You nearly gag at the thought, then shake your head violently to clear the memories. Something about this place and the stress brings them back too frequently.
But all memories are pushed away once you catch a view of Mira, lurking in front of the doors, a proud smile on her face. Despite the smile, you can practically feel the sorrow radiating off her, even though she's on the other end of the room.
Mentally noting her position, you once again shift your eyes back to Elya. She's pulled many of those floating around the twins toward herself. They don't seem to have noticed, too enraptured in their own conversations.
It isn't long before she gets her first invitation to dance. She accepts, as is expected, and is pulled to the dance floor. A ring of spectators forms, murmuring amongst themselves.
You stay where you are, still silently watching and avoiding Mira's attention. You grimly realize that it may be a while before you have an opportunity to speak with Elya.
With a sigh, you settle in for a long wait.
Two Hours Later
The boredom is mind-numbing. It's a neverending series of dances and conversations that all blur into the next. But you're used to boredom. The majority of a campaign is monotonous waiting, after all.
But finally, your wait comes to an end. Elya excuses herself from the dance floor and rests up against a wall, tearing herself away from the festivities before someone can notice.
She's on the opposite side of the banquet hall from you, separated by an ocean of nobles, musicians, and the long table.
You stand up from your seat, offer a quick few apologies to those you shuffle by, and move to the wall. Once there, you start to shuffle to the left, hugging the wall as you go. You make doubly sure to avoid any attention, especially from Mira or the twins. But you also move with haste, knowing that Elya will be pulled back into the festivities before long.
You pass a handful of guards, all of whom give you a wary glance, but you keep your head down. Best not to draw their gaze.
Finally, you reach Elya, who's leaning against the wall, arms folded. Her eyes are tilted down, and she doesn't see you approaching.
It's been nearly half a year since you last spoke with Elya in any capacity. As such, you find yourself wondering how to address her.
Her amber eyes quickly open wide at such a crass greeting, and she wheels around to face you. Her face is not one of outrage, as to be expected out of most nobles, but rather one of confusion. The face of someone who has spent the past two hours being called all manner of compliments, only to be insulted so bluntly.
But at the sight of her brother, her expression fades away. In its place, a large smile spreads across her face.
"Arthur Hornraven!" she cries out, and you cringe, placing a finger over your lips, signaling for her to be quiet. You take a brief scan of the room, noting those who have turned toward the two of you.
"Keep quiet," you practically hiss, and her expression turns to concern.
"Are you okay?" she asks.
You nod. "I'm fine. I just don't have much time."
"O-okay," she replies, disappointed. "But I haven't seen you in months! Don't you—"
"I have an urgent message to deliver." She hesitates, then gives you a small nod, inviting you to continue.
You once again glance around, scanning for anyone nearby. While many stand at a distance, staring and whispering amongst themselves, none are too close. Despite this, you maintain caution.
You bring your voice to a gentle whisper, softly saying, "Your father has been assassinated."
Elya's face moves from shock, to horror, to grief. You continue, "Mira didn't wanna tell you, sayin' she didn't want you to cry or somethin' to that effect. But it's not good. I believe we're goin' to war."
Her voice is a hoarse whisper. "Oh."
You add, with as much gentleness as you can muster, "I am truly sorry."
You know that Elya was much closer to your father than you ever could be. While you grieve little at Sobik's death, you do feel sympathy for Elya. The loss of a loved one is painful, and you know that Elya is affected more than others by such things.
Much more than you, at any rate.
Elya's reaction to grief is not out-of-control sobbing, but more shock and silent tears, a fact you find yourself grateful for. She gives you another small nod and quietly says, "Th-thank you."
You return the small nod, and then realize your mission is over. You were so obsessed, so focused on your one goal that you hadn't considered an exit strategy. Giving it thought, you think you might be able to sneak back out the front door.
But your thoughts are scattered by a voice behind you. "Arthur Hornraven! What the hell are you doing?"
Next
You freeze, and Elya goes wide-eyed. You silently beckon for her to move away before the situation escalates. She shuffles back slightly, and you turn around slowly and deliberately.
Your fears are confirmed. Mira is practically running toward you, a look of rage on her face. Belos and Vedran have stood up from their location at the head of the table, confused at the queen consort herself running and cursing.
The music stops and the whispers die down as everyone stares at the situation unfolding in front of them. Besides the sound of Mira's frantic footsteps, it is perfectly silent.
When Mira stops, her face is hardly a foot from your own. You tense up, watching someone so hostile approach so close to you. In a lower tone, a notch below shouting, she continues. "I told you not to speak with her!"
Everyone is staring at the scene unfolding. The scene you are a part of.