» theselectedhq​:

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“Hilarious.” Ryder deadpans. Slightly agitated that his point didn’t seem to have come across. Sam had always been better at this anyways. His brother had inherited a more diplomatic and patient nature; Subtle but sincere, whereas Ryder never even managed to get past quick wit and a charming smile. ‘Sure that’ll be no problem, considering you’re the baker’s daughter.’ The quip stings down the back of his throat as he swallows the words. He reminds himself he’s not fifteen anymore. But old habits die hard and he’s always been too sharp with his tongue; Knows the consequences of that all too well, too. So instead he clears his throat, and tries –for once, to be the prince he’s been brought up to be;  “Just–don’t bring it up, first thing. Try and warm up to it. Ease it into the conversation when you’re sure he’s..” He trails off, voice hoarse.  Rational sounds like the wrong thing to say and he swears he isn’t usually this bad at being charismatic. Something about Blanche, about this whole situation, makes him feel on edge, off kilter. “amicable or something.” He finishes, lamely. Much of a king he’ll make. At this point, he thinks maybe he should just let her do her thing. She’ll have a much better shot at this than he does.

The indication towards his father’s obsession with control has him raise an eyebrow and he wonders just how much the staff can see. How much they really know about this golden cage they call a kingdom. If my father could, he’d have a say in everything. “it’ll be better not to bother him with something trivial.“ Ryder lies. She doesn’t have to know that it really isn’t a wise decision. That he should request a consultation with his father. But it’d take days before she’d even be allowed near the suite, not to mention a shitload of frivolous paperwork, and even then, only flocked by guards at her every turn. And that was only if the man agreed. The probability of that happening was down to a minimum. No, if you wanted anything here, you’d have to keep quiet.

The exclamation draws his amusement. The corner of his mouth tugging up as he watches her straight out her hair. “Good to know you think being the queen means you’re off duty.” He teases, hand grazing the small of her back as he leads her through the long winded hallways. Moving up towards the rooms reserved only for the girls from the selection. He’s sure Mackenzie is already waiting, Impatient as ever.

「 ♕ 」  » She forgets her place so easily around the boys she grew up with. As if the castes were merely a suggested hierarchy, not an actual social construct that made her different, made her life worth less than those of her friends. “I believe I’ve got this, thank you.” And if that didn’t sound condescending enough to talk to a crown prince, she dared to add, “I mean, if the complete newcomers can be prepped to become amateur princesses in such little time, then surely I stand the perfect chance. At least I can remember my way around the halls.” Though an insult to the Selection candidates had little to do with daring to speak her mind, really. Rather it was an inconsiderate display of jealousy that she didn’t even know she had in her. Let alone, be able to apologize for in time.

As he led her down the corridors of dull, washed out servants’ quarters, Blanche was forced to face the facts. Ryder’s well-embellished, soft-looking tunic stood out in stark contrast to the life she lived and breathed. Yes, soon she would wear riches from rags to mingle in his world, yet that was nothing but a regular Tuesday to him. What was her dream worth in the eyes of those who yearned for power and gold? She felt stupid. Stupid that she’d made a request for a trifle. Stupid that even despite that realization, she’d still beg for the scraps. Blanche picked her nails. “Well, I do appreciate you could find the time to accompany me then. I know it must be just... frivolous pastime, but not to me. All the time I spent looking forward to this will only double in time spent enjoying it, so thank you.” Was that too forward? It was hard to decipher while looking away from his eyes. She took a step back, futilely. Every time she tried to move on from any tender feelings, Ryder was right there.

Belonging with the elder staff girls, those not quite grown-up and worn-out just yet, Blanche possessed a certain freedom to bend weekly schedules to her will. For the most part, she had managed to avoid the large, gilded doors to rooms meant to impress guests. She felt better off in places where she was the one who knew best. So apart from bringing in the occassional dessert tray or emergency pincushion whenever she felt like she was missing out, this was new territory. One hand on the doorhandle, she turned to prince Ryder, “Will you meet me after or?” Or would he stay?

»  theselectedhq​:

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He barely notices the curtsies anymore. It’s a mandated gesture that he long since figured is more of a custom than anything out of respect; A tradition venerated by the entitlement of the elite. (A nice stroke for their already inflated ego’s.) He’d tried once, to tell them it wasn’t necessary, that they didn’t need to bow at his every movement. Told Blanche she really ought to just greet him by his name. He certainly hadn’t garnered anything to earn their respect. But they all seemed intent on continuing the silly practice. He’d dropped the topic after his father had lectured him on the importance of his stature. “I think it’s worth spreading. Just not –right away.” The idea had been a point of discussion between him and Sam for some time. A way to ease the tension and dissipate some of the growing poverty within the lower castes. But arguments like these were precarious. Especially with his father. While he admired her ambition, he needed her to understand the delicacy of the situation; Needed her to know court was a vicious game of lies and deceit without breaking the delusion of her fantasy.

The proclamation of her speech has him tense for a second. Shoulders rigid and jaw tight. He means to say she was never that invisible; Not to him, not to Sam, he’s sure. But he lets it die in the back of his throat like he does with so many other things. He knows that’s not what she means. Knows he shouldn’t crush her resolve by telling her she’s probably better off hidden from the subjugation of the crown. So he averts his eyes, staring at a random spot in the small, confined room, so different from his own grand suite. He doubts she barely has the space to work on her dresses here. “I’m sure you’ll make a fine impression. Don’t worry about it.” Ryder dismisses.

He only looks up at the implication of his mother. The depth of his blue eyes aglow with a frigid grey. He had never considered the prospect of the new queen—of his wife or Sam’s wife to be wearing his mother’s old dresses. He’d known her chambers were reserved, restricted and secured for future use. But he hadn’t contemplated the notion of someone else living there. He almost tells her off, rising from his slouched position against the doorframe. But her demure and hopeful demeanor makes him stop. This is Blanche. She doesn’t mean anything by her request. It’s simple and laughable in the eyes of what the other girls had asked for as ‘bean queen’. This is her day, and he’s supposed to make it better. “Consider it done. No need to ask my father.” It’d be better if the man didn’t know. Or found out only after Blanche had gotten what she needed. “Are you ready?” He looks around, a little uncomfortable and impatient to get on with this day.

「 ♕ 」  » Had he forgotten there were less than 24 hours left to her reign? Whatever she had to say, it would have to leave her mouth today. “Fine, I’ll wait to be re-elected.” Some sarcasm seeped through her tight-lipped smile. Though she couldn’t expect him to understand. If his future outlook was only filled with solving global problems, perhaps one fire didn’t seem as dire to put out as the other. Perhaps, there always seemed to be more time left to fix something. No, Blanche didn’t mean that. She knew from eavesdropping on all sorts of important meetings, and scattering off to hide when volumes were raised in court, that running the kingdom was difficult. The boys were not to blame. They were just trying their best.

In fact, she thought it was rather nice to get Ryder’s advice. She could swallow lessons from him much easier than from anyone else. If he told her not to worry, she’d be as calm as the ocean breeze in June. Strive to be, anyway. Blanche thought she’d noticed it, the shift in his posture over words left unsaid. But fear and guilt were known to play tricks like that on the mind. For all she knew, prince Ryder was simply bored. Who was she to think her mediocre requests would have any impact on his day? She drew in a breath, “Are you sure... it is wise to go beyond your father’s back? You know he might like a say over even the little things.” Right underneath the surface, her elation simmered. She should just take his kindness and spin around out of joy until she was dizzy. However, news of recent yelling-matches within the palace walls and the eerie silence that followed them travelled fast. Frankly, ever since the Selection had begun, king William seemed to personally approve many more decisions than before. She’d seen his signature even signed off on the cleaning crew’s rotation schedules last month.

Straightening out her hair, that normally draped her shoulders only at night, she checked the room for forgotten errands. Then a single ‘ha’ sounded in amusement. “For a moment there, I was checking for a tray or pin cushion to bring to the rooms of ladies Amaya or Serene. Being off-duty on the palace grounds is rather strange, forgive me.” As quick as she gracefully managed, she left the room behind her. Holding up her arm, she easily took up the role of (pretending to) be in the lead, “Alright, let’s go, we’ve already been burning enough daylight.”

»  theselectedhq​:

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It was a tradition many girls revered, cherished even; The chance to be queen for a day. They’d get to walk around in the finest of silk, eat the most exquisite courses, have people come running at their every back and call and do whatever their heart desired. It had been a brilliant idea by father dearest. He’d told them it’d be in the best interest of the people. That they’d feel more included in the royal household; Their hypocritical monarchy. (tyranny, Mackenzie would say.) It’d stop the lower castes from rioting, he’d hoped. Ryder had raised his eyebrow at the idea, four years ago. The familiar curl of a sneer threatening to form across his lips. If he hadn’t known better, he would have mentioned that it seemed awfully convenient only young girls were allowed to participate. But at twenty four, with deep scars already covering his back, he’d figured it best to stay silent. Whenever the king made up his mind, there was little to do to change it. He guessed it didn’t really matter in the long run anyway. It was a sanctimonious concept that would hold no sway with the rebels. The people would get what they want; entertainment and a chance to lavish themself in what they believed were riches and paradise. The girls would get a grand day, and, if they played their cards right, would leave without knowing what went on behind the palace doors. (if not it’d just be one more innocent live added to the pile of bodies this kingdom fucked over.) And Sam and him would have a day of no scrutiny from their father. He’d be too preoccupied with whatever girl was ‘lucky’ enough to be his queen.

What he hadn’t counted on was having to be present during the event, or more accurately, having to be an escort. (He should have realized, as heir to the throne.) And he definitely hadn’t counted on Blanche being picked this year. He supposed the girl would be ecstatic; Many of the servants dreamed of being picked, if only to live the life they continuously provided for every day. The problem was; Blanche was nice. Too innocent to be a victim of his fathers debauchery. Blanche was someone he knew, had grown up with. She wasn’t a meaningless face he could pretend didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. And now he’d have to watch her dream be crushed by the bitter reality of aristocracy. He just hoped she wouldn’t see too much.

He’d had the decency to knock first. He might be an ass but he wouldn’t treat the servants like dirt. His mother, at least, raised him better than that. Her voice seemed to carry from inside though, muffled by the barrier of white oak. Hand raised, he’s able to catch whatever she’s mumbling to herself, and for a minute his sour mood is replaced by amusement. He’d forgotten what a striver she can be. Leaning against the doorframe, he barely has a chance to say anything before she’s making her statement. ‘the only thing my father will require is your skirt on his floor’ he’s wise enough not to mutter that out loud. “You got quite the plans for today then.” He says instead, looking her over. “Though i’d advise not to bring up the kingdom’s poverty on your first big moment.”

「 ♕ 」  » It had been a day to remember. The first ‘bean queen’ announcement. Though Blanche wasn’t particularly fond of the name, the idea that the election would be won by finding a bean in a piece of cake served her well. Never before had she rushed the dusting of delicate vases and prized possessions just to see her father a little earlier on the day. Neither calm nor collected, Blanche had disrupted his process of putting delicate, sweet swirls on tarts. “Will you be making the cake? And hiding the bean?”, had she puffed. Her hands still shook slightly on the flour-covered counter. It had earned her nothing but denial. She wouldn’t understand it then, the secrecy and the holding back for their one and only daughter. Her life was one born inside the palace walls, she’d never known it any other way so she could never understand the need to abide and appease in order to preserve that life. Not until later.

She curtsied upon prince Ryder’s entrance, a gesture perfected over daily practice, but was quick to start talking about herself again. “My mother always did say not all ideas are worth spreading.” Albeit only to me and always followed by a rant about knowing one’s place, she thought. “So thank you for that reminder. I guess I’ll have to find another way to make a lasting, but good, impression. After today, I’ll never be invisible again.” The border between confidence and delusion was rarely respected by Blanche. In her defense, she’d seen bean queens come and go without any display of power or enjoying their power a little too much. She wouldn’t make such unbalanced appearance, bossing about friends and colleagues only to come crawling back the next day. She’d face everyone in the great hall with a smile and show she could do better. 

Being taken serious, however, required focus. Regrettably, with Prince Ryder in her room, the only focus familiar to her was on casting her eyes anywhere else. It just seemed so long ago they’d had a conversation this close to each other, Blanche felt she might as well have been facing a stranger. A stranger she knew well enough though to understand her favourite part of the day might be a sore spot for him. “Actually, there is one thing on the agenda I’m rather looking forward to. It’s silly, really, but there are certain fabrics stocked away since,” your mother left. “since they’re reserved... for the queen. I know that’s not actually me but I was hoping to borrow a few metres for this dress I’m working on. Anyways, most of my plans involve convincing king William during our audience. Maybe he’ll grant me the favour.”

@theselectedhq​

「 ♕ 」  » “I’m so glad you all have the privilege of recording this monumentous occasion for posterity.” Blanche’s voice was uncommonly cordial as she repeated the sentence, testing out how different emphasises would roll off her tongue. “I’m so glad you all- I’m so glad-” The walk around her room only distracted her. Staring out the window at the bustle of the courtyard, she recollected her thoughts. “Where was I? As the queen for a day I need no more than a moment of your time to address the poverty of the country in terms of solutions. By example, a pre-tax payroll deduction for employee giving, with other words granting the people who donate to charity a tax break, could do wonders for the lower class economy, I think.” It was a borrowed thought. One she’d picked up from a conversation between the boys and politicians she’d waited on last week. Her reflection stared back at her from the mirror, proudly beaming at her for remembering all the words to a speech that ought to make her sound smart or well-educated.

A knock on her chamber’s door startled her. Never one to close or lock up on the servants’ floor, she didn’t even need to walk over. The door pretty much opened itself. How long had her visitor been standing there? How loud had she been practising? To save herself any embarrassment, she told her visitor, “I know I won’t be doing a big speech or something. Just want to be prepared for anything His Majesty may require of me. Can you believe this is happening?”

»  theselectedhq​:

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“I had no idea you’re such an expert on diplomacy. I suppose those lessons with Lady Elodie did pay off, after all.” Her eyes vye back to Samuel eventually, glimmering with unadulterated cheek. The banter comes easily to her; something she ought to have reined in by now. But Mackenzie was never one to play by the rules of court and she’s known these boys too long to hold back her tongue. Nevertheless, the slump in his demeanor softens her; her features smoothing out. “Oh come, he has nothing on you.” Assures Mackenzie. Trying to catch his eyes from across the table. Any girl would be lucky to have him, she’s thinks. He’s always been the better part. The only hope of light in his twisted family.

Her gaze strays back to the blond in question, the laughter emanating from the group around him tickling across her spine. And there’s a sudden bitterness in her mouth she can’t seem to place. The shift in ambience palpable before Samuel even speaks. “You forget, rejection early on can be less painful then finding out you never really stood a chance at all.” Jewel eyes cast downwards for a moment, fingers trailing down the stem of her wine glass absent-mindedly before she catches herself. “I mean, imagine you stringing all these girls along, and they actually start to fall for you. You’d be breaking their hearts. Trust me, they’ll be glad you were straightforward in the end.” Despite her own objections about the contest, she’s sure Samuel doesn’t have it easy. His heart seems to weigh heavy on the pressure of finding a wife while trying not to hurt anyone’s feelings. And his plight for normalcy garners her sympathy. He always was more benevolent than any of them. “I can’t help you talking with these girls without ulterior motives. But i can try and find more out about them. – Just don’t tell your brother. Wouldn’t want him thinking I’m choosing sides.” Adds Kenzie, playfully. Attempting to break through the solemn atmosphere. But his next words put that sour feeling back in to her chest and she can’t help but steal a glance at the gloating royal and his flock of suitresses. “I can.” The bitter sound of her voice cuts down her throat and leaves her mouth feeling dry. Almost desparate for anything that will drown out the sensation. The grip on her glass tightens before she can raise it to her lips, and she’s sure she’s tasting the blood of her friends instead of the sweet texture William has chosen to serve tonight. The irony is cruel and she knows it. “Oh I don’t know, i always thought it required quite the talent to be so dense.” She hears herself quip. And the burning sensation of the alcohol seems to bring her back down. With a grin, she steadies her focus on to Samuel alone. “You didn’t!” Mackenzie utters out. The mention of both boys trying their hand at ventriloquism is enough to distract her mind from the suffocating feeling she gets when she sees his hands hovering over the smooth skin of one of the girls or has to think about the way William’s supplying his guests with nothing but lies. “What I wouldn’t give to see that. Or the look on your father’s face, for that matter.”

「 ♕ 」  » Samuel drops a silence, for what seems a moment to gather his thoughts but is really a moment to control his burps. Very pensive he must've looked. Though regrettably, his thoughts were too clouded with his sugar crash and narcissism to tie together most of lady Mackenzie's advice. It wasn't until the threat of breaking girls hearts hung in the air, that Samuel disheartened agreed, "No, no one wants that... I suppose." He looked around at the household sea of politicians and influencers alike, “Then again, I can’t imagine why anyone wants this either. Do find out about that, will you? I fear it’ll be long before father’s reign falls, so if they’re pining for the throne or, in contrast, serene family Sundays, we’re the last household they’d want to be welcomed in.” All bets for a normal life would be off for one lucky lady. Perhaps that weighed Samuel down more than having to show them the door. To know that whoever he will have picked, would share his fate, for better and more than definitely for worse. “Though any shred of mundane insight is also much appreciated of course, lady Mackenzie.” He musn’t forget that she was still a guest of the palace, not a servant paid to run Samuel’s silly requests. He couldn’t command her any more than he could command a butterfly to be his eyes and ears.

As if the pure disjection of his chosen topics wasn't enough of a reason to quit on this conversation, Samuel's constant badmouthing of his father surely wouldn't lift lady Mackenzie's spirits either.  If he had any heart, he would put an end to this. If only to become better company. He set his plate with just two mini chocolate tarts left aside. Then his hands cupped her hand clenched around the stem of her glass. “I’ve upset you,” he looked into her eyes, adding emphasis to his words with a discreet, little squeeze, “forgive me.” Though her story sold and her grin was convincing, he’ll grant her that. There were quips that normally would never slip past her lips. And Sam thought he knew who could bring out the worse in her. The mention of his father over and over could not have been received with fond memories. "As the daughter of a man so close the king, I dread you know the looks on his face as well as I do. It’s not a friendly sight. I shouldn’t have put it at the top of our minds.” Excuses seemed out of place. Lady Mackenzie stood tall and proud and this was nothing she couldn’t handle, surely, but some things at the dessert buffet were better left burried. Like his father. Samuel scratched the spot on his neck right under his chin, though it was his throat that felt dry. “Perhaps, I can escort you for some fresh air. Or a refill.”

» theselectedhq​:

⌜ ✧ °˖ ╾ “Is that a hint of jealousy I hear, samuel?” her eyebrow raises in a mocking familiarity, lips quirked at the pettiness that she knows she’s right. she’s known him too long not to able to pick apart his every word. and samuel has never been as good as his brother at hiding his soul. her eyes stray to the flurry of women emmanuel seems to have enthralled. his dirty blond hair barely peeking out over the enthused flitting of girls. It’s the smirk she knows he’s sporting that irritates her the most. “emmanuel always did have his charms. – you can’t really blame them; vying for one man while he’s dating thirty five others is hardly fair, now is it?” her accent lilts and kenzie raises her glass; sipping down the pleasant warmth of what she’s sure is a million dollar wine. william only does serve the best after all. if only his guests would figure that it’s bought with the blood of others. “I don’t remember a talent show…no, do tell me, I’d love to hear what you and your brother got up to.” she flutters her attention back to the prince, a small smile curved at the edge of her mouth.

「 ♕ 」  » “Now what’s the diplomatic answer to that? Envy only grows in soil of admiration, something, something?” His hand gestures in circular motions in an effort to finish the thought. But together with Mackenzie’s, his gaze drifts off to his cousin from the South. Same royal stature, same fancy clothes but sporting a smile so confident, clearly hardly anyone could resist it. Albeit looking a little conceited to the trained eye of Samuel, like he was used to not being refused anything. “Yeah, no, jealousy it is.” He admitted in one breath before busying himself with his piece of cake. Where dad had spared no expense, Sam had spared up all the room for the dessert buffet, knowing it’d be worth it. He ought to stop by the kitchen later this evening to pass on his compliments. Or would his time be better spent... Samuel’s gaze drifts back briefly to the group of suitresses, “I know I should start sending some home but it’s granted not my favourite choice to make... When they saw me during the broadcast, I had opportunities to offer and now every time I’m face to face with one of them, I can only offer rejection at best. So yeah, I’m a little jealous he has it so easy,” Sam rests his head on his hand, too busy digesting his wine and feeling like a bother to the other to rein in his honesty. “Talking to them without an ulterior motive. Well, without the motive of marriage anyways - I can’t speak for what’s on our Emmanuel’s mind. Which, by the way, I tried once, at said talent show,” He perks up slightly, hiding his snort by sipping his glass. “They always teamed us together, apparently cause Semmanuel was a funny duo name- You know how dad pays the staff to laugh at anything that could make a good headline. I, to this day, still think he’d hoped one of the crown princes would be a good influence on the other. But what happened was that neither of us came up with mutual talents so we were forced to bring something mediocre for laughs, like ventriloquism.” At this point in the memory, he saw the cameras and stage covered in snow white coating; the practising contestants split up on two sides - royalty and charity and amongst them were two (hardly) teenage princes bickering over a microphone. “Now guess who wanted to pull the strings, and then guess how that turned out for him?” There was a reason the biennial talent show no longer entertained the folk’s screens after ‘08. It was a slightly drunk Samuel, reminiscing about his first televised stunt, who took huge pride in being said reason.

@theselectedhq​

「 ♕ 」  » “Now, I would say I’m surprised to see our table nearly empty but we did invite cousin Emmanuel... so I can only be surprised our table is not entirely empty.” Prince Samuel laughed slightly as he picked at his plate with a silver dessert fork. It was the kind of laugh a man uttered when none of his other reactions seemed appropriate. One born out of a dash of self-pity and a sliver of jealousy. He remembered the days where the thought of the palace overrun by women seemed stifling and overwhelming. Now, he hated to admit he’d easily gotten used to the constant, readily available company and even, perhaps, sort of missed it a bit tonight. The moping was all in good fun, however, knowing this absence was momentary. It created more realizations than irritations, really. He glanced briefly over his shoulder to spot most of the contestants, then turned his attention back to the taken seat beside him, “I’m telling you, it’s like the winter of ‘08 all over again. When there was that talent show and... gosh, my apologies, I won’t bore you with that story or you’ll end up leaving too.”

@theselectedhq​

「 ♕ 」  » Diplomacy is key at broadcasted events as these. Showing signs of stress was out of the question. So over the years, king William had mastered the skill of counting his own drinks and had thereby learned just how many he needed to appear calm, collected and dare he say, jovial in the public’s eye. A trait that had suddenly grown importance to him after being read poll results from this morning’s national news spread. Apparently the people not only wanted to know who was in charge but who to look up to - preferably, William answered to both. “I do hope you’re enjoying the festivities this evening,” He spoke, mingling around the palace’s big, decorated ballroom. Then, he leaned in to joke out of earshot. “If not, I can personally recommend trying to spot the nicest wig around the room. It's always a head scratcher.” He threw a meaningful look in the direction of Illéa's very own ministers and chuckled.

「 ♕ 」  » Illéa’s Winter Ball AU

A mock-up invitation for a potential winter ball at the palace. ft. @theselectedhq graphic template by @castoraphics

» theselectedhq‌:

“I don’t think you’ll be building many houses or hotels as queen.” Nova retorts back, half-heartedly. Her fingers curling around the dice to give them a little shake before she allows them to roll over the board. “you just have to be lucky to land on them.” strategy or not, it all came down to a little bit of luck in the end. “yeah, i don’t think anyone has. it’s not particularly exciting to spend your afternoon reading economics.”

"It would be more useful than just having state visits,” Delphine muttered, her eyes transfixed on the other girl’s pawn moving across the board. She wouldn’t have minded visiting shelters, hospitals and the like so much if she could’ve done something to support them afterwards. Though she knew those words should rest on her tongue and not be drawn out any further. “Which I’m sure the king and princes know and execute wonderfully, of course.” Reaching out for the dice with a sealed smile, she couldn’t help but feel she’d ran out of luck lately but didn’t say as much knowing the girl was only trying to help. A rare treat amongst girls within palace walls, she remembered. “Oh but however, do you mean? How can there be anything more exciting than the only thing that’s sustainably free in our world: wisdom?” She giggled at her own attempt to playfully mock their teacher.

» theselectedhq‌:

“you are taking monopoly way too seriously.” Nova mutters, tilting her head to the side for a different view of the board. it was a game she’d found years back, dusty and withered in one of the boxes inside the storage rooms. a funny little ancient piece she’d tried to kill her time with since.

"It’s a quirk of the trade, I suppose. One I did apologize for.” Delphine reminded the girl as she smoothed out her dress under the table. She sat upright like the spitting image of posture even though she’d temporarily lost it earlier. And looking at her current position on the board threatened to push her there once more. “It’s simply- well, the return of investment just appears infinitely bigger if you have a monopoly on the railroads, see?” Perhaps she was overthinking the strategy of what’s supposed to be a pastime game to most people, so she added a quick: “Or so I think, I haven’t read all that much of Miss Elodie’s economic materials yet.”

Mutlu ederek , mutlu olmak bir yürek hüneridir.. 🌞

» theselectedhq‌:

Clever. Both boys – men, had been incredibly quick with their wit since her first acquaintance. She suspected it was part of their charm, the harmless fun behind it unmistakable in their nature. It was something, she’d noticed, their father, her king, lacked in his. With a swift acknowledgement of her own defeat, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks for a moment, Shai smiles in false admonition. “I should have seen that coming.” She admits, stepping a little further into the kitchen. “And I– retract. I’m not eating any of those cookies. It’d be awful to dismantle a fallen soldier.” She adds the last bit as an after-thought, her features smoothing to a gentle smile. The heaviness with which Samual seems to react, falls darkly around the room. She’s seen these tensions before, the way they strain under the mention of their father. But she remains quiet during his excuse. It’s not her job to pry–she’s to pretend she doesn’t notice the cracks in the royal palace. “I see. i’m sure he’ll understand.” There’s a pause, her indecision clear in the way she lingers. Turn around, shaline. “Do you need some help? With cleaning? I was only meant to sent for you. And by the looks of it, your gingerbread men have made quite the mess.”

“Ah, a diplomatic approach,” Sam nodded content, sounding all the more amused rather than formal and approving. He tied the top of the gunny sack into a knot and tossed it by the backdoor. "One of these days I ought to remember not to venture into uncharted territory." He laughed along with her war metaphor. It was only suiting given the battlefield before him. If it hadn't been for the stress that the last couple of days carried behind them, Samuel probably wouldn't have come down here to find some peace and quiet in the first place. Although Shai Miss Warren her company admittedly made for an even better distraction than baking. "That's very polite of you, but only if you're sure. The last thing I'd want is to trouble you any more than I already have by having you run around the place searching for me." He said heartfelt. White, powdered patterns of flour started forming on the counter where he rubbed and he had to count himself lucky that only half of what he wiped up landed on the floor. After a thoughtful moment of silence, he looked up and asked her, "Did father by any chance tell you what he needed me for? I don't want to put you in a tough spot or anything, but it'd be nice to mentally prepare myself for the mood he's possibly in."

» theselectedhq‌:

The ever protruding sound of her heels follows her down the hall and onto the tiled stones. Affirming her entrance even before she’s through the open doors. And inwardly she cringes. The echo of her pumps no place for the late hours. Neither is the clatter that seems to greet her. With a start, she stares at the offender. “I don’t think i’m allowed to disagree with you. But I would encourage a different hobby.” Quips Shai, not humorlessly. Her features softening to a gentle disposition. “As lovely as that sounds, Samuel, I only came because you’re father is sending for you.”

That would be a sad requirement to be penned on her job description, Samuel thought. He could imagine it was perhaps an unspoken rule, a societal convention - but one he didn’t care for so he couldn’t take it seriously and hoped neither would she. “Ooh careful there, one might rephrase their sentences from now on to questions such as ‘I think you should taste these delicious gingerbread cookies, don’t you agree Miss Warren?’” The youngest prince laughed, swaying the platter her way before collecting them in a bag. It’d be a waste not to have the horses taste them. A small sigh escaped his lips when she shares her real purpose of finding him here and he grew more reluctant to turn back around and face her. “Is that so?” He doubted pleasantries were on the agenda this late. Good lords. “Well, I’d be more than happy to rush over there but I’m afraid I’m indisposed at the moment with... cleaning up my mess. So you don’t have to wait about and can just go tell him that if you’d like. I’m sure it won’t surprise him.” He muttered under his breath, having found a rag to wipe the countertops with.

god I am so tired of people throwing roses at my feet as I walk by

» theselectedhq‌:

Curled up deep within the cushions of an opulent armchair, her nose stuck within the dry pages of her book, it’s the sudden splash of cold, icy droplets falling apart against her skin that has Riven startled beyond belief. For a moment she stares, lips parted in incredulity, at the crystal white snow that lays partly splattered across the floor and her skirt. Then she rushes to cry out her dismay. “Foul play!” The amusement in her voice stretches across the room. “We don’t have anything to defend ourselves with!”

「 ♕ 」  » Oh, she couldn’t maintain a straight face when she hit one of the girls gathered in the room. With a giggle, she replied, “Don’t think we’ll read up on proper snowball rules until next week, sorry!” Timila had meant no harm so part of her was relieved to find none was taken. However, the biggest part of her was excited to scoop up some more snow on the windowsill and knead it into a ball. Right as she was ready to launch again, she realized her brunette competitor had a point. “Well,” She took a look around and picked up a pillow. “there we go. I’m certain you can get creative over in your corner, no?”