved him away, momentarily forgetting about what the other noble's thought. Their opinions didn't matter when it came to Alexander's public image. It had already been smeared, decimated by his brother's twisted words blended into the biased media. Those who knew the royal born understood he was a good man, and those who didn't know, Alexander didn't care to meet.

"Later, Arthur." Alexander murmured. He turned his attention back to Jocelyn. Would she ever dare to look him in the eyes so willingly? "My Lady? You don't have to hide your face from me. I'm not that frightening, am I?"[/fieldbox]

 

[moffnat]

[fieldbox=Jocelyn McDowell; The Suffering Slave, seagreen, solid, 0, georgia]Jocelyn bit her chapped lower lip, not oblivious in the slightest to the urgency in the darker man's tone. The event at the prince's birthday had been broadcasted? All the Betters in Farlienne had seen? Let them see, declared the flame in her lion's heart rather proudly. Let them see that the Crown Prince of Farlienne was forced to choose a slave girl over someone of a higher class. Let them hear what I said to the king. But what effect would that have on the people of the world, especially her own? Had they heard the words she'd spoken to King William? Would that reflect badly upon herself and this walking contradiction of a royal before her eyes?

Somehow, Jocelyn came to the conclusion that it all hardly mattered. The prince seemed undisturbed by the news, and if he wasn't than neither should she.

"You don't have to hide your face from me," came his voice, deep and nearly soothing as it rumbled to her ears. He offered a hand to her. "I'm not that frightening, am I?"

"N-No, your highness," Jocelyn stuttered in reply. "N-Not frightening, I just...I was raised not to look at royalty in the eye, not ever. The punishment was a whippin' in the streets from one end a'town to the other, and sometimes that took hours."

"No one's going to whip you here," the other man sighed, folding his arms across his great broad chest. It was clear that he'd been defeated in his effort to speak more seriously with Alexander. "Especially not your prince. He's your...ugh. Your betrothed, I guess."

She bit her lip. "I apologize if I've offended you, ser."

"You did nothing of the sort, but I'll leave you two to eat in peace and get further acquainted. Alex, my lady," the guard spoke as he took his departure, closing the kitchen door upon his leave. Royal and slave were left alone with nothing but the silence, save for the sizzles of a cooking breakfast.

I can't avoid his eyes forever. Jocelyn didn't want to face that fact, but she knew it to be true. Drinking in the sight of him would make everything real and more irreversible than it already was, and she'd finally have a concrete face to put to the name of her intended. But by avoiding him altogether she would only damage what little possibility they had to build anything in the disaster of a situation they'd been given. Only in facin' my fears can I pass them. Wasn't that what mama told me?

With great hesitation, Jocelyn lifted her eyes.

Prince Alexander had the strongest jawline she'd ever seen and fierce cheekbones to match, dark eyes of a distant ocean rippling gentle waves straight through to his heart. Not a god, nor a monster. Just a man. A short beard accompanied his pale skin and a mop of chocolate-colored curls toppled upon his royal head. Soft lips were turned upward in a little smile. Hadn't I doubted the existence of such a thing only moments ago...?

"Not frightening at all," Jocelyn decided aloud, letting her shoulders fall as part of her steel guard was lowered. Admittedly, she'd become distracted as the man before her once again tossed all of her expectations upside-down. "Uhm. I, oh." She forced her gaze away and took a porcelain plate from the counter, placing it in his extended hand. "There. Go, uhm. Sit. I mean, if it please your highness, I wouldn't mind the company. I've never eaten alone in my life."

Jocelyn turned away from him then, not wanting to forget about the sole purpose for which she'd found the kitchen in the first place. She grabbed a few bowls and scooped the eggs and potatoes into two separate ones with great spoons, inwardly commenting on how these were the nicest dishes she'd ever laid eyes on. Once the table was somewhat set and Jocelyn in her seat across from the prince, she raised his eyes to meet his once more.

"It's...nothin' special," she admitted, looking out to the meal she'd placed before royalty. "But it reminded me of home."[/fieldbox]

 

[Lillian Gray]

[fieldbox="Alexander Blackwood; The Last Good Man, #166b22, solid, 10"]Alexander sat across the small table from his soon to be wife, and was trying hard to think of how to cheer her up after her mention of home. He smothered a crumb with his finger, rubbing the spot against the table with a keen focus. A simple meal was all it took to bring about a look of sadness on her face, eggs and sausage seared perfectly in an unfamiliar place. He had to commend her on her efforts though, despite the sure pain she was in being out of sight from her family during the last days of Peace Week.

"I remember, when you awoke in my quarters last night." Alexander recalled the small bits of information she'd offered in between her shock. "You said you were a miner in Dale, but you were born in Culceth. Is that right?"

He shifted in his seat and dabbled between the eggs and potatoes, making a small meal for himself on his plate and forgoing his usual cup of coffee. A subtle denial to her cooking might have upset her, Alexander worried, as he'd noticed so far she was prone to harsh reactions. Ever since she was young, the girl born to the slave caste was taught certain morals and principles. That being never to look a noble in the eye, and especially not the royal family, nor were they allowed to touch one, or speak to them without being addressed beforehand. Punishment varied from city to city, but always involved cruel consequences. In the most extreme cases, the consequence of breaking these select rules ended in death. It wasn't just those three though, there was an endless amount of rules which each slave was made to follow. Even Alexander couldn't remember them all, the more inconsequential they grew.

The Prince tried hard not to think about it, knowing it would do him no good in the end. He'd tried his whole life to ignore the immoral deeds in the castes below his own. As he grew though, there was no avoiding it. He was met each day with a new challenge, a new face to think about, the lashings on their backs and the sweat on their brows. Ignoring the slave caste would do him nothing but earn a place next to his brother as a villain. Here at his table was the perfect opportunity to learn of the true happenings to the lowest of castes, it was no time to be shy.

"I have to say though, I'm jealous of you." Alexander admitted, and he was honest in his reply. "How could it be you've never gone a day in your life without company during your meals?"

William would never join his brother for a meal, not ever. Even his parents, as much as they adored their second born, had little time to schedule a meal with him. It didn't sadden him to think they could not eat together, because he understood it to be common. He lowered his fork to take a stab at a small patch of eggs before landing the tines into a square of pork. Juices spilled out from the fresh pores and dribbled onto the plate. Alexander brought the food to his mouth, inhaling the gentle scent of the unfamiliar cooking. It was savory and full, he could tell it would be good before his lips even wrapped around the fork, before his tongue was graced with the carefully crafted breakfast Jocelyn had made.

"Ah, I can see why." Alexander admitted with his cheek stuffed with eggs. "This is excellent."

Maybe I could make breakfast a more frequent meal, especially if it tasted like this every time.

"You look good today. I'm glad." Alexander commented. Both the healthy glow of her skin and the clothes she were were complimenting to her small frame. When he'd seen her on the platform, she'd been a downright mess of mud and tears, along with the rest of the women there. Now that she'd had time to recuperate, Alexander could find there was a faint mark of blush beneath her skin. It was good to see her so whole. "Do you feel well today? Your lungs, your breathing is alright?"[/fieldbox]

 

[moffnat]

[fieldbox=Jocelyn McDowell; The Suffering Slave, seagreen, solid, 0, georgia]Jocelyn tried her absolute best to resist a smile as the crowned prince of Farlienn, the second most powerful man in the realm, spoke with his mouth full at the table. Mama would've tapped 'is mouth if he were her son, she thought fondly. She never tolerated that stuff. The slave allowed herself a minuscule sip of water and wiped her mouth with a napkin as politely as she possibly could, setting it back upon the table with gentle care. It felt as if each little thing she did was a recurrent test to prove her worthiness, but deep down she knew that was utter folly. He carried me, smothered in mud up countless floors to his tower. I'm sure he doesn't worry about that sort of thing. Still, perhaps it would be nice to prove she could at least act polite, like princesses were supposed to. That was her eventual fate, was it not?

"My lungs?" Jocelyn inquired, nearly forgetting he'd known about her condition entirely. "Oh. Uhm, yes. They're alright, your highness. That doctor gave me some medicine, your highness, he told me to expect a visit tonight so he can show me how to use it. I, uhm. I'm terribly sorry if that was an inconvenience, your highness. My lord."

Jocelyn went back to eating her food until the prince's inquiry about her origins sparked another set of curiosity. She couldn't possibly think of a reason why he would consider any of that information relevant from this point on, but Jocelyn certainly wouldn't deny him the truth. She swallowed the lump of potatoes and cleared her throat before speaking again.

"Culceth, mhm. That's where my mama and--err, my mother and father. That's where they live. I lived there until I was twelve like all other slave children, your highness, and I had my Choosing. I picked "mining district" from the tiles, or so they all told me. Then I was sent to Dale to work as a miner. Three of my brothers were also Chosen there, so I wasn't alone. They were my miracles."

The girl looked down to her food and poked it around a bit, the sadness flooding back into her and her voice spoke without being beckoned. "The oldest, Jonathan. I never met him until I was five, your highness, and I had the memory to put a face to the name. He's almost twice my age so I'd never grown up with him, Jacob or Jorge neither, not even Jordan. Ah--but that's probably not of interest to you, my prince. I'm sorry." She drew in a deep breath and released. "I miss them, but...I guess that's really selfish to say."

Open your mouth, Jocelyn. He's proven that he won't hurt you.

"I, uhm. Your highness, I don't know what this will mean to you because I'm a slave n' all, but I thought I'd share..." She cleared her throat and dared to lift her sky blue gaze from the table, speaking to him more forwardly though every fiber of her being told her it was wrong to do so. "Queen Esmeralda was at my Choosing, your highness. Your mother, right? When I picked Dale from the tiles my mama panicked, begging the Overseers to let me redraw because the mines would kill me. The man hit her, my mama. And then the queen told him to stop." Jocelyn adjusted in her seat in hopes it would make her story easier to tell. "She kneeled down to my level and put her hand on my cheek, and told me the name of that plant that helps me breathe. Ephedra. She saved my life. She said that I'd do a great job and that God and Goddess would watch over me. I've never seen a group of people so shocked before in my whole life..." She looked up into his petrified gaze. "Until you saved me from the king. You really are her son, kind and sweet. And you have her eyes, too. I'm sorry for your loss. Mine is nothin' compared to yours."[/fieldbox]

 

[Lillian Gray]

[fieldbox="Alexander Blackwood; The Last Good Man, #166b22, solid, 10"]Alexander attempted to do the mental math, she must have been young still, to have only met her oldest brother so many times. Then again, she had to be older because she'd grown past the Choosing. Alexander was almost comforted to know she had to have been at least an appropriate age to be wed, but there was no guarantee. Just how old was she? Her bony structure made him assume she was much younger, she was even a whole head shorter than himself. The Prince stared at her intently as she spoke about her upbringing.

A week had passed, a little more, since the funeral of the King and Queen. Hearing his mother's name again from such an unexpected source threw the Prince entirely off guard. His mother hardly attended many events in regards to the slave caste, especially not Choosings. His cool demeanor faded, the light hint of anguish settled in his stark features. It wasn't to say the man didn't miss his parents dearly, they'd parted too soon. Hearing of his mother's good deeds brought no surprise to the man's ears, she was a good woman, and a kind mother. His longing to see her only increased upon hearing of her sweet actions years ago.

He wiped a hand over his face and sighed, his other tapped a fork against the table. Fingers wrapped through his brown curls as he reminisced of better days. Boyhood memories of a lean woman in floral silks, the hint of vanilla on her skin, and eyes the color of the sea.

"Thank you." Alexander murmured. He set his fork down silently on the table, he had to compose himself and his thoughts. "Ephedra though, of all the things." Alexander smiled as he recalled a faint memory from his childhood. "She used to use it when we were ill, my brother and I. My mother would light a flame and sit with us, turning the stuff over in the fire until our lungs were settled, mucus and disease gone. To think, what a coincidence that she would meet you. I'm glad that she had a chance to help you, Jocelyn, I am."

The subject was still hard to approach, and Alexander had to step away lest he made the girl feel uncomfortable. Another topic for another time, when Alexander was better equipped to speak openly about his deceased family. He'd spent many nights since his single day of mourning trying to rationalize that they were really gone. It only seemed as if they'd gone to another city, that they would be back on the morrow with smiles on their faces. An invitation to dinner was only a few days away. Yet, he knew they were gone. His heart still longed for them to return and end William's schemes, as they always had done.

"You don't have to call me by any title you know." Alexander informed Jocelyn. "My Lord, Highness, simply Alexander will do. I know it must be a hard habit to break, an impossible one, but you are my equal now in the eyes of society."

It was a bit hypocritical of Alexander to instruct the girl to drop a title for him, as he resorted to calling her a Lady most of the time. He considered it fair, to call her something more formal when she was uncomfortable calling him by his own name. She'd have to get used to it eventually anyways.

"I do have one question for you, if you don't mind my asking." Alexander paused, his fingers untangled from his hair and dropped to the table, he rapped against the surface once before his lips parted in question. "How old are you exactly?"[/fieldbox]

 

[moffnat]

[fieldbox=Jocelyn McDowell; The Suffering Slave, seagreen, solid, 0, georgia]The prince's anguish was so familiar, so heartbreaking and so incredibly human. It nearly made Jocelyn reach forward to comfort her grief-stricken husband-to-be, but perhaps he wouldn't appreciate such a gesture so soon. Perhaps he never would. She kept her hands to herself despite the deep frown settled on her gentle features, still feeling the frigid presence of the walls between them. Clearly he no longer wished to talk about his mother and father, most likely not with a slave such as her. She could understand such hesitation. Jocelyn folded her hands in her lap and cast her eyes away.

"I'm sixteen, your high--I mean." She couldn't seem to call him by his real name. It felt much too strange. I'd rather stick to titles. "Sixteen. My birthday is in four months, your highness."

The prince seemed shocked by that declaration, though he offered no comment against it. Jocelyn felt embarrassed suddenly at how exposed that information seemed to leave her, and went back to the chore of eating without another word. Before the hour was finished the prince's bodyguard had summoned him forth on urgent business, one that Jocelyn didn't assume herself to be a part of, and she let him go with a simple nod.

I don't think I can do this. How could I be expected to? Goddess, I need strength. Please. She bit her lip and glanced out the nearby window, watching clouds pleasantly pass and airships fly by to some unknown destination, and not for the last time she felt like a stranger in a foreign and hostile world. I don't belong in a place where I have to eat my meals alone. I'd rather be in Dale than here. At least the mines are familiar, and I'll know my cause of death. Suffocating would be mercy compared to what the king is capable of.

A tear trailed down her cheek. She wiped it away in haste and set about the task of cleaning her wasteful mess, knowing that distraction was the key to feeling human again.

---

JANUS 12, YEAR 2418 CE​

The week ticked by at a slower rate than Jocelyn would have hoped for, but still much too halted for her liking. The upcoming inter-caste wedding had all the media and broadcasting agents abuzz with fresh nitpickings on what the prince would wear, what she would wear, if any slaves would be invited and the legal situation surrounding the marriage itself. Debates were ignited all throughout the country at how "moral" this decision was and how it would impact Farlienne as a whole. The prince himself had spoken with the journalists and photographers about how his every intention in the wake of his parents' deaths was to marry the girl he'd promised to, though Jocelyn couldn't help but wonder if his words were genuine. She felt they were, somehow. Alexander had stopped at no expense to ensure she'd been comfortable the past seven days, even if his back should suffer without the comfort of a bed and his public image without affection. He'd insisted that they eat both breakfast and dinner in each other's company so that they might become better acquainted, and while she certainly felt more comfortable around him there was still much work to be done. Jocelyn had yet to call the prince by his name and her eyes would avert from his if locked in a gaze for too long, but the conversation was pleasant and the aura was friendly.

She couldn't help but wonder, even in the smallest bit, if Prince Alexander was beginning to care about her.

"Almost done!" Hannah chirped, pulling Jocelyn's face closer to her. "Hold still or the tiara won't look right when I put it in."

"It's just a ball, miss," the slave replied with a little frown. "I'm not a princess yet. I don't deserve a crown."

"Nonsense. Even an engagement ball represents what you're gonna become! Besides, Alex thinks you're a princess."

"No he doesn't." Jocelyn blushed.

"Does too! Go and ask him."

"No!" She couldn't help but smile despite herself. "No. I, uhm. No. Let's just get this over with. The sooner we leave, the sooner the ball is over. Right?"

"Right-o!"

Jocelyn didn't feel like royalty, but she certainly looked the part. Dressed in a laced ball gown of an indigo hue, her hair had been curled back in a graceful braid and Hannah gave the final adjustments to a little tiara clipped at the front of her head. The pale face of a slave had been painted and disguised into something more elegant than Jocelyn had ever seen, dark tones surrounding the bright blue of her irises. Her lashes were smothered in black and lengthened for effect. She blinked at herself in the mirror as the tiny crown had been placed to perfection, and pink lips fell open in sheer shock as the sight of herself made her heart seize.

"...that's me?"

"That's you, my lady! You're soooo beautiful! Alex is gonna fall all over himself, I just know it."

"No he won't." She blushed once more.

"Aww! He totally will, especially if you keep blushing like that! I heard him talking about how much he enjoyed--"

"Okay, okay!" Jocelyn giggled, and to her surprise it was entirely genuine even in the presence of anxiety. "I get the point, miss. Thank you so much for your help. I'm terrified, but...I think I feel better knowin' you'll be there."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." Hannah squeezed the slave girl's hands before guiding her out to the main foyer, a vision for an engagement ball thrown in her most unusual honor.

"Oh, Alex~!" the maid giggled with a wave. "Your princess is ready!"[/fieldbox]

 

[Lillian Gray]

[fieldbox="Alexander Blackwood; The Last Good Man, #166b22, solid, 10"]Since the sun had broken across the thin line of the horizon just outside the window near the couch Alexander occupied, he'd been awake. The early morning fragments of light glittered across the serene white surface of the earth, the fresh snowfall was still untouched by the public crowd. Closer and closer, the day came he'd make his first public appearance with Jocelyn at his side, and he dreaded the event with every fiber of his being. His brother had already shamed him, made him look the fool in all the papers and other media outlets, and what had the Prince done? Not a thing. He had yet to address the situation properly, and tonight would be the moment every nobleman waited for. His side of the story.

Alexander sighed with his arm draped over his eyes.

It's going to be a long day.

Cameron had come over to see to it that Alexander was properly dressed, that way Arthur could check up on security at his own leisure. William wasn't so kind as to inform Alexander's only guard of the small details of the party. Arthur had taken it upon himself to make sure there were routes to escape if need be, and a place to hide if the crowds became to rowdy. It all seemed unnecessary, but it had saved Alexander on more than one occasion from the pushy press, so he never denied his guard to take the chance to keep everyone the slightest bit safer.

"How regal of you." The Lord held a polished crown. There were four pointed tips with a knotted design running through the silver. It was indeed regal, the crown of a Prince, only worn for the more serious of occasions. Alexander snatched it away from Cameron with a sly smile on his face. Cameron groaned. "I was only looking, no need to be grabbing it away."

"Knowing you, I wouldn't see it again until you'd had a case of alcohol to yourself." Alexander's face lit up with a knowing expression. Cameron tried to object, but the Prince beat him to it. "Don't try to lie, I know you Cameron. You'd much rather wear the damn thing for the game of it, to see how long before anyone notices the crown Prince of Archaedon has suddenly lost his silver crown."

Alexander turned to face the silver lined mirror. His hair was slicked back to avoid looking like a sloppy mess, what with his otherwise thick brown curls. He set the crown neatly on his head and touched at the edge of his hair to make sure it set perfectly in place. Cameron merely watched from behind, observing his friend's precise motions with an otherwise uninterested expression. Just when Alexander thought he was done, Cameron pulled the royal close and adjusted his vest, then he pulled at the thin ascot around the Prince's throat. The Lord's fingers worked quickly on the messy tie Alexander had put in place, his eyes trained down to the other man's chest.

"You're still sure you want to go through with this?" Cameron asked casually, as if asking about the weather. He continued to adjust the ascot despite both men well aware that it was just fine as is.

"Of course." Alexander replied. "It's been arranged, and I have no intention of leaving her in the mines again. She's a sweet girl, I've grown fond of her as of late."

"That's fair." Cameron's lips pulled tight while he contemplated what his own actions might have been. "Just keep her safe, I'll do the same. We don't want William near our sweet flower, do we?" The Lord tapped Alexander's chest, smiled, and took a step back.

"Are you ready?" Alexander asked. The Lord nodded back, and the two men exited the bathroom together in their evening attire.

Cameron sped ahead without another look back. Anna waited for him a few floors down just outside the classic ballroom the engagement party was to be held, and as her husband they were assumed to always arrive as a pair. He never caught a glimpse of Jocelyn in his haste, her gorgeous blue gown and painted face, so unfitting of a woman of her caste. Slaves wouldn't have enough gold to afford a single brush to apply even the smallest amount of blush on their faces, and there was Jocelyn, a painted Goddess before the eyes of nobles and the royal family. Vanity wasn't something slaves could dream of affording.

Alexander was working on his pressed white sleeves as he entered the foyer. "Hannah, is Jocelyn ready? I would hate to rush her but-" His eyes glanced up.

There she was.

She was like an image of Winter turning to Spring, rich blue flowers blossomed out of her pale skin, not so unlike the snow covered ground just outside their windows. Her stare was cold to those who did not know the girl personally, those who didn't realize who she was. Jocelyn was a slave turned royal, and the cool glare was just as accusatory as one would assume. Her inbred hatred for the castes above her was an inherited trait passed down by the pain from their elders. The light in her eyes never faded, the fire in her heart was as fierce as any Lion, but her kindness could melt the iciest of hearts. Alexander had been just as surprised to see her clean for the first time, only now she was dressed up to play the part of a noble for the evening. He couldn't help but gawk at how beautiful she was. It was refreshing to behold her now that she'd blossomed some.

"What did I say, hm?" Hannah nudged Jocelyn's side playfully over a conversation unknown to Alexander. He stared back and forth between the two for some kind of answer, but was met with silent lips.

"I- Jocelyn-" Alexander nearly bit his own tongue. Hannah giggled, which only made his face grow red with embarrassment. She knew the reason her master was so stunned, it was because of the girl standing next to her in the flowing ball gown.

"He's falling already, look at him." Hannah whispered. Alexander was too dazed to hear.

"You look beautiful, my Lady." Alexander complimented, "A true diamond in the rough, that's not to say you never shined before."

The Prince held out his hand. Although their conversations had become sociable enough, the blatant unease faded from her tone, contact was still an issue to be solved. She might have taken his hand in public to avoid the suspicions the press would hold, but even in the privacy of their home it was still difficult to say what she wanted. Alexander kept his hand extended. They had a crowd to greet, and an evening of hell to walk through.

It would be best we walked through hand and hand, I'll not leave you in the fire alone.[/fieldbox]

 

[moffnat]

[fieldbox=Jocelyn McDowell; The Suffering Slave, seagreen, solid, 0, georgia]The prince's reaction upon drinking in the sight of her was as heartwarming as Hannah had promised, and more. Jocelyn's expression brightened without explanation at his amiable compliments, the pit of her stomach fluttering about like a helpless butterfly unable to escape his kindness. How could a man she barely knew make fear cower horridly in the shadow of a handsome smile? How could he reanimate something even Jocelyn believed to be long dead and unobtainable?

How was Alexander Blackwood possible?

"T-Thank you," Jocelyn chuckled in response to his stuttered words of affection, and his blush was matched by her own. Their eyes met for a moment too long and she found herself reluctant to pull the gaze away. I can't be the shy slave tonight, she knew, much to her own inner turmoil. This is how Farlienne will see me, how any slave watching this will see me, the peasants and the commoners too. The lower castes will meet Jocelyn McDowell in a few agonizing moments and she is a lion, not a sheep. Lions do not fear. It's just like my family said.

The prince extended his hand to her. With admitted hesitation, she offered him the same courteous gesture and the friction was electric as their hands slid together and embraced.

He's so warm, she thought with a little sigh of relief, walking at the side of the prince as they made their way down the hall. His hands are soft and gentle. Maybe I'll let that ground me tonight. Great golden doors swung open before them and prince and slave entered through to the elaborate elevator. "I'll meet you down there in about fifteen minutes!" Hannah cheered and waved. The great steel doors groaned to a close, and the sight of the beaming blonde was swallowed by the harsh vision of metal. The cart began a painfully slow descent. Jocelyn's hand still clung to his.

Silence floated heavy between them for a few moments until Jocelyn's hand squeezed around Alexander's, desperate to keep herself on an even field during the onslaught they were headed towards. Breathe. Just breathe. She thought of practicing their dance only days before and prayed she wouldn't step on his toes. She thought of the rehearsal they'd played out of being bombarded by the press to prepare her for situation, of all the helpful tips Alexander and Hannah and Arthur had given her. She'd had endless amounts assistance and equipment to deal with what was to come. Even still, the anxiety scratched at her throat like a savage animal threatening to spill blood and she was naked with disarray. The elevator lights twinkled further and further downward on the panel to signify their descent to the lower floors, and her eyes were fixed upon it in horror.

Help me be strong for him. Someone. Anyone. Help me be strong for those who can't be.

Jocelyn let go of the prince's grip to slide her arm firmly around his, her free hand tight on his upper arm, squeezing gently at his muscles through the fabric. Her entire frame seemed to tremble in knowing she was to be thrown to the mercy of vultures.

"Don't leave my side," she choked out, taking deep and slow breaths in attempt to regain the calm before the storm.

"Please, your highness. If ever I ask you for anythin', anything, let this be the one you acknowledge. Please, please..."

Don't leave me alone in this place.

Suddenly, that was all she feared.[/fieldbox]

 

[Lillian Gray]

[fieldbox="Alexander Blackwood; The Last Good Man, #166b22, solid, 10"]As if a barrier had been lowered, Alexander felt completely relieved to feel her calloused hands in his own smooth palm. She'd worked so hard all her life, only for it to amount in an arranged marriage to the royal Prince. Her walls were higher than most. Jocelyn could have rejected him, could have run her own way and faced a certain death, but despite that she had attempted to make peace with her situation. Alexander still had to remember that it was do or die for her, and he appreciated her friendly personality considering the whole affair. It had taken them weeks to get to the point of contact, but she had finally allowed him the simple touch. Hand in hand they joined as one pair, the arranged couple they were supposed to be was at least imaginable now.

They migrated into the elevator, and when the doors shut, Alexander could almost say Jocelyn's anxiety was tangible. Her breathing became labored, and he feared the worst. Almost instinctively he began to make his breathing louder, slower, so she could imitate his calm persona. It was the only audible noise in the enclosed space save the slow clank of cogs which belonged to the inner workings of the elevator.

Alexander turned, and gently lifted her arm off of his. He took her slight hands in his own and lowered his head so they were closer to being eye level. Two very different shades of blue, different seas, different lives, stared at one another with the intention of calming the waters.

"Jocelyn, listen to my voice." He soothed her the best he could, keeping a firm grip on her hands all the while. Alexander stopped so he could breathe, and so she could listen, stop, and slow herself. "I will not leave your side, not for a minute. I know it will be hard, but you need to be strong, both of us do."

Introducing a slave to the upper caste society wouldn't be a walk in the park. Most of the upper caste citizens hadn't laid eyes on a working class slave in their life. There was a near guarantee for some kind of uproar. The haunting whisper of cruel words would never cease, and Jocelyn would be the subject on everyone's mind no matter how small she made herself. Alexander wanted to promise her there would be just as many men kind enough as himself, but it would have been an outright lie. It would be hard.

Jocelyn would need to don all the armor she could and prepare for a subtle and wordless war. Her opponents wore masks of iron and gold, where she had rags and dirt to her name. The sides were unbalanced, the allies and opponents unclear. Nevertheless, she'd still have to enter the fray.

"I promised your family I would keep you safe, and I intend to keep that promise." Alexander spoke with a deliberate slow pace, watching to see if her breathing had calmed any. If his words made any impact on her nightmarish image of the nobles in waiting. "They will say things, horrible things, about you and I. Do not listen."

The Prince gripped her hands once in reassurance, and made sure his eyes were on hers when he spoke next.

"You are strong, and you are beautiful. And I'm not saying that because we put you in a dress to play with fire for a night, no. The only wrong done is that you were born into a world where we decide to segregate our society so strongly. They cannot hurt you unless you let them, not with me by your side. They wouldn't dare." Alexander lifted a hand to brush a stray strand of curls around her ear without ever touching her skin. It was all he could to do be sure she knew her place, her rightful place above the sea of nobles who would so greedily bask in their riches, all because they were born to the right caste. Her heart was more pure and honest than the lot of them.

"I'll stay right here." Alexander smiled kindly with his eyes, his pearly white teeth glistened shortly thereafter. "I promise."

The elevator came to a startling stop, and the heavy metal doors opened of their own accord. The hall before them was empty, save a handful of William's guard going about their business. Arthur would no doubt already be inside, ready to carve a path for Alexander and Jocelyn once they made their entrance. The event as all for them, and as such, they'd have a grand appearance. Alexander could ground Jocelyn, he knew he would be able to help her hold her head high, if only her feet would keep her gliding for as long as possible.

Alexander pulled her arm back into its previous hold and guided them both towards a large set of gilded double doors. It was one of the oldest, more elegantly styled rooms in the whole of the Archaedon tower. As such, every knob, every facet and screw shined a magnificent golden color. Even Alexander was overwhelmed by the richness of it all, and there was no doubt in his mind that Jocelyn was ten times more nervous about entering.

He turned to her, and smiled again. No more waiting. They were at Hell's door now.[/fieldbox]

 

[moffnat]

[fieldbox=Jocelyn McDowell; The Suffering Slave, seagreen, solid, 0, georgia]Listen to my voice, he told her, and Jocelyn had done exactly that. His eyes captivated her in the gentlest hold and pink lips curled into a little smile as he brushed her hair behind her ear. The prince squeezed soft hands and wrapped her in the security of his impossible words, and though she knew phrases and promises were fickle little things Jocelyn held nothing but trust in her husband-to-be. Their souls seemed to touch, crossing planes of lethal separation to come to a loving understanding. Her chest pounded and she swore his did too, feeling the beat of his heart as he brought their hands to his chest. Jocelyn stayed fixed on him a moment as he was on her, locked in the ever-addicting brush of spirits until his muscles laxed and her breath was calm. Alexander returned their arms to the previous position, for which she grateful that they could be held so close, and stepped toward the entrance to the ballroom.

He smiled and so did she, her stomach flipping, heart begging to know if the prince felt the way he made her feel. Strong, confident. Caring. Devoted?

The doors swung open, and Jocelyn was armored to face the chaos.

Cameras flashed and media swarmed like insects upon the unlikely couple. Questions mixed together into a barely discernible buzz of intrigue and insult, but Jocelyn remained strong through it all, letting her prince become her anchor. She kept her eyes forward and focused until the tunnel of animals was successfully traversed through and the duo stood at the center of the ballroom, lights focused purely on them, the worst seemingly put to rest.

She was greeted with the sweetest reward.

Hundreds of nobles remained in their seats at various tables throughout the luxurious ballroom, but some stood on their feet in cheerful applause. "Princess Jocelyn!" exclaimed someone in the crowd. "End slavery!" called another, "long live Prince Alexander! For Princess Jocelyn and the slaves!"

It struck her heart like a bullet. They love him, she thought. They support him. His cause is genuine, I knew it was. My prayers were heard. Why did I ever doubt? To see it before her eyes made the impossible become real, so shockingly prevalent that it nearly knocked her off her heels. I never knew. So many have been fighting for us, for how long...? At least a hundred of the nobles present had praised their entrance and called their support to end the system of the caste, and Alexander waved to them all.

I've been avoidin' him for a crime he isn't guilty of. By judgin' him, I'm no better than the king or any Better who hurt someone. No better at all. Jocelyn's heart felt elated and crushed in the same instant, her hold tightening on the man at her side. She knew she would have to repay all Alexander had done for her, but how? What could she possibly do that he would appreciate as much as she had appreciated his service?

"Ladies and gentlemen!" came the interrupting call of that agonizingly familiar voice. The crowd bowed low to their king and queen as they entered at last, and Jocelyn's back straightened. "Ladies and gentlemen, dukes and duchesses, lords and ladies, counts and countesses...and a slave," he added as an afterthought. "Welcome to my brother's much-anticipated engagement ball. Let us all take a moment and applaud his contribution to the Blackwood family, as small as it may be."

I've gone from a cow to a contribution. I suppose that's progress. The applause continued and died shortly thereafter, and the reigning monarch dismissed his wife to sit in the smaller throne while he continued on. Butlers began passing out small glasses of champagne on a silver platter to the various people littered throughout the room.

"I never thought I'd live to see the day when a royal would willingly marry a Lesser. Of all the people, none are as shocked as I. It's true that my little brother has always found treasure where others see trash, but that is not the case tonight. She certainly looks the part of a treasure, no?" King William gripped Jocelyn's chin with a force she was entirely uncomfortable with, and despite how many looked on, she cringed her face away. Another defiance. She was unashamed of the behavior, even when his dark eyes ran her through like spears. "Well. Not all treasure is compliant. My brother will have a difficult wedding night, I suppose."

The crowd laughed. I've had about enough of this. Jocelyn's jaw tightened, the urge to protect Alexander from his brother's harm growing wider by the second.

"Ah, well. Enough of that. Let us all say a toast to the prince's well-being, gods know he will need it." A butler handed a glass of champagne to Alexander and William snatched the other two, holding Jocelyn's away from her even after she reached for it. "Now, now. Not so eagerly. Are you quite old enough to drink, my dear? I knew my brother liked them young, but perhaps I had best keep this to my--"

"Of course I'm old enough," Jocelyn stated indignantly. "I'm also old enough to know when I'm being mocked. I would appreciate it if you stopped this, Your Grace, this is as much my engagement ball as it is the prince's."

Silence, such death-defying quiet. Nobody moved a single inch. Jocelyn was surprisingly the only one who refused to be frightened. She took her drink from the king and moved her eyes forward toward the crowd again, keeping Alexander's words in her mind, deep breaths. William gave a sudden laugh and kissed her cheek, more to embarrass her than anything, and said in a deep tone, "you will be the most delightful sister to have. I shall enjoy every moment of it. To Alexander and his bride," came the end to the terrible toast. He drank the champagne in a quick go before storming off center-stage, leaving Jocelyn frowning in the wake of his anger.

I'm going to pay for that, aren't I?[/fieldbox]

 

[Lillian Gray]

[fieldbox="Alexander Blackwood; The Last Good Man, #166b22, solid, 10"]William drew out his attack. His tongue, sharp as any steel, cut deep into Jocelyn before she could even prepare to take the blow. They were barely ten steps inside the room before his voice had echoed across the hall and into the ears of the waiting crowd. Alexander stood tall, providing her all the strength he could. He'd told her to be strong, but would her courage stand with her in the face of the King?

William, come now, let's play nice. Alexander glared at his brother as he dragged out a rather obtrusive speech. The King didn't so much as look his way, he only had eyes for the girl in the blue gown, as did every other pair of spectacles in the room. She was dazzling in her blue blossom dress, not at all the image of a slave freshly dragged from the mines of Dale. Judging by the surprise from some of William's loyal friends, they'd expected to see something less human. Their gaze turned wary, the slave girl cast a slight shadow of doubt onto the world William had crafted outside the walls of Archaedon.

As they toasted, Alexander couldn't help but smirk against the glass of his champagne. Who was he kidding? Jocelyn could have come into the room bare as a newborn babe, and she'd still be able to make the King a fool. Even if she couldn't see it, even if William couldn't either, his image had been damaged by the words of a slave. She was just as human as the next man.

Alexander guided Jocelyn off the stage, making a slow process of their walk so she didn't take a tumble down the steps instead. During their dance lessons, the higher the heel, the worse Jocelyn was at keeping straight, somewhat akin to a calf attempting to walk for the first time. With the heavy blue fabric draped over her legs, she couldn't take the time to see if her foot was ever in the proper place. As they stood safely on the marbled ground, Alexander leaned down to whisper in the girl's ear.

"Well spoken." He complimented.

The event continued without much reason for concern. Arthur was always in and out of sight, but no one ever came close enough to cause a problem for the Prince and his new fiancee. Most people were too conflicted to approach Jocelyn without first consulting Arthur. The guard never so much as batted an eye, he was used to dealing with people on Alexander's behalf. As the night progressed, he turned from less of a guard and more into a secretary for the engaged couple.

"It's so good to meet you, I'm honored, Princess." Some would say.
"You're very lucky to be standing there." Others would say, the negative connotation evident even through their forced smile.

Alexander was able to wave away the last couple with a cordial nod of his head, and they took the hint graciously. The Prince replaced his empty glass of champagne with a new one, sipping lightly before the fresh glass lost its appeal. Jocelyn hadn't so much as lifted a finger from his arm, her skin was attached to the fabric of his coat. He didn't mind her touch, never had, in fact he'd grown fond of her being so near and sociable over the course of the evening. Sometimes she would smile, and although there was a high probability it was false, to see her appear joyous was better than seeing her cry.

"How are you holding up?" He asked her. "Had enough champagne, or is it past your bedtime?" Alexander was only joking of course, and he played off his tease with a casual brush of his hand against her arm. "Truly though, are you hungry at all? I would be more than happy to find us something more suitable than biscuits and champagne if need be."[/fieldbox]

 

[moffnat]

[fieldbox=Jocelyn McDowell; The Suffering Slave, seagreen, solid, 0, georgia]"I'm alright," Jocelyn said with a little beam as the prince spoke words of concern to her. "It's much...louder than I thought it would be. Much busier. I didn't think there would be nearly so many people who approved, either. I guess it's shaken off any fear I had, thanks to you as well." The chuckle she offered was genuine, as was the smile that came with it. She knew there was nothing to fear from this man anymore and her eyes shamelessly met his. "I don't think I could have done anything like this without your help. Thank you, your highness. As for the food, I'm not all that hungry..."

I don't want to move from your side. The words were unspoken, but she was sure he understood them nonetheless.

After a mixed array of pleased and disgusted comments from those who dared approach their little table, Jocelyn felt the exhaustion begin to take over from the length and velocity of the day's events. Alexander must have noticed this, for he declared that he and his bride were to retire for the night and went about saying several goodbyes. "I'll meet you by the elevator, your highness," Jocelyn told him, her hand squeezing his. They'd hardly been apart. "I need to use the restroom. Or, try to. Who knows with this dress. I suppose you'll be alerted if it turns into a disaster."

For the first time in the night, her body reluctantly left his.

Jocelyn gently pulled opened the glass door and entered the minuscule golden hallway to find what she was searching for, alone with the elaborate designs of various portraits of past kings. She stopped to admire them one by one, barely there for half a second before a hand grasped tightly about her neck. The force of the mysterious grip slammed her back harshly against the wall and she opened her mouth to scream, the body of an unknown assailant pressing against her.

The king's hand smothered her lips. "It's best you be quiet, sweet girl. I'd hate for there to be an accident."

"Mm--" Her hands pressed against his chest in attempt to fight him off, but where she had grown mentally strong her body still lacked. William let go of her mouth and wrapped his hands around her slender throat. "Just what do you think you are, Jocelyn? Hm? A princess so soon, a plaything that my brother is going to protect?"

"He is better than you," came a choked response. "He won't hurt me."

"No. But I will, my dear. Count on that." His lips brushed against hers, voice no louder than a growled whisper, sending her bones into a quake that wouldn't cease. "I will hurt you. Be it now or later, I will. And I'll leave you begging for mercy, begging me that I'd killed you when I had the chance, wishing you'd left and gone back to your pitiful life. And I will enjoy hurting you. I pro--"[/fieldbox]

 

[Lillian Gray]

[fieldbox="Alexander Blackwood; The Last Good Man, #166b22, solid, 10"]"Get your hands off of her!" Alexander growled at his elder brother.

He had promised Jocelyn that he wouldn't leave her, and the ill feeling in his stomach as he watched her go had been a cautionary warning. One, which, he was glad to have listened to. Where Jocelyn exited, William had followed close on her heel with murder on his mind, and anger in his eyes. Alexander knew that look, how could he not? Without any hesitation Alexander tore William off of Jocelyn and shoved him into the wall with a hard smack, his arm pushing hard against his neck. The older brother pushed hard against Alexander's arm, but the younger of the two would not relent. The Prince barred his teeth in fury. His eyes were wide open as they bore holes into William.

"You dare to lay a hand on her?" Alexander roared. "Just because you're out of sight, does not mean you have free reign to touch a single hair on her head!"

William pushed his brother away and made a fist, swinging wildly just after Alexander took a step back. The King missed, his crown faltered forward onto his forehead and his face grew hot with unreleased frustration. Their quarrels had been going on since they were children, but now that they were grown men with muscles and knives, the game was more deadly. William adjusted the crown on his head and tried not to look foolish with it having been crooked.

"I am the King! If I want to wrap my hand around her throat and squeeze the air from her lungs, I will!" William retorted. "You will not command me in my own domain. She is nothing but scum beneath my feet, a minor inconvenience to say the least. If I want her gone, it will be so."

"An inconvenience you put upon yourself, and an advantage you gave to me. Just remember, brother, who it was who lined those women up. Who it was who gave me the option in hand selecting my wife to be from a lot of slave women you so disgustingly rounded up for a sick display of choice. You dare to insult her, dare to even look her way after stealing her away from her family during a time of Peace." Alexander spat at his brother's feet, and took a subtle step towards Jocelyn. His brother was still too close for his liking, a simple jab of his arm and she'd be in his grasp. "And if you dare to touch her again, I'll see to it that you're the one begging for my mercy."

"I. Am. Your. King!" William screamed with white hot fury. He yanked Jocelyn back into his grip, his arm locked around her throat, choking her. "Now beg!"

Beneath the thick fabric his muscles bulged with unwavering strength. Alexander watched her struggle to breathe, her eyes fluttered softly as William pressed harder against her airways, cutting off what little supply of air she had through the so called webs in her lungs. He opened his mouth to speak and his mask of the stoic fiance faltered. William smiled devilishly, victory was his and he damn well knew, a triumphant glow enveloped his features.

"Beg!" He ordered.

"Don't hurt her!" Alexander cried immediately after.

William pushed the girl towards Alexander, and he caught her in his arms. They lowered to the floor, Jocelyn sputtered and coughed as they fell in one another's arms. She was in obvious pain and grasping for all the air she could hold now that she was able. The Prince placed a gentle hand against her bare back and gazed down to examine her with his own two eyes, eyes filled with a mixture of absolute terror and adoration all at once. There was fury there, too, but it was all for his abominable brother. He caused her so much misery without so much as raising a hand in her direction. She'd offended him too greatly to let it simply slide. William could have done much worse had he wanted.

"You will call off this wedding." William ordered. "Or I will end it myself. Remember this. You have a week."

Even retreating, William managed to look dignified as he reentered the ball room. He adjusted his collar and let out a huff of air. Although his back was turned, Alexander could see him standing there resuming the smug expression he usually donned when addressing the public. His confidence increased with his victory, small as it was. Surely he would make a mockery of what happened in the hall, but it was the last thing on Alexander's mind now as he held his fiancee in his arms. She struggled to breathe.

"Jocelyn, hold on to me." He instructed her without any other warning before scooping her up, gown and all, into his arms. The heavy blue fabric draped dramatically over his arm in waves of rippling threads. Alexander tucked one arm under her knees, the other he used to support her head parallel to his chest. She could hear his heart there, pounding like war drums in his chest. They had lost the battle that day. The King had won, and he still had his people to praise and shower him with unquestionable submission. The dent in his armor was just a dent, something he could repair or replace. Jocelyn had tried her best, Alexander knew she'd done well, but in the end their combined power was not enough to take on the mighty dictator. But he still had her. She was still alive to fight again.

"Listen to my voice." He repeated the phrase he'd uttered just before entering the ballroom. It seemed more urgent this time around. "Listen to me breathe, just breathe."

In.

Out.

"You did so well, Jocelyn, I am proud. Just breathe."

In.

Out.

Alexander hit the call button for the elevator with his shoulder, tapping his foot impatiently as the dial above the metal doors indicated which floor the box was on. Too slow. He thought. Alexander wiped at Jocelyn's face to make sure she was alright, soothing her with sweet words of praise. He brushed his hand through her tousled hair and rocked his body from side to side. He couldn't bear it if she wept, seeing her sorrow after something which could have been easily avoided had he simply stayed at her side. Alexander simply couldn't bear it.

In.

"Let's go home."

Out.[/fieldbox]

 

[moffnat]

[fieldbox=Jocelyn McDowell; The Suffering Slave, seagreen, solid, 0, georgia]There was no restraint anymore, no reason she could justify for holding back from Alexander any longer. Twice now he had put her life before his own. Twice he had saved her from a man who could break him so savagely. She wrapped her arms around the prince and buried her face in to his neck, inhaling the scent of him and letting the depth of his voice rumble her core in a soothing vibration.

"You did so well, Jocelyn, I am proud. Just breathe."

In, out. She made her lungs match the pace of his, like a metronome to her heartbeat. "Let's go home."

Home. Does he already consider me a part of his? She smiled wearily despite it all, willing herself into a state of neutrality so that the emotions wouldn't overwhelm her all at once, but she was her father's daughter in nearly every aspect and failure to cry wasn't an option. Her heart remained on her sleeve, or in her particular case, in a prince's gentle hands. She sniffled as tears mixed of sorrow and joy trailed down painted cheeks.

When the pair had returned to the upper floors, Alexander carried her in to the warmth of his room, which had temporarily been hers until she was comfortable sharing. He placed her gingerly atop the bed and promised to bring back some ephedra for her lungs, but the dread returned. Alexander had barely lifted himself an inch before Jocelyn pulled him back to her.

"Wait," she choked out, eyes of aquamarine begging him to stay. "Please, don't go. Wait a minute. P-Please, let me speak." The prince seemed shocked but Jocelyn gave him no time to question her. She sat up from the blankets, arms still wrapped around his neck, and with little hesitation she rested her forehead gently against his. That familiar sensation of souls intertwined pumped through her blood once again.

"I'm sorry," she wept, hands slipping downward to rest against his chest. "I'm so sorry. I came here thinkin' you were gonna treat me terribly and I had every reason to think so, but I judged you, I was wrong. I was so wrong, your highness. You're a good man. You always have been to me and I was stupid to hold on to any of those predispositions longer than I should've. You just lost your parents and your brother is cruel, and I didn't help at all, I fear I made it worse..." Teary eyes lifted to meet his, the softest of sobs creeping past her lips before she struggled to compose herself.

"I'm to be your wife in three more days. And I know you now, more than I did before, more than I ever would've bothered to try. I'm not afraid anymore. He has to be stopped, he has to be. We can do it. We can do it, I know we can. I believe in you as I believe in myself. And your mother and father will be so proud of you for fixing a broken system, for becoming everything they could've ever wanted and more. Together we can..." Jocelyn sobbed again, removing her head from his to look better into his eyes. "I won't have any regrets walkin' down that aisle if it means accomplishin' what you've set out to do. You are a blessin' to me, Prince Blackwood. You are impossible and wonderful and I'm lucky, so lucky that I was picked in that lineup if it means I can help you change the world." She couldn't seem to keep her voice to herself, nor did she want to in hopes that it would make up for all the silence she had given him these past few weeks, all the missed opportunities to know him better. Jocelyn placed her hands on his cheeks and offered a sorrowful smile.

"There is a last good man in this place, and the gods brought me to 'im."[/fieldbox]

 

[Lillian Gray]

[fieldbox="Alexander Blackwood; The Last Good Man, #166b22, solid, 10"]Like music to his ears, her words orchestrated a symphony of joy and elation to his weary heart. He closed his eyes as her hands rested on his cheeks, the warm touch of a woman which he yearned to call his own. Jocelyn was the true blessing. Had it been anyone else, their spirit weak or their heart not so bold, had their drive not been steadfast in going along with the Prince's wild plans, their engagement would have fallen apart in a moment.

And there she was, apologizing to him for believing what every slave was brought up to think was common sense. Royals were harsh, nobles were cruel, and they had no heart for the lessers.

"Perhaps it was the gods who brought you to me instead." Alexander opened his eyes, deep blue orbs which glowed with a peace of mind. He cupped a hand over hers and rubbed his thumb along the sore surface of her skin, still torn from her days in the mines. "Every slave is born to believe royals to be betters, you all have your judgement, and I would have been a fool to assume you thought otherwise from the start. We knew nothing of each other. I would be a fool again to let you apologize for such rational behavior, such a normal understanding for the caste you were born to. For this, I cannot let you apologize, for you have done no wrong. You tried hard to save yourself from a pain my brother caused you. This only makes you human."

Alexander removed his hand from hers, instead taking it upon himself to wipe the tears from her face along with the smeared remnants of makeup beneath her aquamarine eyes. Covered with the smudges of paint and ruined by tears, he still thought they were just as beautiful.

"We have the same emotions, we both feel pain as well as joy. Content, jealousy, glee, and anger. Our bones will grow weary when we work, and our breath short when we run. My brother doesn't believe that we are equals, but I see no difference here..." Alexander pulled his hand from her face and pressed their palms flat together. While his hand engulfed hers, tall and broad, they were one in the same. "Do you?"

William might have scoffed and pointed out the work on her skin compared to the soft flesh of Alexander's palm. The fact that there might have been dirt or shit under her nails, whereas his own would have been polished and cut to a decent length. By comparison, their experiences were different, but in composition they weren't unalike at all. Alexander wrapped his hand around her own with their fingers intertwined to gently calm her sorrows. She wept because she felt sorry for assuming he would be so cruel, when all she wanted was to keep herself safe. How could he forgive her for such a natural reaction?

"Jocelyn, you've done quiet the opposite of making my life worse." Alexander chuckled in a steep attempt to lighten the mood. "What better opportunity than to learn of the abuse of your caste than from your own mouth? What better reason to work for equality when I know your family, soon to be mine, is suffering because of laws I am fully capable of changing? My brother may be cruel, but for once in his life he's given me the best of opportunities."

Alexander stroked her tear stained cheek, his hand lingered too long on her skin. Gently, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against her forehead. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, and he held her there. Two tortured souls were allowed the comfort of one another, to share their pain and bathe in the other's glory.

He pulled away and wiped once more at her face.

"Still, if you need to hear me say it once, I'll say it. You've done no wrong, I can forgive your past behaviors if you can forgive my inability to keep you safe during your week of peace. Now, stay here, rest. I'll return in only a moment with some ephedra and a towel for your face." Alexander told her. The man stood, his hand lingered on her cheek as he reluctantly walked towards the door, towards the only place he knew where the life saving leaves were. They parted briefly, and he already wished to be back at her side.[/fieldbox]

 

[moffnat]

[fieldbox=Jocelyn McDowell; The Suffering Slave, seagreen, solid, 0, georgia]Jocelyn's spirit drifted to peaceful rest. The prince left her side in search of the healing medicine and it took her a moment to move, touching her face where he had as if her skin would remember the feeling. He's so kind. She rose from the comfort of the prince's bed and dressed in her comfortable nightclothes, wiping the makeup from her face with the chemicals Hannah had shown her and removing the pins from her curled hair. She climbed into the warmth of the bed and waited for Alexander to return, but the moment her head hit the pillow she was lost to the world of dreams, not to return until the sun rose once more.

Her sleepy thoughts were smothered with a handsome smile.

---

JANUS 13, YEAR 2418 CE​

Warmth encased Jocelyn's gentle frame when she slowly stirred back to life, groaning as her body stretched its lazy muscles. She lifted her head from a feather pillow and pulled the blankets from her well-rested body, the scent of ephedra filling her nostrils with a comforting medicinal scent. Birds twittered outside the window and her skin was electric with the memory of her fianceé's soothing touch.

Hang on. Blankets? Ephedra? They weren't there when I went to sleep.

...It was Alexander, wasn't it. The thought made her smile like the sweet little fool she was, heat flashing across her cheeks in a bright pink blush. There is no better man in this city than him, I think. Not a single one. Except maybe Jacob. I should invite him here sometime.

Jocelyn hopped off of the bed and brushed out her chestnut hair, letting unaltered curls extend down the length of her slender back. She adjusted the silken nightgown around her body, looking in the mirror as it hugged her natural curves, the sway of her hips and the slopes of her breasts. I should ask for a looser nightgown soon. But at least I look like I've put on some weight...that's good. That's really good. Sighing contently, Jocelyn pulled open the metal doors and closed them behind her as quietly as she was able. Since the sun had fully risen it was safe to assume that the prince had let her sleep to her heart's content, and she was eternally grateful for that. Clearly her body had needed it despite the exhaustion she still felt.

Cautiously, in case there were others sleeping while she had woken up, Jocelyn crept out into the main foyer to the sound of an announcer speaking of last night's events on that massive screen she'd tampered with only a week prior. The curly head of Alexander was seen on the adjacent couch, watching what was being broadcasted with a hidden expression.

"...it was just tasteless, Hayden. Quite tasteless. Jocelyn McDowell comes into the Archaedon Tower under the prince's protection and she spoke out against her king twice in the same ballroom. She is gutless and poison to our poor prince's brain, she is. Turning him into something he's not. I don't like it. She needs to be removed."

"I beg to differ, Charles. Prince Alexander has been an advocate for caste equality since he learned to speak, it's no mystery that he would defy the law and marry a slave girl. As shocking as it is, I don't fault him for it."

"Are you all forgetting that the king literally lined up the slaves girls and made the prince choose on threat of death? Or has that all escaped your minds? Because I can wait until you remember again."

"This isn't a ploy, Elsor. Gods be damned, the prince is quite literally breaking the law! Whether the king forced him or not is out of the question. He should end this pointless marriage and throw his hat in with the nobler classes. I hear Giselle Beaulieu is looking for a husband. I don't understand why he chose a slave either, out of all the lower class opportunities! A commoner would have been more appropriate if he was to find a Lesser bride. Hannah Sweden would make better sense. Hell, anyone but that bloody McDowell girl and I'd respect his decision to marry a Lesser much more."

Is this what he has to listen to every day? Jocelyn thought, biting her lower lip. This sounds like pure poison. I wish he would listen to something happier. It dawned on her then that perhaps she could give him something better to listen to, or at least occupy his attention with, and with a hesitant step forward she rounded the couch corner to faced Alexander with a great smile. The fire he'd ignited in her soul was glowing through her cheeks.

"Good morning," she stated with a little wave though she was mere feet from him. Jocelyn climbed onto the couch beside Alexander, tucking her legs to the side, head resting lightly on his broad shoulder in case he wished to squirm from the contact. She lifted a hand to point at the brightly-lit screen.

"Who are those fat men?" Jocelyn inquired. "I don't like the way they talk."​

[/fieldbox]