Franziska was staring, as if the King was not real. He was her safe haven, the only thing keeping her in a plush bed, a palace instead of whatever home her parents could con their way into, constantly moving. He was the only way she could stay in one place, luxurious lifestyle abound. Her blood ran cold, her cheeks burning, dark eyes wide and fixed on the man. Had she just ruined any chance she had of staying in Ferelden? Had she destroyed any hope of the betrothal keeping her safe? She was like a deer, stuck in sudden firelight. The wine dangled in one hand, Antivan wine that her mother had brought, good quality. A reminder of home, that she so desperately missed.
Her breathing was shallow, as she watched Manon move to interact. Everything in her screamed that the silver-haired princess needed to leave; this was ruining the game she was playing... and yet. The King was not mad. Was he? She did not know him well enough to tell for certain. After a moment, she'd reached to remove her own mask, moving after Manon. "The party below is not as entertaining as the Princess of Orlais, Sire. Well... it's a bit dull, compared to Antivan parties, at least." Her father and mother had commented the same to her. She hadn't had the heart to witness the looks on their faces when they learned she'd not been spending any time in the man's presence, had sequestered herself in a wing of the palace and refused his company. Her mother would be truly appalled. So she had let them think that the King had insisted on the party below, and given her no say.
Manon... spoke as if she knew the man, and Fran's head tilted slightly. "Your Grace, do you know the Princess?" There was no jealousy in her voice, as she moved towards the man, holding the bottle of wine up. "My mother thought you'd appreciate Antivan's finest. A little taste of home." She could not fathom how the two might know one another otherwise, some part of her was morbidly curious.
Her breathing was shallow, as she watched Manon move to interact. Everything in her screamed that the silver-haired princess needed to leave; this was ruining the game she was playing... and yet. The King was not mad. Was he? She did not know him well enough to tell for certain. After a moment, she'd reached to remove her own mask, moving after Manon. "The party below is not as entertaining as the Princess of Orlais, Sire. Well... it's a bit dull, compared to Antivan parties, at least." Her father and mother had commented the same to her. She hadn't had the heart to witness the looks on their faces when they learned she'd not been spending any time in the man's presence, had sequestered herself in a wing of the palace and refused his company. Her mother would be truly appalled. So she had let them think that the King had insisted on the party below, and given her no say.
Manon... spoke as if she knew the man, and Fran's head tilted slightly. "Your Grace, do you know the Princess?" There was no jealousy in her voice, as she moved towards the man, holding the bottle of wine up. "My mother thought you'd appreciate Antivan's finest. A little taste of home." She could not fathom how the two might know one another otherwise, some part of her was morbidly curious.
07-14-2022, 08:50 PM
