A self-imposed challenge of my own creation, running from February 1, 2016 to February 29, 2016. I only plan to start these stories (producing around a thousand words for each), not to finish them within the month.
This was originally going to be Emily x Marik, switching, but I opted for something Parabellum instead.
Title: Duel Pairing/Rating: Emily/Marik NC-17 Challenges: Summary: Imagine person A [Emily] is usually more submissive during sex, but one day they are feeling aggressive and physically fight person B [Marik] for dominance. It gets pretty intense, with biting. Does B enjoy it? Who wins the fight? Warnings: dubcon (Stockholm syndrome), minor violence
Title: Untitled Harem/Parabellum Crossover Pairing/Rating: Frost/Sparrow/Nadia/Simon/Izzy/Suri + Loretta Challenges: [citrus-taste (http://norienchronicle.livejournal.com/30759.html)] 26. harems Summary: Frost takes the role of Gareth, while Sparrow takes the role of Soleil as his new bride. Nadia, Simon, Izzy, and Suri round out the rest of the marriage/harem, while Loretta and Octavian also play prominent roles. Warning: dubcon (arranged marriage)
Note: In order to preserve as many of Sparrow's for character elements as possible, I'll be leaving her background quite different from Soleil's. Unlike Soleil, who is the daughter of either a duke (assuming Gareth is still a king by the time I get around to beginning the story), Sparrow is a peasant who gets married to the king (Frost) through some very Cinderella-esque circumstances. And in Frost's own background, he also quite different from Gareth; while Gareth became an unexpected king via his successful duel with his brother, the Circle in this universe revolted against his predecessor (hell, I can even imply it's Gareth if I want). And while Octavian Donahue expected to be his successor, the Circle supported Frost's claim instead.
Everything about this was absurd. Had someone told Sparrow even a word of this a month ago, she would've laughed in their face. The sheer thought of being married at all was absurd, but finding herself struggling to find some way to turn down the King himself as to absurd to be believed even now. And yet here she was, being whisked away in the most extravagant carriage she had ever seen in her life by a group of terribly unfriendly palace guards who clearly weren't going to take no for an answer.
Sparrow's hands moved restlessly in her lap, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her short brown dress while she tried to repress the urge to bolt. Nothing good was going to happen when she made it to the palace. Either what the guards had told her would turn out to be a mistake, in which case she would no doubt find herself abandoned in the heart of the city with no way to get home, or else--or worse, it would prove to be true. She had no idea what she was going to do in that case. How exactly did someone to about trying to deny a king?
The carriage rolled on through the night, the incessant sound of hoof-beats from the horses stationed all around them like a mobile wall of flesh lulling her to sleep in spite of her growling stomach and rising dread. By the time they reached the city itself, the warm morning light slipping through the open window of the carriage had woken her from a dream she couldn't recall now that she was awake and so thoroughly distracted once more, plunged immediately back into her earlier dread. She knew they were in the city now, the unbelievable din and the stench of animals and overcrowding familiar to her by now, though she'd hardly spent any time here at all, and she longed to get back to the relative quiet of the town she left behind.
At best, it would take weeks in this city to earn enough money to travel home; at worst, she would never get out of this city again.
The farther they traveled into the city, the worse it all became. Everything was unbelievably loud and impossibly crowded, and the carriage slowed to a crawl as the guards ushered the peasants from its path. But as they finally neared the palace, it all started to fall away. There were lots people and more guards, a veritable army of them--more uniformed men and women than Sparrow had ever seen... until that night a week ago when she had first stepped foot in this terrible city.
As the guards opened the palace gate to let them in, Sparrow's heart started to race, pounding in her chest with all the frenzied panic of a caged beast facing its doom. This was a mistake. It had to be a mistake.
But as they ushered her out of the carriage and up the palace steps, no one have any sign that they even so much as suspected they might have gotten the wrong girl. If anyone was at all surprised to see a shabbily dressed, embarrassingly dirty peasant woman with wild, terrified eyes walking up the steps while looking for all the world as if she would've much preferred to run and hide, they said nothing. Everyone must kept acting as if somehow everything was normal. As if a bit of this made any kind of sense.
Sparrow was ushered away as soon as she stepped for inside the palace. But instead of being taken to the ballroom she had seen before, a tall, dark-haired man met her in the hall just beyond the foyer, and the smile he gave her was disarmingly pleasant. And yet she didn't doubt she was about to wipe it right off his face.
1. big city [rocky road (http://norienchronicle.livejournal.com/19760.html#rockyroad) | runaway-tales (http://norienchronicle.livejournal.com/18484.html)]
"Miss Stacey Katharos?" he asked in one of the most genial voices she'd ever heard, and wanted away whatever hope she had of escape. They knew exactly who she was. There had been no mistake.
"Yes," she answered stiffly, staring him in the eye. Surely, she thought, he would figure out that somehow someone must have gotten something wrong--surely she wasn't the girl they wanted--because the king couldn't possibly have any use for an impolite, uneducated woman like herself? A woman whose station in life was little more that dirt--and who refused to defer to her so-called betters nevertheless?
Pax, this was going to get her killed.
"Good," he said, smiling at her as if nothing was amiss. "We've all been eagerly awaiting your arrival. I hope you enjoyed the trip?" The last word lilted upward in question, as if he expected her to either confirm or deny it. Sparrow stared at him a moment, eyes narrowing slightly, and the man's expression slowly sank into something a bit more solemn. "I assume that no one has told you why exactly you've been summoned here?"
"Actually," she said, wondering--and not particularly caring--exactly how one was supposed to answer to a servant such as this obviously important man, "I have." It was now or never, she decided, so let it be now. "That's the problem, actually. I hate to be the one to tell you this, after you sent out a carriage and bothered getting me all the way here and everything... but I'm not the girl you're after. Trust me."
The man raised a skeptical brow. "You're not Stacey Katharos, then?" he asked.
"I am. But I can't be the one you want. There's been some kind of mistake."
He stared at her for a moment, his earlier smile gone now in favor of something not quite yet a frown but far from pleased anyway. "You were the young woman who attended the ball last week under the name 'Sparrow', were you not?"
Sparrow's heart practically seized in her chest, and she looked away, near enough to panic. Please let this be a mistake. "I was. Am. But--"
"Then we don't have the wrong woman," he said, voice so firm and matter-of-fact that she knew there was no further point in arguing. He wasn't to let her go; her last chance, then, lay with the King. If he didn't put a stop to this, if he didn't put the mistake into words and dismiss her like the unwanted vagabond she was, she was doomed. "Now," said the man, Sparrow's shoulders sagging as he turned to start off down the hall, gesturing for her to following him, "the King will want to see you the moment he is able. For now, you'll be safe with me. As Lord Chamberlain, I expected we'll be getting to know each other rather closely over the next few years; you, Miss Katharos, may call me German."
"Sparrow," she corrected rather absently, trying to keep up with him even while she felt rather faint. He glanced back at her questioningly. "I don't use my birth name. I'm just Sparrow."
He paused, just for a second, and she was convinced for a moment that there was a distinct, budding smile on his lips. But he turned from her quickly and continued down the hall, leaving her to follow him like a lost puppy.
Sparrow was in so far over her head, she realized as she walked through the labyrinthine halls at this stranger's heels. She was following a lord, she reminded herself, albeit one with a title she couldn't begin to guess the meaning off--what the fuck was a Chamberlain, after all?--and, according to the guards who'd ousted her from her own home--and the vague almost-confirmation this Lord German had given her a few moments ago--she was being summoned personally by the King because--
It was absurd.
Finally, German stopped them both at massive wooden door, and he turned to her with an almost apologetic smile. "Your chambers are within. The others will be waiting to meet you, I'm sure, but I can deter them if you're prefer to acclimate yourself alone. Shall I?"
Sparrow stared at him blankly. Between the absurdity of acclimating herself--as if she could get used to this--and meeting the others... Sparrow's head was spinning. This man was not only putting her up in the King's own suite, he was trying to introduce her to the Consorts--and counting her among them all the while. She had to get out of here.
Realizing he was still waiting for her to answer the question, Sparrow blurted out a, "No. I--I mean…" By the gods, what did she mean? She didn't want to meet them, certainly… but how could she refuse, if this really wasn't a mistake? (And how could it not be?)
German surveyed her for a moment, a surprisingly sympathetic look on his face. "I think you'll want to meet them," he told her. "If anyone in the world can help calm you, it's them. They've been through this themselves, after all."
Sparrow lingered uncertainly. He said that like it was common knowledge, an obvious conclusion she should've been able to come to herself, but she didn't know a single thing about the Consort beyond their position in the royal family. She didn't even know how many of them there were; as far as she could recall, there was at least one man and a handful of woman among their ranks. But beyond that, she didn't know a damn thing; she didn't know if they were nobles' children or peasants like herself, didn't know if they'd consented to their marriages or if they, like her, had been taken from their homes and possibly coerced into the new lives they were living. And since German's words made it sound ominously like the latter was the case, that left Sparrow dangerously little hope of getting out of here any time soon.
Perhaps it would be best to meet these people, after all, if only to hear their secrets--and to get a better grip on what they meant for herself.
"Alright," she agreed finally, suddenly eager to get this over with. She hoped she would be able to ferret out the answer she craved.
German nodded and reached over to the door, knocking hard and fast against its wooden surface. There seemed, Sparrow thought, to be a pattern to the rapping, as if German meant to communicate some message to the people on the other side--or perhaps wished to assure them that it was him visiting them instead of someone else. That didn't bode particularly well.
There came no response, but German opened the door after a moment regardless, and then he stepped to the side and ushered Sparrow in.
The room beyond the door was a massive thing, nothing in size compared to the Great Hall of the castle or the ballroom she'd seen before, but bigger than any other room she'd seen besides and more lavishly decorated. The walls were round, the door where the room connected to the hall being their outermost point, and she wondered what the point of that was. Surely they were sacrificing space, putting a circular room into an obviously rectangular section of the palace? But perhaps they didn't care; it didn't appear, after all, as if they didn't have plenty to spare.
It had to be a style thing, she supposed, something that the wealthy indulged in to somehow prove their superiority over everyone else, and the rest of the room certainly spoke to that conclusion. It was filled with the kind of luxury Sparrow had never seen before her first visit to the palace; there was a series of white columns like tree trunks set into a smaller circle around the entire room, and beyond them, the floor was sunken in to form a lower section. Unlike the marble flooring to the rest of the room, this lower section was carpeted with what looked like the single most comfortable material Sparrow had ever seen. It was plush, meticulously clean, and richly maroon in color, and scattered all around its surface were what looked like enormous pillows big enough for a person to comfortably sit upon like a chair, each dyed with vibrant, unnatural colors she never could've afforded to purchase herself.
But more important than any of the rest of it, of course, was the people who were already in the room, their eyes affixed to her as she stepped uncomfortably into their midst.
There were three of them--one more than she'd been expecting and yet at the same time far less. She hadn't kept up with the gossip of the royal and noble classes' lives over the past few years, of course, because she never had before; but she did have the vaguest recollection of two previous royal weddings between the King and one of his new Consorts. As far as she could recall, that accounted for the man in this little group--a pale-skinned, dark-haired, and slim figure with a less-than-particularly friendly look on his face--and one or the other of the two women. The first of these women was a tall, shockingly voluptuous and undeniably attractive girl obviously a few years (or more) older than Sparrow herself; there was something unsettling, though, about the way she was looking at Sparrow as if the latter woman was in fact a meal rather than a person, and Sparrow found herself now flustered on top of wary.
The second woman, though, was the one among them who looked anything resembling friendly. She, like her counterpart, was certainly more femininely endowed than Sparrow herself, but unlike the other woman, who was adorned more extravagantly with makeup and jewels than any woman Sparrow had ever set eyes upon, she was dressed far more casually than Sparrow had expected her to be--and the warm, welcoming smile on her face was something of a pleasant surprise, even if Sparrow wasn't willing to go quite so far as to call it a relief.
"Lost?" the man asked after a moment, and for a single, mad instant, Sparrow was about to say yes--
--but the woman with the hungry look in her eye turned to him, eyes still glinting, and chastised him before she had a chance to speak. "Simon, you know she's not. Stelian described her perfectly." Sparrow stood awkwardly by the door as she watched the woman stand, and it was only when Sparrow saw her upright that she realized just how scantily clothed this stranger was. She had obviously interrupted them during a private moment, then; it wasn't often one saw a stranger--or one of noble ranking, at least--this exposed.
Sparrow's eyes must have widened in her surprise as the woman started toward her, because the imposing figure stopped with an almost delighted smile before glancing back at the man again. "But he didn't say she was shy." The woman turned back to her again, grinning.
"Don't torment her," the man interrupted, just as the woman was opening her mouth to speak again. She fell silent, but she appeared to sulk about it, though perhaps the response was more playful than genuine. "I'm imagine she's overwhelmed enough without having to deal with your teasing. Sit back down and leave her alone."
The woman standing rolled her eyes, and while she didn't sit back down, she didn't approach Sparrow, either. And she also didn't hold to her silence.
"Fine, then," she said. "I hope I'm allowed to at least introduce myself to our new bride?" Sparrow flinched. This wasn't happening. "I'm Isadora. First Consort to the King of Parabellum--as I'm sure you know."
Sparrow hadn't known, of course, and wasn't even sure what exactly a "First Consort" was or how it was any different from a regular Consort--assuming it was different at all. But Isadora didn't seem to realize that; she was staring at Sparrow expectantly, and Sparrow realized how she was supposed to respond after just a few too many moments.
"Sparrow," she said quickly, her voice colder and far more obviously anxious than she'd intended it to be. (But what point was there in hiding, anyway?) "My name is Sparrow."
"Is it?" the man asked, and though his face hadn't shifted, he sounded almost skeptical.
Isadora, too, looked fairly surprised by her words. "Stelian said it was Stacey."
"He doesn't know me, then, does he?"
And that, surprising, was the first thing that brought even the slightest hint of change to the seated man's expression. The faintest smirk appeared on his lips even as Isadora's expression fell--and the seated woman's faltered slightly. "Are you sure it's you, then?" she asked, speaking for the very first time. She had a gentle voice to match her smile, and it was only when she heard it that Sparrow decided there might truly be some hint of genuine amiability to her smile.
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[citrus-taste] 26. harems | Harem/Parabellum Crossover
Title: Duel
Pairing/Rating: Emily/Marik NC-17
Challenges:
Summary: Imagine person A [Emily] is usually more submissive during sex, but one day they are feeling aggressive and physically fight person B [Marik] for dominance. It gets pretty intense, with biting. Does B enjoy it? Who wins the fight?
Warnings: dubcon (Stockholm syndrome), minor violence
Title: Untitled Harem/Parabellum Crossover
Pairing/Rating: Frost/Sparrow/Nadia/Simon/Izzy/Suri + Loretta
Challenges: [citrus-taste (http://norienchronicle.livejournal.com/30759.html)] 26. harems
Summary: Frost takes the role of Gareth, while Sparrow takes the role of Soleil as his new bride. Nadia, Simon, Izzy, and Suri round out the rest of the marriage/harem, while Loretta and Octavian also play prominent roles.
Warning: dubcon (arranged marriage)
Untitled Harem/Parabellum Crossover [1/?]
Everything about this was absurd. Had someone told Sparrow even a word of this a month ago, she would've laughed in their face. The sheer thought of being married at all was absurd, but finding herself struggling to find some way to turn down the King himself as to absurd to be believed even now. And yet here she was, being whisked away in the most extravagant carriage she had ever seen in her life by a group of terribly unfriendly palace guards who clearly weren't going to take no for an answer.
Sparrow's hands moved restlessly in her lap, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her short brown dress while she tried to repress the urge to bolt. Nothing good was going to happen when she made it to the palace. Either what the guards had told her would turn out to be a mistake, in which case she would no doubt find herself abandoned in the heart of the city with no way to get home, or else--or worse, it would prove to be true. She had no idea what she was going to do in that case. How exactly did someone to about trying to deny a king?
The carriage rolled on through the night, the incessant sound of hoof-beats from the horses stationed all around them like a mobile wall of flesh lulling her to sleep in spite of her growling stomach and rising dread. By the time they reached the city itself, the warm morning light slipping through the open window of the carriage had woken her from a dream she couldn't recall now that she was awake and so thoroughly distracted once more, plunged immediately back into her earlier dread. She knew they were in the city now, the unbelievable din and the stench of animals and overcrowding familiar to her by now, though she'd hardly spent any time here at all, and she longed to get back to the relative quiet of the town she left behind.
At best, it would take weeks in this city to earn enough money to travel home; at worst, she would never get out of this city again.
The farther they traveled into the city, the worse it all became. Everything was unbelievably loud and impossibly crowded, and the carriage slowed to a crawl as the guards ushered the peasants from its path. But as they finally neared the palace, it all started to fall away. There were lots people and more guards, a veritable army of them--more uniformed men and women than Sparrow had ever seen... until that night a week ago when she had first stepped foot in this terrible city.
As the guards opened the palace gate to let them in, Sparrow's heart started to race, pounding in her chest with all the frenzied panic of a caged beast facing its doom. This was a mistake. It had to be a mistake.
But as they ushered her out of the carriage and up the palace steps, no one have any sign that they even so much as suspected they might have gotten the wrong girl. If anyone was at all surprised to see a shabbily dressed, embarrassingly dirty peasant woman with wild, terrified eyes walking up the steps while looking for all the world as if she would've much preferred to run and hide, they said nothing. Everyone must kept acting as if somehow everything was normal. As if a bit of this made any kind of sense.
Sparrow was ushered away as soon as she stepped for inside the palace. But instead of being taken to the ballroom she had seen before, a tall, dark-haired man met her in the hall just beyond the foyer, and the smile he gave her was disarmingly pleasant. And yet she didn't doubt she was about to wipe it right off his face.
Updated Challenges List
1. big city [rocky road (http://norienchronicle.livejournal.com/19760.html#rockyroad) | runaway-tales (http://norienchronicle.livejournal.com/18484.html)]
27. disbelief [cherry chocolate chip (http://norienchronicle.livejournal.com/20690.html#cherrychocolatechip) | runaway-tales (http://norienchronicle.livejournal.com/18484.html)]
8. helplessness [white chocolate (http://norienchronicle.livejournal.com/20690.html#whitechocolate) | runaway-tales (http://norienchronicle.livejournal.com/18484.html)]
Untitled Harem/Parabellum Crossover [2/?]
"Yes," she answered stiffly, staring him in the eye. Surely, she thought, he would figure out that somehow someone must have gotten something wrong--surely she wasn't the girl they wanted--because the king couldn't possibly have any use for an impolite, uneducated woman like herself? A woman whose station in life was little more that dirt--and who refused to defer to her so-called betters nevertheless?
Pax, this was going to get her killed.
"Good," he said, smiling at her as if nothing was amiss. "We've all been eagerly awaiting your arrival. I hope you enjoyed the trip?" The last word lilted upward in question, as if he expected her to either confirm or deny it. Sparrow stared at him a moment, eyes narrowing slightly, and the man's expression slowly sank into something a bit more solemn. "I assume that no one has told you why exactly you've been summoned here?"
"Actually," she said, wondering--and not particularly caring--exactly how one was supposed to answer to a servant such as this obviously important man, "I have." It was now or never, she decided, so let it be now. "That's the problem, actually. I hate to be the one to tell you this, after you sent out a carriage and bothered getting me all the way here and everything... but I'm not the girl you're after. Trust me."
The man raised a skeptical brow. "You're not Stacey Katharos, then?" he asked.
"I am. But I can't be the one you want. There's been some kind of mistake."
He stared at her for a moment, his earlier smile gone now in favor of something not quite yet a frown but far from pleased anyway. "You were the young woman who attended the ball last week under the name 'Sparrow', were you not?"
Sparrow's heart practically seized in her chest, and she looked away, near enough to panic. Please let this be a mistake. "I was. Am. But--"
"Then we don't have the wrong woman," he said, voice so firm and matter-of-fact that she knew there was no further point in arguing. He wasn't to let her go; her last chance, then, lay with the King. If he didn't put a stop to this, if he didn't put the mistake into words and dismiss her like the unwanted vagabond she was, she was doomed. "Now," said the man, Sparrow's shoulders sagging as he turned to start off down the hall, gesturing for her to following him, "the King will want to see you the moment he is able. For now, you'll be safe with me. As Lord Chamberlain, I expected we'll be getting to know each other rather closely over the next few years; you, Miss Katharos, may call me German."
"Sparrow," she corrected rather absently, trying to keep up with him even while she felt rather faint. He glanced back at her questioningly. "I don't use my birth name. I'm just Sparrow."
He paused, just for a second, and she was convinced for a moment that there was a distinct, budding smile on his lips. But he turned from her quickly and continued down the hall, leaving her to follow him like a lost puppy.
Sparrow was in so far over her head, she realized as she walked through the labyrinthine halls at this stranger's heels. She was following a lord, she reminded herself, albeit one with a title she couldn't begin to guess the meaning off--what the fuck was a Chamberlain, after all?--and, according to the guards who'd ousted her from her own home--and the vague almost-confirmation this Lord German had given her a few moments ago--she was being summoned personally by the King because--
It was absurd.
Finally, German stopped them both at massive wooden door, and he turned to her with an almost apologetic smile. "Your chambers are within. The others will be waiting to meet you, I'm sure, but I can deter them if you're prefer to acclimate yourself alone. Shall I?"
Untitled Harem/Parabellum Crossover [3/?]
Realizing he was still waiting for her to answer the question, Sparrow blurted out a, "No. I--I mean…" By the gods, what did she mean? She didn't want to meet them, certainly… but how could she refuse, if this really wasn't a mistake? (And how could it not be?)
German surveyed her for a moment, a surprisingly sympathetic look on his face. "I think you'll want to meet them," he told her. "If anyone in the world can help calm you, it's them. They've been through this themselves, after all."
Sparrow lingered uncertainly. He said that like it was common knowledge, an obvious conclusion she should've been able to come to herself, but she didn't know a single thing about the Consort beyond their position in the royal family. She didn't even know how many of them there were; as far as she could recall, there was at least one man and a handful of woman among their ranks. But beyond that, she didn't know a damn thing; she didn't know if they were nobles' children or peasants like herself, didn't know if they'd consented to their marriages or if they, like her, had been taken from their homes and possibly coerced into the new lives they were living. And since German's words made it sound ominously like the latter was the case, that left Sparrow dangerously little hope of getting out of here any time soon.
Perhaps it would be best to meet these people, after all, if only to hear their secrets--and to get a better grip on what they meant for herself.
"Alright," she agreed finally, suddenly eager to get this over with. She hoped she would be able to ferret out the answer she craved.
German nodded and reached over to the door, knocking hard and fast against its wooden surface. There seemed, Sparrow thought, to be a pattern to the rapping, as if German meant to communicate some message to the people on the other side--or perhaps wished to assure them that it was him visiting them instead of someone else. That didn't bode particularly well.
There came no response, but German opened the door after a moment regardless, and then he stepped to the side and ushered Sparrow in.
The room beyond the door was a massive thing, nothing in size compared to the Great Hall of the castle or the ballroom she'd seen before, but bigger than any other room she'd seen besides and more lavishly decorated. The walls were round, the door where the room connected to the hall being their outermost point, and she wondered what the point of that was. Surely they were sacrificing space, putting a circular room into an obviously rectangular section of the palace? But perhaps they didn't care; it didn't appear, after all, as if they didn't have plenty to spare.
It had to be a style thing, she supposed, something that the wealthy indulged in to somehow prove their superiority over everyone else, and the rest of the room certainly spoke to that conclusion. It was filled with the kind of luxury Sparrow had never seen before her first visit to the palace; there was a series of white columns like tree trunks set into a smaller circle around the entire room, and beyond them, the floor was sunken in to form a lower section. Unlike the marble flooring to the rest of the room, this lower section was carpeted with what looked like the single most comfortable material Sparrow had ever seen. It was plush, meticulously clean, and richly maroon in color, and scattered all around its surface were what looked like enormous pillows big enough for a person to comfortably sit upon like a chair, each dyed with vibrant, unnatural colors she never could've afforded to purchase herself.
But more important than any of the rest of it, of course, was the people who were already in the room, their eyes affixed to her as she stepped uncomfortably into their midst.
Untitled Harem/Parabellum Crossover [4/?]
The second woman, though, was the one among them who looked anything resembling friendly. She, like her counterpart, was certainly more femininely endowed than Sparrow herself, but unlike the other woman, who was adorned more extravagantly with makeup and jewels than any woman Sparrow had ever set eyes upon, she was dressed far more casually than Sparrow had expected her to be--and the warm, welcoming smile on her face was something of a pleasant surprise, even if Sparrow wasn't willing to go quite so far as to call it a relief.
"Lost?" the man asked after a moment, and for a single, mad instant, Sparrow was about to say yes--
--but the woman with the hungry look in her eye turned to him, eyes still glinting, and chastised him before she had a chance to speak. "Simon, you know she's not. Stelian described her perfectly." Sparrow stood awkwardly by the door as she watched the woman stand, and it was only when Sparrow saw her upright that she realized just how scantily clothed this stranger was. She had obviously interrupted them during a private moment, then; it wasn't often one saw a stranger--or one of noble ranking, at least--this exposed.
Sparrow's eyes must have widened in her surprise as the woman started toward her, because the imposing figure stopped with an almost delighted smile before glancing back at the man again. "But he didn't say she was shy." The woman turned back to her again, grinning.
"Don't torment her," the man interrupted, just as the woman was opening her mouth to speak again. She fell silent, but she appeared to sulk about it, though perhaps the response was more playful than genuine. "I'm imagine she's overwhelmed enough without having to deal with your teasing. Sit back down and leave her alone."
The woman standing rolled her eyes, and while she didn't sit back down, she didn't approach Sparrow, either. And she also didn't hold to her silence.
"Fine, then," she said. "I hope I'm allowed to at least introduce myself to our new bride?" Sparrow flinched. This wasn't happening. "I'm Isadora. First Consort to the King of Parabellum--as I'm sure you know."
Sparrow hadn't known, of course, and wasn't even sure what exactly a "First Consort" was or how it was any different from a regular Consort--assuming it was different at all. But Isadora didn't seem to realize that; she was staring at Sparrow expectantly, and Sparrow realized how she was supposed to respond after just a few too many moments.
"Sparrow," she said quickly, her voice colder and far more obviously anxious than she'd intended it to be. (But what point was there in hiding, anyway?) "My name is Sparrow."
"Is it?" the man asked, and though his face hadn't shifted, he sounded almost skeptical.
Isadora, too, looked fairly surprised by her words. "Stelian said it was Stacey."
"He doesn't know me, then, does he?"
And that, surprising, was the first thing that brought even the slightest hint of change to the seated man's expression. The faintest smirk appeared on his lips even as Isadora's expression fell--and the seated woman's faltered slightly. "Are you sure it's you, then?" she asked, speaking for the very first time. She had a gentle voice to match her smile, and it was only when she heard it that Sparrow decided there might truly be some hint of genuine amiability to her smile.