I winced at the voice; there was no mistaking that silky trill. Fight or flight mechanism began to kick in - did I take my chances and sprint the last ten yards or so? Perhaps I could claim I had a gutter-dwelling twin, although even that would be detrimental to my reputation. "I must say I am suprised to see you looking like this my dear Comte... But it is nice to have you back, at least I assume your staying because no one with a title like yours would return looking like that for a flying visit." she winked.

"Baroness Mercy Flight," I beamed. My last resort was to try on the ole charm; maybe
the woman would be so stunned by my adoration, I'd have the chance to make a swift getaway. The urgent news I bore laid heavy at the back of my mind. That could wait until I had made myself presentable, I prioritised, but not much longer.

"Now how have you been in the time since you left us?", asked Mercy, eyeing my dirty attire.
"Busy," I replied "Ah, just moments ago I stood outside the palace when a putrid-looking theif attacked me. I suppose he was after my riches, although I never carry those on my person. It took but a few moments to overcome the scoundrel with my manly strenghth, but he appears to have left his traces of" - I sniffed a nasty patch of green - "Cave slime on my person." I fidgetted anxiously. Now was not the time for hold ups. But I couldn't disappear in a cloud of smoke without ensuring my white lie had been swallowed and digested, else the whole court may think me a sewer-dwelling idiot.
"But you, Madame, look even more radiant with every day. I do hope all's well?"

Mercy clicked her teeth together, "hmm well aslong as you are alright and safe now," she glanced him up down, she supposed it was plausible... But Mercy had other things on her mind she smiled at Felix.

"I myself am good my dear man, much better than the banished Duchess, and the rather ill Princess or of course her husband, Prince Octavien who must be going out of his mind with grief..."

Mercy paused for effect to allow these bits and pieces to slip into his mind, he may have heard about Marie, but that wasn't big news in comparrison, the details of the marriage between Octavien and the Princess would of course be common knowledge, and even if the reason wasn't she would not divulge that, the Queen had trusted her with that one. His brothers encounter with the Princess may be known to him but it had been hushed so again she would not approach the subject, however she felt she had given him some news in the way of Adalita's illness which would not have travelled far beyond the Palace gardens.

Mercy wanted to pass on the information, just so the newly returned Comte would realise just who really ruled this Court.

((Shenan sorry if isabella takes offence to that one and Haylifer feel free to shoot Mercy down by telling her it's startilingly old news ))

*Edit*((Thanks Atropa, it's nice to know someone is paying attention to what I type... even if it isn't me :P))

"I myself am good my dear man, much better than the banished Duchess, and the rather ill Princess or of course her husband, Prince Octavien who must be going out of his mind with grief..." said Mercy.

I raised an eyebrow, taking each new fact one at a time. Banished Duchess? Who? What for? I made a note to enquire about this piece of gossip at a later date, but it was the second part of the statement that sparked some intrigue. Or rather, panic. I'd heard of Princess Adalita's union with Octavien on the grapevine whilst on my hiatus, plus a number of other interesting rumours regarding her, but the word "rather ill" struck out like a fist. That fist must have knocked some sense back into me, for I remembered why I had risked life and limb rushing back to the Palace and my mission was not yet complete.

"Octavien's marriage?" I said, my voice a bit too high-pitched to be innocuous. "Yes, how unfortunate for him to be committed to wedlock so young. My dear Baroness, I'm afraid I really must fly now. I have some minor heroics to take care of." I bowed hastily, then disappeared into my suite. I had little time to lose, and an important job to finish. I had to see Queen Isabella as soon as possible; thankfully my manservant was faithfully waiting inside my chamber.

"Pierre, please get word to the Queen that I have returned and consequently must rendezvous with her urgently. Tell her it's possibly an emergency. And for God's sake, stand up a little straighter when you do so, you give the impression of a crooked charlatan."

I waved one hand at him impatiently as he scurried off, then collapsed down into a chair. The only reason I had not fired that peasant Pierre after all these years was his speed and efficiency at moving through the palace. In all other respects, he was a useless imbecile. Hopefully today his message would reach Her Majesty in time. I ran one hand impatiently through my hair, only to find it thick with dust and all other manner of horrors. Mon Dieu, I'd completely forgotten about my appearance! There was hardly time to bathe properly, but a change of clothes was vital.

I then found it proved impossible to concentrate on my actions, so I headed into the washroom, filling the basin with icy water and dunking my head into it. I recoiled a little as I felt the cold freeze my brain. That seemed to refresh my way of thinking, at least. Scrubbing at the grime on my skin and hair, thoughts span dizzily around my head. Adalita was already sick, which had serious implications. The worst news I'd heard today, perhaps. I tried to piece together what I already knew, drawing up conclusions and planning how I could present things. Although, if I took the position of a deluded optimist, this news could be taken as a positive. Yes, it was excellent news, because it meant that there was still time to undo things. I grinned despite myself; I hadn't failed yet. Then I noticed that my undershirt had been put on the wrong way, and cursed.

Finally, I managed to get myself correctly attired, and began to pace the room in apprehension of Pierre's return, muttering idle threats to the absent servant in order to somehow paranormally speed his journey. That blasted peasant, what's taking him so long? I could have sought out Isabella myself, and taken less time. Even if it did bear the risk of decapitation, the risks could be outweighed by the importance of the tale I had to tell.

(( Pierre has apparently been sat waiting in Felix's suite for months now, poor guy. Did they have basins back in 17th century France? Bleh. Rambly post and sorry for abandoning Mercy so rudely, Fayre Felix just remembered he's a man on a mission.))

((Oh i shall forgive him ... until he does something else wrong that is :P))

((OOC: Swirly, since it’s been more than 24 hours, I’m going to assume Princess Lillian is ready to move on. Fay – Well, if she has to share the title with someone, I suppose Mercy isn’t her last choice. ))

Once Princess Lillian had expressed her gratitude, Isabella was once again alone in her suite. Well, as much alone as a queen could expect to get during the day as the usual servants still milled about. Isabella lowered herself onto an armless chair, taking a few minutes to simply breathe. So much had already gone on this day and it had just begun! So many things swirled around in her mind, she felt as if she were about to drown.

To begin there was Adalita's sudden illness. It had come on so quickly, it was really quite a shock. Thankfully the Palace had been searched, and there didn’t seem to be a soul that donned the same illness. Edouard was in a foul mood, which could be understood. But still, it didn’t make things any easier on the rest of the people that shared the upper floor. Servants were walking on eggshells, and Isabella… Well, she’d hate to come across as cold and cruel, but she had other matters on her mind.

Matters that involved two very different men, for two very different reasons. Marquess Federico Berini, the thought of the man’s name alone brought a disgusted look upon her fair face. The man proved to be an idiot, a brute and perhaps a loon. She had half expected him to visit her late in the night, or this morning. No doubt he would wish to give her one more chance to earn his silence. Perhaps the servants had done their job at keeping the man off the second floor entirely. Isabella hoped so, as the last thing she needed was him going to the King. Though most his verbal assaults were aimed at Isabella, he had only made one threat. A threat aimed at Octavien.

She worried about him. Though last night his words had crushed her spirit, she just couldn’t doubt that what she thought they had just begun to share had been true. He couldn’t fake that look in his eyes all the time. When she had begun to open herself to him the night in his Suite, she saw it, she felt it. He would send for her once he was ready to talk. She just had to be patient. She hoped.

As she had come to that conclusion a servant approached her. “Your Majesty, we have just received a request for your presence…” Isabella’s eyes were about to grow wide at those words, words she had been longing to hear. “… from Comte Felix Delarue Peitou-Charentes.”

“What?” the word had escaped her mouth before she could even realize how improper it was. Certainly she had heard the young lady wrong. “Are you certain it was Comte Charentes?”

“Yes your Majesty, that is what his servant had said.” The girl answered meekly.

Isabella came to her feet quickly. Could it be? Her beloved Comte had returned? He had been gone for what seemed to be ages, she had gone on with her life without his humorous antics. She had figured he was gone for good.

“What word shall I send Your Majesty?” the young girl queried cautiously.

Isabella ceased her pacing, waving her hand to the girl to get going. “Yes, of course I will see him. Send word that he is most lucky indeed, as I can meet with him in my Salon.” As the girl hurried to answer the request, Isabella continued to pace lost in thought of what could have possibly brought Felix back to the Palace, but more importantly, why had he left to begin with.

((OOC: Okay Hay… Felix can come up. But, I warn you, Isabella is going to make him wait for her a little while. ))

The upper floor hallway had been peacefully at rest, ever since Marquess Berini's arrival to the Prince's suite. Half an hour had passed since then, and only a few times had there been the faint sound of footsteps echoing between the sturdy but exquisite walls as servants went on with their daily chores. All was quiet, and almost eerily so. The news of Adalita's poor health hung like a dark cloud of worry over the entire upper floor, it clung to the faces of the servants that occasionally drifted up and down the grand staircase and in and out of the suites. It was almost as though everyone was already in mourning, even though no further word had been issued regarding her state.
But indeed... Those who had seen her were painfully aware that there did not seem to be much hope of a full and speedy recovery. Or even a slow one...

Yet another young servant girl had just quietly left Adalita's suite, when all of a sudden, there was a loud crash coming from behind the doors to the suite right across the hall - the newly crowned Prince Octavien's suite. The muffled sound of raised voices defied the thickness of the wood, and moments later, the silence shattered completely as Gilles burst through the doors.

"Help!" he cried in a voice ragged with horror and desperation. "Murder! Murder!"

His wild eyes locked on the terrified girl who seemed to have frozen to the spot the moment the doors had flung open, and was now clasping the tray she was carrying so tightly that the color of her fingers was draining so quickly, it was only outdone by the rosey hue of her cheeks.

"What are you waiting for, you stupid girl?!" Gilles yelled at her. "Go get help, the Marquess is murdering the Prince!"

Though his cries had already attracted the attention of everyone on the floor - and everyone nearby the staircase under it as well - and they all came swarming into the upper hallway. Some realized what was happening faster than others, confusion and deafening chatter filling the air before another desperate outcry from Gilles forced them to take action. As an army of servants, courtiers and guards stormed into the Prince's suite, they saw Octavien slumping to the floor with his back against the wall, his left hand covered in blood and just dropping from a gushing cut on his right shoulder. The Marquess a few yards away, by the table and a chair that had been knocked over, just staggering to his feet to the soft, clanging noise of a bloody dagger slipping out of his grasp and hitting the floor.

"Seize him!" Gilles roared, pointing accusingly at the Marquess. "He tried to murder the Prince!"

Marquess Berini's eyes widened as he saw several burly guards come towards him, looking far less pleasant than they had the night before, and he drew a quick breath as if about to protest. He could do no more, as the very next moment he was grabbed and quickly overpowered, rendered unable to move a muscle in the firm grip of the guards.

In the meantime, Gilles had rushed to Octavien's side, grabbing the first thing he could find in the process - a small cloth on a nearby table - to try and stop the bleeding. With shakey hands he tried to press it against the wound, but found himself to be dismissed by the Prince himself, who for obvious reasons seemed determined to act strong and calmly collected, and keep his dignity infront of the large, previously horror-stricken and now increasingly agitated audience that had gathered in and around the doorway.

"Take him to the scaffold!" someone in the noisy crowd shouted; a voice that was soon joined by others.

As was to be expected, the people called for immediate retribution, for justice to be done. No trial was needed, for they had all seen it with their own eyes; an attempt had been made to take the life of their very Prince. Justice should come on swift wings.
But as the guards started dragging the Marquess out of the suite, there was another call.

"Wait!"

With the help of Gilles, Octavien had come to his feet once again, and now stood straight and majestic, speaking with a firmness in his voice that demanded the attention of everyone. Even with the blood that soiled his arm and hands, and keeping the bloody cloth pressed tightly against the wound, he managed to look dignified and regal. A bit disheveled perhaps, with ashen curls coming loose from the velvet ribbon that had tied them back, and clothes that needed straightening, but still every inch a Prince.

"He shall not be sent to the scaffold", he continued, now in a lower voice as the chatter had ceased, but still just as firm. "A man so consumed by jealousy and hatred is not the master of his actions."

As he spoke, his eyes wandered from the crowd to settle on the Marquess, and it was obvious that while he himself may want nothing more than to have the man's head, he would not make himself guilty of the same crime and let his emotions run away with him.

"Take him to the dungeons", he ordered the guards instead, "so that he may calm down, and come to his senses. Then we shall decide his fate."

Then his gaze returned to the Marquess once again, and he motioned a signal for the eager guards to wait yet a few seconds before dragging their prisoner off to his new dark and damp lodging. Apparently, the Prince had something he wanted to say to the man. He approached, and his eyes, although a pale blue, pierced Marquess Berini's with an inner darkness that left him well aware that while his life might have been spared for now, it could come to be the subject of change, should he give the Prince even the tiniest reason.

"Marquess Berini", he said in a voice that had dropped so low only the Marquess and the guards around him could hear. "Know, that from now on, you are alive only because I allow it."

And with that, he took a step back and motioned for the guards to take the prisoner away, not giving him a chance to retort. For his own good, of course.
The still growing crowd parted, much like the Red Sea, allowing the guards to pass on their way down to the dungeons. Some trickled after them, to watch the prisoner and listen to his wild protests, while others stayed to gossip and exchange every minute detail of what they had heard and seen, and others yet stayed to study the Prince, perhaps hoping he would collapse and bring even more drama to the story, or perhaps, although doubtful, to make sure he was alright.
Octavien, however, soon proved to be a most uncooperative participant, as he ordered his servants to usher everyone out of his suite, and leave him to recover in peace.

The morning finally came, and Roseline was rudely aroused from the comfort of her bed by the heavy velvet curtains that normally blocked out the unwanted light, being pulled apart. Roseline’s eyes fluttered for a moment at the light appearing behind her lids, and she finally opened them fully to see Louisa, her maid standing innocently by her bed. With a chirpy ‘good morning’ Louisa rushed off, happy that Roseline was actually up at the right time.

Morning’s used to be something that Roseline would look forward to, a new start but recently have become less desired by her tired mind which simply wished to stay in bed. With a small sigh, Roseline lifted her still tired body out of the warm sheets reluctantly, taking her time to fully wake herself until she could put it off no longer in fear of missing the morning announcements, the one thing that did cause Roseline to force herself up.

A short time later, her fair hair had been fastened up and her bedclothes had been replaced by a day dress. Finally, she made the short walk towards the Grand Salon, thinking of other things than the announcements. The sky was overcast, yet again, which forced already bored courtiers into the confines of the Palace walls.


--


At last, Roseline made her way out of the crowded Salon and into the crowded corridor directly outside of it. Eventually, Roseline had made her way away from the Salon and the corridor outside of it. She would have gone outside, like she did when the weather was warm enough, if it wasn’t for the threat of rain hanging over the Palace.

Away from the crowds, Roseline began walking along the deserted hallways of the rest of the Palace, finding her thoughts running away from her. Walking was always a good time to allow your thoughts to run away with you, even better when you could not get lost. A conclusion Roseline had come up with some time ago, after an unfortunate walk in the forests surrounding the Palace. Yes, even if she would prefer to be outdoors, at least she wouldn’t have to worry about getting lost inside, as she had to do out.

Her thoughts finally landed on the Princess. Everyone in the Palace, even the whole Kingdom was worried for her health. No one thought for one second that she would not make a fast, full recovery but it always did shock the Kingdom when a member of the Royal Family became ill. The poor girl had only just said her wedding vows, and now was confined to her Chambers, to hopefully rest up and come back to her duties as soon as possible. Yet again though, Roseline found herself worrying about the Princess’ new husband, Octavien. What an awful situation that he was in now. His new wife down with illness, while he tried to come to terms with the fact that he now was a married man, a married man to the Princess no less. Her thoughts were everywhere this morning. On wanting to congratulate Baroness Flight… on thinking of all the new blood that will come into Court any given date, and of course the Princess and her new husband.

Finding herself come round in a full Circle, Roseline passed the Grand Salon again, yet this time it was much less crowded, occasional groups of courtiers milling about at the sides while others walked briskly past, with people to see and places to be. She had just walked past the ornate staircase leading up to the top floor, when she heard the shout.

"Help!" Came a male’s voice from the floor above, causing every courtier on the floor below to stop, some even rushing up the stairs before he had finished the word. "Murder! Murder!"

Roseline suppressed a gasp. Surely someone wouldn’t joke about such a serious matter? No, the voice sounded completely serious, but her mind quickly moved onto the prospect of who it was that was in trouble. The Princess? The Queen or King? Octavien? Any of them could be in grave danger right this moment. Roseline stopped dead for a second, only to come back to her senses as a Comte of some sort barged past her to have his moment in glory, and to help whoever was in trouble.

Roseline looked up the grand staircase, which was already packed, many people obviously not all being able to fit onto the top floor. She moved towards it, taking her place on one of the steps near the bottom, not wanting to turn away and be seen as someone who would not protect her Royal Family.

The sound of voices grew, the news of what had happened running down the mass of courtiers trying to get as close as possible to the drama. ‘The Prince. It was the Prince!’ Someone told the courtier next to her, before the pair dissolved into quick, quiet French.

“Seize him” The same deep male voice came, booming down the stairs. "He tried to murder the Prince!" Came the confirmation that everyone waiting needed before a loud chatter drifted up from the crowd. Roseline simply tried to listen, she wasn’t close enough to see what was happening but it was easy to get the picture as the news spread through the mass like wildfire.

Someone close by shouted to take him to the scaffold, which sent another burst of chatter into the air, but Octavien’s voice, almost drowned out by the insistent chitter-chatter of the courtiers, came firmly to give the guards some order.

Then, everything happened quickly, Roseline found herself being pushed backwards against the banister as the rest of the courtiers moved back to make way for the culprit, who was now being restrained by two muscular guards and just as quickly as it had appeared the crowd dispersed into nothing, only a couple of clusters left talking in this corridor, though Roseline doubted that there weren’t others talking elsewhere, about the drama that had just happened.

Roseline seemed to understand what had happened all at once, realising that she was stood, no longer being pushed back against the banisters and looked up the beautiful staircase to see Octavien’s door being firmly shut.

With a worried nibble at her bottom lip, Roseline took the couple of steps back down to the main floor slowly and stopped at a small window in the hallway. Her eyes drifted across the gorgeous gardens as she found her attention once again being drawn away from her.


((Approachable =]))

{{Check out this nerd...No, really. My formerly decidely gone character has returned! Haha, what great news! I think...}}

{{Bah humbug...double post!}}

Name: Annelise De L'orrine

Age: 24

Title: Duchess

Personality: Annelise has recently returned to the court and is very happy to see her home once more! She will enjoy her usual activties, which include jests and many other things.

96.. 97.. 98..
I counted each click of the heel as I paced the floor, trying to keep my calm and attractive head on. With a surge of impatience, I kicked out at a copper bedwarming pan left lying around by those inefficent wenches. The thing sprung open with a clatter, emptying its sooty contents everywhere. Mocking me, damn it! Even my bedwarmer was mocking me.. And Pierre, he was the biggest mocker of them all. Where in God's name was the greasy charlatan? If he didn't return soon, I would have to take action and go find him myself. Which is precisely what I did; readying myself, I stormed through the door with such force that I knocked an equally focused Pierre to the floor.

"Pierre?" I blinked, as he lay sprawled across the floor and spoke in a somewhat irritated tone.

"The Queen permits you to speak with her, in her Salon." he said, propping himself up with his arms.

"What are you sitting down for? Chop chop, man! Call the chambermaid too when you get chance, I think you must have knocked the warming pan over on your way out last time." He scurried to his feet and back where duty called like a loyal little rat. Disregarding his impertinence, I hurried along the corridors to the staircase, passing a mirror along the way. Noticing my hair was being it's usual rebellious self, I reasoned that a few minutes wouldn't hurt anyone and set about making it at least slightly tidy. There... Felix, you dashing young man. How do you keep the ladies off you? I winked briefly to my reflection before setting off again. Damn these distractions, I needed to focus! Focus on what I was meant to be doing. And it didn't help that coming the opposite direction down the stairs was a pretty young lady who was undoubtedly a new face around court. Hold your tongue, man. Keep straight ahead.

"Why hello there beautiful, I don't believe we've met?" Curse my inability to keep quiet. I flashed her a winning smile. "Felix Delarue Peitou-Charentes, Comte de Cognac, at your service my lady. And who have I the pleasure of meeting?"

"Comtesse Fleur Baisez-Corazón," she replied, fanning herself. Undoubtedly I'd also be fanning myself if I were so hot.

"I do believe you're a new face around court, Comtesse?" I said, waggling my eyebrows knowingly. She nodded. "Then it would only be proper for me to offer you a tour of the divine attractions of this palace." My conscience immediately chastised me for the suggestion, giving me a mental slap around the ears. The Queen would be furious with me for making an appointment and then becoming sidetracked; if she wasn't already so, for my disappearing in the first place. And then when she realised I had such vital news.. I paled noticably.

"Good Lord, is that the time?" I squawked, pretending to notice some invisible clock. "My lady, I think I possibly have an urgent appointment elsewhere. Consider me in your debt; I owe you that tour." I winked, bowed quickly, then again attempted my ascent of the staircase.

Finally I reached the top of the stairs, swinging around the corner and nearly crashing through the doorway to Her Majesty's salon in hastiness. Righting my balance, I gave the wood three smart taps and waited for that pretty servant girl (whom I'd got to know rather well) to see me in.

((littlesunshine123xx: Let me know if you didn't want Fleur used a little bit there I'll change it. Felix demanded further distractions. I possibly think he's purposefully looking for them. Oh and big yay! No more exams So surely I have no excuses for crappy RP posts like this, but yoink, I've promised myself no thinking tonight. I'm exhausted.))

((OOC: Hay- lol As soon as I saw littlesunshine’s app… I knew Felix would find a way to get to know her!))

Isabella had just commenced her steady, rhythmic pacing pondering the most intelligent way to question Comte Felix. Yes, he had been her closest ally in the kingdom, but he had been gone. She needed to tread with great caution till she established that his motives and intentions had not changed during his absence.

It was not long before the same servant that had forwarded the Comte’s request returned announcing that he now waited for her in her Salon. “Thank you.” Isabella responded. “I shall arrive, when I arrive.” Isabella had decided to make the poor man sweat a little. She had been excited to hear he had returned, but there was no reason for him to know that. If the man thought that perhaps she did not regard him as highly as she once did, he’d be easier to read. It saddened her that she now was treating him as such, but, when you held the position that she did, you had to be careful.

After fifteen minutes had passed Isabella slowly left her suite and sauntered to her Salon. As the doors were opened, she immediately spotted him standing by the fine selection of wine that sat in the corner of the room. She found it quite humorous, but hid the fact very well. He turned around suddenly, as if he were a kid that had been caught in a candy store. “Why, Comte” she began. “Which have you missed more during your absence, your Queen, or her beverages?” Isabella’s brow was quirked in an accusatory way.

As soon as he answered her question a sound penetrated the walls of her salon. Isabella’s head turned in instinct to see what had interrupted her turn to speak. Thanks to the sturdy construction of the Palace, the sound had seeped through as a muffle, but the urgency in the voice managed to pierce through when the volume had not. Again, another yell had been given in the halls of the upper floor. Isabella’s entire body turned in its direction, yet she hadn’t moved towards the door yet. With silence in the room, and her ears intently listening, she thought she deciphered a few words… Marquess? Murder? Prince!?!

With that Isabella no longer waited in curiosity, instead she fled in fear. Moving as swiftly as her large dress allowed her, she flung the salon door open, much as it had been thrown open the night before. She stepped into the hall which had become crowded with onlookers. It seemed people crawled out from the cracks of the Palace, never had she seen so many servants and nobles standing side by side in a crowd. Her head turned to the direction of the west wing. Again, she heard the same voice cry out.

“Seize him!” the voice roared.

I know that voice.

“He tried to murder the Prince!”

“Giles.” The word had seeped out as a whisper between her lips automatically. She knew his voice, as she had heard it when he escorted her safely to her suite after the night she had spent with his master. The next name from her lips came naturally, not hushed as the first had been. “Octavien!”

She fought to push her way through the crowd that had gathered. “Take him to the scaffold!” someone cried out, which was only the first in what soon became a deafening chant calling for the death of the Marquess.

Isabella’s face was deathly pale even for her fair skin. She knew the Marquess to be many things, but never did she think he would attempt to murder Octavien. He was a lowlife, the sort of scum that reveled in playing dirty. Going to the King with his suspicions was right up his ally. She didn’t think his jealousy would lead him to make an attempt on the Prince’s life. If he were to kill anyone, she thought surely it would have been her life he’d want. The thought of Octavien being killed because of her was too much to bear. She just had to get to him, she had to find out if Federico had succeeded. Was that his goal to begin with? If he could no longer have her, she would have no one?

“Let me through!” she demanded, wishing the fools would just part, allowing her to pass through. As she determined she’d force everyone aside, she suddenly felt someone stopping her, pulling her back. Isabella turned, ready to banish whoever it was that was stopping her from being by Octavien’s side.

((OOC: The person who pulls her back, knows who he is. So, sorry, not approachable at this moment. ))

((Mercy and I made a descision no more writing about the water potential of a potato, however sadly I haven't had a chance to read everyone's long posts... I will though I promise!!!!!!))

"Good day my dear may I be of assistance? You seem slightly lost." Mercy approached the young woman who seemed in some way familiar to her ((Annelise)). Hmmmm who is she Mercy pondered and narrowed her eyes slightly, when the woman began to turn she switched from thoughtful to brightly smiling.

She hoped she hadn't disturbed the young girl from important ponderings but Mercy was feeling helpful today and this woman did seem without a real direction staring out of the window as she was. It was when the face of the young woman was turned to her it hit her just why this woman was familiar she was indeed a Duchess, of the court, more memories came back and her eyes widdened slightly, though her smile refused to faulter.

(((ooc: Fayreview - Oh boy. I think Mercy might just kick your behind.
And uhm.... Silvius lost TWO of the ONLY loves of his life? Talk about a contradiction in terms... *lol*)))

((OK. Now I have to back track and see what you've all been doing ta Atropa I hate to be in the dark :P. If I'm honest I was ploughing back through the old thread for the details on Annelise, only to remember i already know her scandal shock horror whilst i was at it i found the first thought Queen ever had about Mercy:

"However Madame Flight had a reputation of her own making as well, of being the nosiest woman alive. Queen Isabella knew very well, she could never allow Madame Mercy too close to her."

Well it's nice to know opinions change huh ))

"I, Duchesse, am Baroness Flight. But of course I can escort you to your chambers."

((Shenan I'm assuming here that they were kept ))

Mercy smiled to the younger woman and with a bow of the head, began to lead the way. "It is so nice to see you once again in our Court, though your introduction was unnecessary I remembered you as soon as I saw your beautiful face." Yes she remembered something, hwever she wasn't going to bring it up the poor girl seemed lost here and perhaps her past should stay past. "I do hope everything went alright with whatever drew you away from us."

((Oh dear, I shall have to make up some sort of convo with an NPC later for Mercy to get the details of all that.... *sighs* Atropa you just couldn't make my life easy could you? :P))

((Well Shenan bebding time is just as good huh? Oh well I'm having a REALLY rough week it seems so this is the the only roleplay that has had any maintenance from yours truely! so think yourselves lucky!!!!!!!!))

((Well i think shameless advertising is good Shenan! After all you weren't the only one to try and "nag" Haylifer about a certain characters return I say "nag" as I nag, you may call it what you wish!))

"Yes there are some amazing people in this court." Mercy refused to say nice, the levels of Irony were just too much! "Well i personally am most glad to welcome you back, we recently lost a Duchess you see, mind you that was for the most terrible of behaviour." Mercy smiled at Annelise as they reached the door. The woman seemed distarcted and at slight dis-ease around herself. Mercy did not think of this as a bad thing.

"But of course we do not expect a repeat of that, and especially not from a fine young woman such as yourself." Mercy was pleased that she had seen the young woman early, it paid to remind new comers of her presence, even if both Annelise and Felix were more 'returners' than new comers. They had been reminded in some way of Mercy's existence and of her power.

She nodded at Annelise and had begun to walk away when a pale and flushed Helena rushed up to her. From the urgency with which Helena gripped Mercy's hand she sensed she should hurry. Once a safe distance, helena proceeded to fill her in on a rogue man in the court and an attack on the Prince. What was happening with the Prince? She had wondered before and now she was forced too again, Mercy decided to seek out a guard to see what they knew of the matter.

((Sorry RubyAmbition feel free to Call mercy back if you wish or to be upset with her, but as a gossip she is drawn like a moth to the flame, and a faithful servant chat was the only thing I could think to do!))

"He tried to murder the Prince!" came a yell from nearby. Murder? There was a murderer in the palace, a dangerously immoral revolutionist no doubt, who could be on a trail of destruction through the whole of court! Thankfully, the word 'tried' held some positive implications. Octavien wasn't dead, and the murderer was likely to be unskilled at his trade. The word Marquess could also be heard multiple times. Whoever this Marquess person was, and whatever business he had in the Palace.. Surely he was yet another deranged buffoon, jealous over Octavien's recent marriage to the Princess. The Princess. What with her misfortune, and now the Prince; how romantically tragic.

Merde. Something was definitely awry out there, and whether it be murder or not, it didn't sound good. If that man got anywhere near Isabella.. God only knew what could happen. We'd have a case of treason; and I would have lost my beloved Queen, along with her especially lovely collection of beverages. Thankfully, she was safely up here in the Salon, protected by not only scores of armoured guards, but my skilled expertise in negotiation. I breathed a sigh of relief, turning to the Queen to comment on the commotion.

"Isabella?" My eyes darted around the room: gone... The Queen wasn't anywhere to be seen. And if she wasn't up here where it was safe, then...

My heart leapt in panic, as adrenaline forced me to run forwards, towards the doors which were still swinging from Isabella's departure. I sprinted across the gallery, nearly crashing into the wall opposite. The crowd of spectators could be heard audibly now, their panicked voices claiming fear for their lives. If only the Queen had the same sense of self-danger. Then, I heard her voice above all others, crying Octavien's name as she attempted to push through the frightened crowd.

No time to spare, I fought my way through the crowds after her, hot on the heels of that speeding flurry of royal lace. Did she not understand there was a murderer on the loose? A lunatic deserving of the gallows? There was no other way. I valued the Queen's life far too much to allow her to pass through that crowd easily. Even if she didn't.

With a surge of chivalric strength I didn't know I posessed, I managed to wrestle the gossiping courtiers aside and catch hold of the Queen by the arm. It took some effort restraining her; the woman turned out to be quite strong for such a lady of grace.

"Let go of me!" she cried, turning around with eyes full of fiery determination. "I must see what-"

"I can't let you, Your Majesty" I said, with an attempt to impose some heroic chivalry in my voice as I pulled her a few steps away from the crowd and the dangers behind it.

"I order you to unhand me, Felix!" came the reply, not a fraction of the level-headed, calm Queen Isabella the court knew her to be as she struggled to free herself. "That's an order, you hear!"

Did I dutifully follow orders, ever the loyal sidekick to Isabella's every word? I couldn't. I couldn't live with myself if I messed up here.

"And put you before a murderer? With all due respect Your Majesty, as a Comte I do believe it's my orders to protect you with my life. He'll try kill you too if you give him the chance. I regard your life with the highest value, even if you don't."

I glanced to the heart of the action; this Marquess person was being held by at least twenty guards, and being dragged away. I let out a small sigh of relief that at least he was no longer a threat. Octavien was nowhere to be seen, though.

((Blahhh, sucky and rambling and no good, I know, but it's late and I've had a few drinks now and I can't rightly concentrate. Pfft Fayre, shameless nagging? Heh, I require no nagging, how could I resist it? Anyway.. bed now. :howdy: Goodnight, courtiers!))

((Ahh thanks Atropa. I'll fix that, although I'm currently using a keyboard literally 2 inches wide. May take some time. Can we not pretend Octavien was snooping around someone elses suite when it happened? :p))

((EDIT: I'll leave it until the morning when I get access to a proper PC rather than trying to get the iPhone to scroll down the editor box... Ew. I somehow managed to get a load of funny squares appear anyway.. Oh well. Everything will be better in the morning ))

((OOC: Friendly reminder, a little less than 24 hours before we move onto the afternoon.
Hay – Post 2 has palace maps. Once you get to a screen that you can actually see on, learn them. Also, since I have time tonight, I thought I’d go ahead and reply as if you changed that post of yours. See how much faith I have in you?
Fay… You may nag, but I simply asked. Only once! lol
Glad to see so many familiar faces return, and new ones appear. May we all create wonderful twisted storylines together!))

The crowd was thick, every eye and mind was on the Prince’s Suite and what was happening inside it. Including Isabella’s. The possibility that Octavien could be dying before they had come to terms with each other was gnawing at her mind and at her heart. She could not allow that to happen. She was not going to be left on this pathetic world the rest of her life knowing that it was her fault that his life had been taken.

All those thoughts had taken over her. She had felt rage before in her life, but this, this emotion, it was different. All her past moments of rage had been because of something done to her. She was double crossed, insulted, or perhaps underestimated. Never had a rage been born out of her concern for another person.

So when her arm had been firmly grasped, it was with blinded eyes that she turned, hissing demands. “Let go of me!” Her head spun around landing upon Comte Felix. Her eyes narrowed, communicating abundantly clear her displeasure at being held back. “If you know what’s best for you-“

“I can’t let you, Your Majesty!” he interrupted her, pulling her back from the crowd.

Isabella still couldn’t see clearly, all she saw was this pathetic little man, stopping her. Why in the world was he stopping her? A command! She thought quickly. If it was one thing the man understood, it was orders. “I order you to unhand me Felix!” she followed through on her thought as she attempted to pull away from him. “That is an order!”

“And put you before a murderer? With all due respect Your Majesty, as a Comte I do believe it’s my orders to protect you with my life.” Felix’s words had begun to penetrate her anger, beckoning to the rational woman that was buried underneath. “He’ll try to kill you too if you give him the chance. I regard your life with the highest value, even if you don’t.”

His words bounced around in her mind, as she struggled to take a deep breath. She had stopped pulling with all her might, so when she snapped her arm back from the Comte, he had allowed her the freedom from his grasp she so desperately wanted. She looked around as she quickly regained her posture, it appeared that everyone but Comte Charantes had their eyes focused on Octavian’s Suite, seemingly oblivious to the fight she had just put up to be in that room. A fight she had lost. Her mind knew that Felix was correct. Who in their right mind would allow the Queen of the kingdom to be near a murderer? One who apparently had the quest of Royal Blood driving him.

With Felix’s eyes still upon her, watching for the slightest sign that she might make a run for it, she stood erect and with her head held high, she purposefully brushed passed him, walking towards the Salon. She did not enter through its doors however, as she still had every intention to gather what information she could. As she turned, she spotted the doors to Eduard’s Salon open as well. The King stood in the doorway of his Salon in the company of palace guards.

Just then she heard the distinct cry of Marquess Berini as he was being drug in her direction, the guards bringing him down the stairs. “I don’t know where that dagger came from!” the lunatic cried out. Obviously grasping at straws. With the amount of eye witnesses the man was a fool to think his charm could buy his freedom.

Isabella grabbed a servant by the arm. “Run at once and see the nature of the Prince’s condition.” The startled girl took a second to comprehend the order she had just been given before running down the hall. She had gotten to the doors just as they were being closed. Once she returned to Isabella, the only news she could give was that she did see Octavien walking deeper into his suite. So he appeared to be okay.

Isabella forced a thank you and turned instantly to enter her salon, leaving Felix to close the doors. She found herself fighting so many emotions it was dizzying. There was the guilt she carried. If she had just allowed the Marquess to indulge in his fantasies one more time, none of this whole horrid mess would have happened. She was scared at what harm he had done to Octavien physically, never mind the harm he had done to their relationship. Most of all she was frustrated. She wanted to be in that room with him. He was there to defend her from Federico in her moment of need, how could she not be with him now?

Isabella suddenly found herself in front of the wine cabinet that Felix had been studying so closely just moments ago. Her thoughts had led her here. She firmly grabbed the long neck of the container and filled a glass. Taking it in her hand, and much unlike normal she downed the whole glass. It had been a long time since she had a good drink. She had been quite content and happy spending her time with Octavien, she had no need of such drinks. But right now, the smooth liquid called to her. She may have managed to gain control of her body, but she struggled to gain control of her emotions. As she poured a second glass, much calmer now than when she had poured the first, Felix’s voice pierced through the silence.

As Isabella’s stare was fixated on the harpsichord, she listened to his words.

((OOC: Hay, I couldn’t decide what to have Felix say. I thought a comment about if she planned to share any of her wine with him, or perhaps he hadn’t seen her drink like that since just before a certain Duc’s death, or even something about him recognizing Federico Berini. So I thought I’d leave it for you to decide. ))

((OOC: Welcome back S2CForums!
With the downtime, and problems some people are having logging in, the morning for our characters will be extended. Afternoon will come about 34 hours from this post.

Also, I'd like to announce that an old friend of the King is on his way to our palace. He seems promising to shake things up a little bit. More information coming soon... ))