Young Writers Society

Arianna-

Arianna stared at her, unsure what to say next. Poison...

Derrick had been killed by poison, hadn't he? By that assassin- still totally anonymous, faceless, until Marie managed to do her duty. Her duty, for that was what it was, wasn't it? Not a favour, not a request. Arianna had ordered her to, and therefore she should. Only spying on her half-brother seemed wrong, just that little bit. And asking Marie to do it, had it been too much?

And the most burning question of all, after Derrick's death, was Arianna going to spend the rest of her life second-guessing all of her decisions?

"I don't know who the killer is yet," she said nonchalantly to Vivian, leaning back against the wall.

Vivian opened her mouth, then shut it again, then said, "Perhaps I could assist you there as well."

"No, I have other methods of doing such things," I said, looking around, then leant in towards her. "If you are serious about offering your... other services, though, perhaps you will pay me a visit in my rooms after my afternoon ride and I will give you my verdict then. I shall have to think it over."

Vivian ducked her head. "But of course, my lady."

As if she didn't have enough to think over. But she decided- and it was adamant- that all her further decisions would be clear-cut, obvious, and overall, they would be right.

Sandor
He just couldn’t stay. It was one thing to apologize to someone’s face, and another entirely to sit and wait for him to wake up when all he could see was the damage he’d done. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, and when it became obvious Garis wasn’t waking up anytime soon Sandor beat a slow retreat out of the room, letting the door fall shut with a low thud behind him.

What now, then? He nervously ran a hand through his hair, mind dragging through the possibilities and drawing up the last day’s events. Derrick gone—or not, if what he vaguely remembered Garis saying the previous night had not been conjured out of thin air or an attempt at placating him… and damn the man for not having told him more! Sandor could have done with some precisions, something a bit more concrete than “it’s all fine and he’ll wake up in three days”.

Nothing he could do now but wait for Garis to wake up though, and he only had himself to blame for that.

He sighed. That left his sisters.

Arianna… Ari he didn’t know what to think about anymore. Her tears at the sight of Derrick's body had taken him almost by surprise, so set had he been in his suspicions, and now he was floundering, suddenly unsure. Maybe he should go and—no. No point to it. She’d made it clear to him she didn’t want anything to do with him fifteen years ago, and he doubted a death in the family would be enough to change that.

Fine. Rosalie… he mistrusted her almost as much as he did Ari. They were too close, and too much alike. She didn’t like him either, which at least made it easy for them to mutually ignore one another.

That left Casie. With whom he’d always gone along well with. And who’d been close to Derrick too. Yeah. Casie probably needed to have someone around right now, about as much as Sandor needed to make himself useful.

Which was how he found himself knocking at her door and hoping she was there. “Casie? It’s Sandor. May I come in?”

There was a muffled sound he chose to take for permission, and he slipped into the room, ready to pull out if she showed any signs of not wanting him around after all.

“How are you holding up?” came up automatically in well-worn concerned-older-brother tone, before he registered the situation.

She’d been crying, of course, she was fifteen and her brother was dead and he was an idiot not to have realized and he was still in trouble because he had absolutely no idea whatsoever how to deal with tears and gods this was going to be awkward.

Casilda:

Hugging herself, Casilda sat near the window and cried. It was better than crying in full view of the other nobles. She didn't how long she had been crying for, but eventually she heard Sandor at the door and told him to come in through her sobs. He did, and then he hesitated.

"How are you holding up?” That was an automatic, corncerned brother question, not to mention the tone. Was he worried about her?

"I'm fine," she said, turning towards him. He was watching her closely, wary.

"You don't sound fine," he commented.

Casilda sighed and threw her arms around her half-brother. "No, I'm not. I'm worried!"

And then she broke down into tears again.

Garis

The assassin slipped into Princess Arianna's empty bedroom through the open window. He would have thought, considering her reputation for being scrupulous and that she had hired an assassin herself, that the princess would have been more careful than to leave a window wide open. But, no matter. It made his entry all the more easier, a fact for which Garis and his aching ribs were most grateful.

The moment his feet touched the floor, the assassin set about putting out all the lights in the room but one. That one he placed on a table near the door before he settled himself beside the door to wait. He didn't wait too long.

The door swung open on well-oiled hinges, and Garis heard the princess mutter about useless maids before she went to pick up the lamp. He closed the door and smiled behind his mask as the eldest princess whirled around to face him.

"Good evening, Princess Arianna," he said with a bow, ready to slash at her throat the moment she open her mouth to scream. "I believe you hired me?"

Arianna stepped warily back, regarding him in the dim light. "You must be the assassin. I have been meaning to speak with you."

"Really?" Garis surreptitiously switched his hold from his dagger to a poisoned needle. "It shall have to wait until after I am paid, however."

"Paid? I was under the impression you had already been."

"Oh?" said Garis, amusement leaking into his tone. "I take it dear little sister didn't tell you of our arrangement, then. I was promised half in advance, with the other half upon completion." He moved, nonchalant, towards a set of drapes and toyed with the tie, keeping an eye on Arianna all the while. "I do hope it isn't a problem. It would be most... tragic if another member of the family were to pass away so suddenly..."

Marie

Following Sandor proved to be a trying and yet uneventful day. In the first sense, it had Marie feeling jumpy every time Sandor glanced over his shoulder or slipped out of sight amongst the crowd. No less than twice on the way to their single destination, she lost sight of him and thought her day of spying over, only to catch a glimpse of him disappearing around another corner. Her slight form and unassuming clothes allowed her to hurry unnoticed through the crowd and were perhaps all that saved her from complete failure.

Not that it was much of a success. Marie didn't know the man Sandor visited or care very much about him. He looked badly done by, possibly an accomplish to whatever trouble the heir had got himself into last night. Men and their tavern brawls. Sandor certainly seemed to feel plenty bad about it and so he should. Or maybe the grieving was a part of something else. Marie felt more than guilty when she stole glances at his face through the window as she skulked and passed by over and over again. He stayed a long time and more than once she wished that she could go to him and throw her arms about him. Marie had to bite back the bitter sting of tears as she told herself that he wasn't her brother and this wasn't her business. She was here for the princess' interest and no more.

It was hard not to think that she'd like a family though. She barely remembered the one she used to have but Arianna had made it very clear that if she'd ever been a part of this one, she wasn't now. If Derrick hadn't-

No. She had to stop thinking about that. Back in her room now, Marie gritted her teeth and changed into more suitable evening attire. She set her dusty, street worn clothes aside and then stepped out of her small room and crept along the hallway. The big house was quiet again. There had been so many spells of silence of late, what with the queen's illness, that Marie was almost accustomed to it. But then she'd hear a quickly suppressed laugh from one of the maids and fondly she'd think of when the children played at games and mischief instead of murder.

Not that she could be certain or really had ground to suspect anymore but then why was her hand shaking so as she grasped the handle to Arianna's door?

"I've brought the wine you requested, and the glasses," Marie said though it was only a cover. They both knew why Marie had been sent for and it wasn't to toast the good health of the princess.

"Set them down over there," Arianna commanded, glancing up from her writing desk. Marie wondered who she could be writing to in her own hand, what letter was so important that she wouldn't entrust it to a clerk? She kept her mouth closed though and did as she was told. "Well?" Arianna prompted impatiently after an awkward moment of silence.

"He visited a man and nothing more," Marie said.

There was a slight flicker in Arianna's eyes that suggested eagerness and then it was gone. "What man?" she asked casually, her tone almost one of boredome.

"Just a man. He was injured, probably one of the soldiers..." Marie hesitated. She wondered if she should tell Arianna about Sandor's bruises but realised it was too late already. She'd hesitated so now she had to say something and Arianna might already have seen them for herself. He had sicne returned afterall. "Sandor has suffered a little bruising as well." And she'd let the princess make her own assumptions about that.

Arianna-

"Thank you, Marie, you may leave."

Marie swooped into a curtsey- the kind that Arianna liked, not the bobs that girls like Vivian gave her, but before she turned, Arianna asked, "Would you like some wine? For your trouble?"

Marie smiled and said, "Yes, that would be nice." She stepped forwards again and Arianna folded up her letter so that she wouldn't see it.

She watched Marie drink carefully, suddenly feeling a little closer to her. How long had Marie been attached to the family, how long had she been involved in their affairs? The Queen had told her never to show affection to servants, and she wasn't about to start now, but looking back, perhaps Marie hadn't gotten quite what she deserved.

There was a little wax left on the table from sealing the letter. Arianna picked it up and opened the window, letting the breeze take it, before tucking the letter itself into her bodice.

"I have to leave, for a short while." She considered telling Marie what it was she had to leave to deliver, but stayed quiet. It was her own affair, for now. "If you don't mind..." Arianna tried to say it as kindly as possible, but there was no way she was leaving someone as involved as Marie in her rooms alone.

"Of course not."

They left the room together. Arianna found the courier waiting, as promised, in the front yard.

"This is to go to Lady Popplewell," she said in just over a whisper. "Should you be intercepted, please, try to keep it safe at all costs." Asking the Lady to speak her case in the House when the time came to choose a new heir would not go down well with the court, especially if they knew the sum Arianna was offering in return. The courier nodded and kicked his horse.

Arianna returned to her rooms, sighing about Marie, the courier, everything else as she opened the doors.

She could have sworn there was something wrong as she entered, but it was getting dark and instead of dwelling on the dark thoughts that had been haunting her, she went to the table and lit the lamp. The door closed.

"Good evening, Princess Arianna. I believe you hired me?"

Arianna stepped backwards, her heart stopping, before her head going to the knife strapped to her leg, if she should need it, the wine full of sleeping potion in the secret cabinet, the letter opener, anything else that may assist her. "You must be the assassin. I have been meaning to speak to you," she said calmly.

"Really? It shall have to wait until I am paid, however."

"Paid? I was under the impression you had already been."

"Oh? I take it dear little sister didn't tell you of our arrangement, then. I was promised half in advance, with the other half upon completion." Rosalie! That idiot girl. Arianna tried to keep calm, watching the assassin as he moved towards the window. "I do hope it isn't a problem. It would be most... tragic if another member of the family were to pass away so suddenly..."

She took a deep breath. "It certainly would. Perhaps we could discuss this in a civilised manner, rather than you walking around the room as if you intend to kill me right now."

He seemed only slightly ataken back by her straightforwardness. "But of course," he said, regaining his composure. He drew out a chair and sat down lazily.

Arianna went to the store, finding the bottle of drugged wine. "It may surprise you," she said, "that I'm extremely upset over my brother's death."

"That would come as a surprise, considering you were the one that ordered it." He still had not moved. Good.

"Yes." She popped the cork and began pouring two goblets full. No doubt he would smell it, but there was always a chance. "I have decided that I should never make rash decisions. They always end badly. To your health," she said, passing him one, thanking earth and sky he hadn't killed her yet. She removed herself, backpedalling, to a safer distance, sitting at the other end of the table. She was not cornered, but shielded enough to get a grip on her knife without him seeing.

She pretended to take a sip.

"Rash decisions? So you regret it?"

"Yes, but I feel at least that I can blame it on my brother's murderer. And now here you are." She smiled sweetly.

"Here I am," he murmured back, his eyes never leaving her. She raised the goblet to her lips but did not take a sip. Her hands were shaking.

Garis

Garis played with the goblet a moment before bringing it up to take a sniff. Wine. Drugged. Two things he disliked. He put the goblet aside and stood up to pace; his injuries made sitting uncomfortable. His moving also had the added bonus of making Arianna even more uneasy. And he was about to make her even moreso.

"Really, princess. Such pretense is unbecoming." He veered closer and closer with each circle of the room. "And I have to wonder, just what it was you planned to accomplish by drugging me. A twisted sort of revenge, perhaps, on your brother's murderer?" Garis chuckled. "But what you fail to realize, princess, is that the murderer is actually you. I was merely the tool you used, just like a scythe or a needle or a knife."

"The difference being," said Arianna, her eyes never leaving the assassin as he roved around the room, growing more tense all the while even as she tried to hide it. "that a tool has no choice in the matter. You do."

"Oh?" Garis leaned down on his elbows on the table next to Arianna. "Just like you have a choice between paying me or dying."

There was a moment of absolute stillness just before the princess struck, and though he had been prepared for it, the assassin couldn't completely dodge the knife. It left a long, but thankfully shallow, score down his forearm which burned as he lunged forward to ensnare her in an embrace, even as he kissed her deeply to muffle her cries for help and pricked her with a poisoned needle.

Garis was feeling quite smug when a sound, barely audible except to well-trained ears, came from the direction of the open window. He dropped the breathlessly struggling princess and whirled around to face the intruder, only to receive a solid kick in his already-cracked ribs which left him gasping and reeling, clutching at his now-broken ribs. There was a quick prick on his arm before he was shoved to the floor and the lamp was moved to give the intruder a better look at the princess.

It was only when the nausea began to overtake him that Garis realized the prick must have been from a poisoned needle. Cursing quietly, the assassin crawled his painful way towards the window, only to be stopped by the intruder stepping on his back.

"Give me the antidote."

The man under her foot was breathing heavily, but not speaking. She dug her heel into the bottom of his ribcage, bringing on a choked groan. The poison was already taking effect. As was the poison he had given Ari.

She dug her foot into his back more. "I will say again. Give me the antidote."

He coughed and reached down into his belt. "This... this is it."

So the poison was continuing to work. Vivian took the vial and removed her foot from his back.

"Where..." He coughed, almost sounding like he was heaving. "Is my antidote?"

"You'll get it once your antidote works," Vivian snapped back.

She went up to the princess and kelt beside her, lifting her chin so the liquid would run down her throat. Arianna's muscles were beginning to lock from the effects of the poison. It should just be a matter of time before the antidote kicked in...

Vivian waited in tense silence, eyes and ears trained to any change in the princess' condition. Time was passing too slowly, but the antidote should have begun working almost instantly. A shiver went down Arianna's body. The poison was still working.

Bastard! Vivian spun to look at where the man had been, but he had escaped out the window. She followed, more oaths going through her head. He would give her the real antidote this time.

Garis

Garis ran faster than he had ever run before, even though his ribs were broken and he could barely see straight. He could feel the poison working, and as he lurched to his room, not so far gone that he threw caution entirely to the wind, he prayed that he had the antidote somewhere.

He fell through the window and onto the hard floor, gasping and coughing and hoping the wetness in his throat wasn't blood. He staggered over to his dresser and tipped out all the drawers, rummaged through the clothes for various vials of antidote and poison, and tried to place his symptoms. Nausea was too common a symptom to be helpful; the ague narrowed things down a little; but the pain in his belly, he had never experienced its like before. He didn't know if he had an antidote for this particular poison. But he had to try. He didn't want to die. Not now. Not like this.

And so Garis downed three of the most likely antidotes in turn as they each failed to work. Even as his vision grew dimmer and dimmer, and his limbs clumsier and clumsier, he tried to open the fourth vial. The cork came out and he lifted the vial to his lips, only to have it fall from numb fingers and spill its contents all over the strewn clothes. He went on all fours as he scrabbled for another vial, but his arms gave out beneath him and he fell as the world reeled sickeningly around him.

And his vision grew dark.

Sandor
He froze for a second, taken completely off-guard by the sudden not-quite-but-practically-a-hug, and tried not to tense too obviously when she burst into tears with her head still pressed against him. What to do—? He wasn’t the one who usually dealt with this. Where was Derrick when you needed him?

Gingerly, he returned the embrace, not quite sure what else to do with himself. It seemed to work, more or less, as she slowly subsided into quiet sobs then tiny sniffles. He’d somehow started a tiny, broken stream of empty reassurances that seemed to do their part.

She wasn’t the only one worried, and in a way it was good to know at least one person here trusted him enough for this. “Everything will be fine.” He hoped; as fine as things could be with their brother gone, anyway. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.” Please don’t let that be a lie. “You know you can come to me anytime, don’t you?” As weak as that sounded to him (because it wasn’t like Derrick had had time to do anything but scream, let alone come for help), it reassured her enough to pull away from him, just enough to look at him from a more convenient angle.

Then her eyes welled up again, and he gently extricated himself from her arms. Time for retreat. “I need to go deal with security, alright?” You’re the worst person at making excuses in the world, Sandor. “Be careful. And if you need anything…”

She nodded weakly, obviously wanting him to stay longer. He was such a coward. Leaving was almost as difficult as staying. Almost.

But thoughts of Derrick brought Garis back to mind. Hopefully the assassin was awake now. Sandor needed to apologize, and to know what exactly was going on before things went to hell.

At least that was the idea. Apparently the world had other ideas. And hated him, if the sight that greeted him was anything to go by. Looked fine at first, of course, until he opened the door. Then it was just a tad too reminiscent of the state Derrick’s rooms had been in the day before, albeit even more of a disaster. The drawers looked like they’d been opened in all haste, like Garis had been digging for something—and the man himself was lying in a heap on a messy pile of clothes, just still enough that for a moment Sandor’s heart leapt in his throat.

At least this time he had someone to direct his ire on. He glared at the other person in the room; unknown, not seen around the castle before, and had absolutely no business being here, which screamed "danger" to every instinct. His hand was already dropping for his sword when she spoke, eyeing him with an air he couldn't quite decipher just yet, busy as he was keeping an eye of his own on Garis.

"If you want him alive, you'll stop right there."

Well, so much for venting. A quick look at the situation yielded less than encouraging observations. She was closer to Garis than he was; might be a bluff, but risking it presented too much danger and not enough opportunies. And if she was here, it was quite reasonable to assume she was the one responsible.

Time to see what the hell was going on, and hope whoever was up there got tired of picking on him. "What do you want?" And, perhaps a little more importantly, "What did you do to him?"

If the idiot died on him before they'd had Words, Sandor was going to have his hide.

Vivian

Vivian heard glass, and a heavy weight she could only assume was a person, hit the floor. She jumped into the open window to find the man she'd been looking for.

Working quickly, she gave him the antidote, hoping anything he'd taken wouldn't cancel out the effects. She took a sniff of the concoctions in the room. They shouldn't.

The man stirred, shakily pushing himself up. Vivian put her hand on his shoulder to prevent him from going farther. He looked up as quickly as he could, eyes falling on her face. They widened as much as they could, and slowly went from her torso back up to her face.

"What lovely lady has given me the antidote?"

Vivian pulled out a second needle. "The one who gave you the poison."

"Dangerous as well as beautiful," the man continued. "A fair damsel indeed."

She put the edge of the pin against his neck. "If you want to live, you tell me the proper antidote to Arianna's poison."

He swallowed. "What makes you so sure... so sure that the antidote won't..."

Vivian smiled as the antidote began to wear off. "Antidotes begin working quickly. Her symptoms never stopped."

The man began crumpling down again, hands fumbling down to his belt. Vivian gave him a little more of the antidote to steady his movements. He reached in and pulled out a small vial. She hoped it would be enough by this point.

"This," he gasped, "is it."

Vivian dragged the poison-coated needle point along his neck. "You're sure?"

He nodded. Vivian smiled before sinking the needle in him again. "For your sake I hope it is."

The man began shuddering before nodding again. She slipped out of the window and ran as quickly as she could to Arianna's rooms. By the time she got there the princess was unconscious. Vivian didn't waste time getting the antidote into her.

Within a few moments, the princess showed signs of waking up. In two minutes, her eyes were open, but Vivian could tell the woman was weak.

"Vivian? You..?"

Vivian put a finger to Arianna's lips. "Hush, princess. I'll be back momentarily."

She gave the princess a bit more of the antidote before heading back to the other assassin's rooms. The question now pressing on her mind was if he should live or die. If he lived, she would have another assassin, one most likely more connected, indebted to her. But she would also have to watch he never tried to kill her in return. If he died, she wouldn't have the possibility of accessing anything he could provide her yet.

Inside the room, she went to first make sure he wasn't dead. At the sign of a pulse, albetit weak, she reached into her belt purse. For another dose of poison or the antidote she had yet to decide.

Vivian jumped back from him when she heard the door open. A man she recognized as the starter of the fight at the Dancer walked in. He quickly glanced around the room before reaching for his sword. Vivian continued looking at him with an air of contempt.

"If you want him alive, you'll stop right there."

He paused, giving her a chance to look him over more. He was showing signs of protection towards the man now unconscious on the floor.

"What do you want?" he asked. "What did you do to him?"

Vivian smirked. "He's about to die from two doses of poison if you don't let me close."

The man backed away, fear beginning to enter his eyes. "If you only get close to kill him..."

Vivian raised her hand. "I won't." Not while you're around, at least, she added mentally.

Realizing he had no choice but to let her work, he backed away and let go of his sword. She went beside the assassin and turned him over, lifting his shoulders up so he could get the full antidote. The other watched her every move. Vivian just hoped the assassin wasn't too far gone so her head could stay on her shoulders.

She backed away, somewhat satisfied that this man wasn't about to attack her should she have lied about the antidote. Smart man. And if he knew the assassin, he might be of use.

"Tell me," she said casually, taking one of her poisoned pins and twirling it in her fingers. "What role do you have in the palace?" A smile crossed her lips. "And why should I keep you alive?"

Arianna-

Coughing and spluttering, she watched Vivian leave the room. Maybe then, hiring the girl would be a good idea- if she could save Arianna's life without even being paid. That said, Arianna's mother had spent years helping her build up a resistance to poison. She wondered what her mother would say to what was now going on in the palace.

And that man! He had- he had-

Well, it just wasn't worth mentioning. But Arianna was going to find him, and she was going to have words with him.

And then, of course, she would execute him. For killing Prince Derrick. For trying to kill her. For being so rude and totally irreverent. It probably deserved a little torture before death as well.

But for now... Rosalie. That little two-faced, double-crossing traitorous brat. She was going to pay, and she was going to pay hard.

Arianna picked herself up and looked around the mess in her rooms. She didn't remember knocking an ink pot over, yet there it was, slowly dripping off her writing desk onto the floor. Perfect. Just what she needed on top of everything else.

She rang the bell for a maid to come and clean it up, then very purposefully shut the window. That was a mistake in itself, how stupid could she be? Then she went to her wardrobe and changed her dress, this one was spoilt and creased. Coughing a little, she replaited her hair.

And then she went to find her sister.

Sandor
Since apparently leaving an unconscious Garis unsupervised resulted in serious death threats, Sandor was never, ever letting him out of his sight again, no matter how much he whined and complained about it.

Now, to answer or not? Part of him urged him to stop being so passive and just go for the throat—it wasn’t the nicest way to get rid of problems, but it certainly felt good.

Thankfully (or not) the more collected, rational part of his brain reined the other in. For all he knew that antidote she’d given Garis wasn’t the good one. Or there hadn't been enough. And she was armed, with something that would be infinitely more practical than a sword in close quarters, was probably faster than he was, and didn’t have anyone to protect.

Sandor knew when to back down. Revenge could only be taken if you were alive, and heroics got you killed.

“I’m his superior.” A curt nod in Garis’ direction. “In charge of the castle’s garrison.” A pause, where he eyed her and weighed his options. “And, incidentally, of posting security and organizing guard rotations.” In for a penny, in for a pound. He wanted her out, and if that meant giving her something she could use, then fine. Playing the hero at this point was idiotic, and, all things considered, better the devil you know: having however faint of an idea of this new assassin’s movements through the castle was worth swallowing his pride for.

Not to mention that once he was sure Garis had recovered (or if he didn’t at all, which was an option he didn’t want to think about but had to take into account as well), a little switching up of the guard schedule could always be arranged.

If a certain interloper happened to be found during the process, well. Sandor wasn’t going to complain much.

In the meanwhile, she may have stepped away from Garis a bit, but she was still a bit too close for his taste, and there was only so much he was okay with letting pass. His friend’s safety was not one of those things. Not to mention he’d never really gotten the hang of rolling over. “Now that you know what you wanted, how about you back off.”

Vivian

Vivian raised her hands, pin still between her fingers, and backed away to the window. She was at least seven steps away from the assassin now, while the man was only three at most. He would be able to intercept her now.

"I'm just wondering if you know of this man's... other, activities. If he's in the military."

The man in front of her paused. "What is it to you?"

Vivian realized she was pushing her luck if she continued talking. It seemed the person in front of her was friends with the person on the floor, and he was nearly blinded by rage already.

She still couldn't help but smile. "You might want to ask him, then, what he was doing before I came along."

He continued to just gape at her, and Vivian recognized the look. He was wondering if she was worth the kill.

"What's your name?" she asked smoothly. "In case I ever need to find you again."

His harsh gaze turned into a glare, jaw tensing. "Sandor."

Vivian continued smiling, despite the curt tone he'd said it in. "Thank you, Sandor."

Before he could say anything else, she slipped out the window to head back to Arianna's rooms. Time to see about getting hired.

Marie

It hadn't been a good day. Then again I didn't seem to have many of those lately. But still. It didn't explain why I was crouched by my bed - a bed? - unable to move for the pain welling in my gut and of course sobbing my heart out. What else would I be doing when there was work to do and mysteries to occupy myself with? I'd been there so long that I didn't even know what time it was and I was only numbly aware of having missed at least one knock on my door. A door. Which was locked. Maids didn't even have locks on their doors which was what led me to believe I wasn't in my own room.

So where had I taken myself? As some clear thoughts were starting to reach through, I looked around and let out a soft yelp. Derrick's room. Oh my! Whatever was I thinking, locking myself up in the prince's room and- and who would be knocking on the door? That was most puzzling of all. I took some deep breaths and wiped my eyes on my skirts. Oh how untidy I must look! I ventured that I ought to climb to my feet and go see who was at the door - the knocking had resumed again you see. But oh! I couldn't move, it hurt so much, it-

Was all in my head. And what a silly girl I was. No, get up. And so I did, shakily climbing to my feet and stumbling to the mirror. Which was broken. I'd forgotten that and stared in dismay at the half shattered object, my reflection looking all the worse for that. Glass crunched under my soft shoes and I let out a yelp, twirling backwards as some pierced through. The knocking came again. I frowned at my wretched self. Pull yourself together girl! I pulled the glass from my shoe and gave it a wide birth, smoothed my dress and re-tied my hair back. Then I decided I would say I had come to tidy the room. That was it. It shouldn't be in such a disgrace anyway, whoever had left it in this state? Had nobody thought to order it fixed up?

There was the door. I unlocked it and stepped out, forcing a soft smile onto my face. I decided to let them speak first as I really had nothing to say that wasn't excuses or apologies.