It wasn't a shock to Tate that he responded the way he did, her eyes rolling at first but then again. What he said had made sense, as of now all the attention was on Spencer and his every word and move. But of course such moments like this would be short lived. She wanted to reply back sassily but instead she leaned back into her chair to watch it all play out. The prince was going to act and do as he wished, regardless of anyone's feelings or opinions. It was something Tate had learned in the few days of her being here. Still she needed someone to have a clear head today, and from what she could see it was going to be a long day of constant back and forth between the brothers and Tate. When Rian spoke again she moved her eyes to him briefly, catching the subtle look that no one else seemed to notice; his next words not shocking her at all.

Though it did seem to stir the council up a bit when she turned her green orbs to watch them. Some of them throwing odd glances at the new King and others whispering again about the ordeal. Yet no one else spoke up. Not to deny Rian nor Spencer of this arrangement now set in place. But it was Spencers answer that made her shift a bit. She knew exactly how he felt about the situation and yet here he was doing whatever he could to make sure Tate stayed alive. In a way doing more then Rian could. Making her wonder if maybe it bothered Rian a bit? Maybe he didn't care at all. Because how would he know that on some days and nights she was talking with his brother about things she shouldn't.

Guilt. An emotion she had never felt so profoundly racked her body to the core. Tate looking away from the prince and down at the plate in front of her. And by now she was ready to get this whole thing over with. Her body filled with nerves both from the funeral and the boys that wormed their way into her head. And maybe her heart. Another 30 minutes of the conversation which she didn't pay mind to and everyone began to stand ready to move along with the funeral. But even as she mirrored their movements, her's much more...gracefully forced then the other men that stood in the room. Clearing her Throat she waited for Rian only moving into a step behind him when he was next to her again.

//This is crappy. o.e But your good! I hope all is well on your end :) //

The air of the room was suffocating for those unaccustomed to such tensity. Spencer wondered how Tate wasn’t yet choking on the toxicity. It seemed trivial chatter had ensnared every being within the hall except for Tate and Spencer. Circumstance dictated the inability for the Prince to even make conversation with Tate, the only person beside him, and perhaps one of the few willing to tolerate his presence out of more than obligation given his status in the kingdom. Rather than spare glances in Tate’s directions and risk spurring any more spells of gossip to be unleashed in the girl's direction, the Prince simply ate. A few times he was sure he could see Rian glancing in their direction - though to whom his brother was actually looking at was something he didn’t care to know. As per his subtle observations went, Spencer was quite confident that some kind of wave of insecurity rippled in and out of the woman’s features briefly. Yet he hadn’t made any notion to turn his gaze solely onto her to be sure.

Rian’s movements silently commanded the precise movements of all those around him. He rose from the table, all other bodies followed suit. The King waved off a servant’s attempts to push in his seat behind him - rather doing the action himself, tethering his gaze to Tate’s figure as he strode in her direction. The other men in the room began filing out of the hall in cliques, their chatter never ceasing. Rian closed the several paces that had previously distanced him from Tate, the man coming to a stand-still in close proximity to her as he leaned in the direction of her ear. “You’re doing great.” He affirmed, his words merely a whisper between them before he shifted to allow a bit more space between them. Rian had opened his mouth so quickly and shut it just as fast that he wasn’t even quite sure he had opened it at all - the thought he had so briefly entertained speaking to her fleeting from his mind. And rather than saying anything at all, Rian’s gaze darted towards a window, his feet shifting towards the exit silently as he strode in that direction.

Most others - Spencer included - had already exited the room ahead of Rian. And just as his figure began to encroach further on the exit, in the span of a heartbeat he abruptly paused. A few seconds passed, his foot tapping indecisively, and he turned most of himself to Tate. “We should join hands.” He stated surely, yet his eyes betrayed him in their inquisition and insecurity as they carefully studied Tate’s features for a reaction. “It’s important to show unity between us, before the marriage comes to pass. The act of holding hands for most of this precision, I think, will make our arrangement more… settling to those who glimpse us.” Rian knew there was a mutual duty to perform for the masses between both him and Tate, and he knew she was well aware and willing to do such. Quite honestly he wasn’t sure why he was laying this on Tate as if it were some grand matter that required their utmost attention - he more than likely could have simply offered his hand, she would have taken it, and things would have been fine.

Although Rian was adamant about never making Tate feel like she was forced to do more than she already was. Rian decided it was his consideration that compelled him to communicate such a simple action to her. The gentle motion of the King swallowing came before he did finally extend his hand, a smile that bordered both being genuine and forced faintly curving at his lips. “Shall we?”

<//////>

The procession was quite louder than Rian had previously anticipated. A part of him pondered whether the sound alone ahead of him could be heard in another kingdom. It had felt like hours of walking - from the palace, and through most of the capitol’s center. He had imagined his pacing around the castle day in and day out would have prepared him enough for the walk, though he sorely misjudged the distance. In fact, the last time he had even taken this route was on horse-back. Many individuals of the capital had lined the streets to bear witness to the former King’s funeral procession, though there was more than enough of an authoritarian presence to keep any potential unruly or overzealous civilians at bay. Rian didn’t try to offer his people forced smiles - they deserved earnesty, and this was no event to smile for.

Rian was quite sure that for the entirety of the funeral - the procession, the lowering of the casket, and during his speech - that Spencer didn’t so much as crack a single smirk. It nearly made the elder brother uncomfortable, glimpsing Spencer’s eyes so steadfastly focused on something distant and intangible. But Rian made the impact for his kingdom that he had wanted to. The King would be lying if he were to say that receiving a warmer and passionate embrace of his ruling didn’t feel good and reassure him of his capabilities as their King. Would Tate receive the same satisfaction? Would she get as warm a welcome as he did? These were questions that did unsettle him a bit. It was after some time Rian gave his speech that the crowds and the procession line began dispersing - more or less by the insistence of the knight force.

Carriages were being prepared for the royals, and several stray noblemen who needed means of transportation to attend the after-service gathering at the palace. It really was just a time to receive more condolences, and for Rian to babysit drunk elitist citizens. Being allowed a moment to breathe after mingling and interacting with a few of the general public, and powerful individuals that didn’t have a place on the Council, the King began to calmly seek out the future Queen. After a few moments time his sterling stare found itself finding her figure, and Rian took no hesitation in approaching Tate. “How are your feet holding up?” He inquired with a soft smile, offering her a small tilt of his head while his hands clasped behind his back. His own feet were certainly not feeling as grand as they had amid the morning, but he wasn’t one to complain about being proactive on his feet as well.

At last the council made their way toward the exit, eager to strike any conversation that would led to new information someone else didn't have. And Tate couldn't help but catch the glance of an older council member, his pepper grey hair almost gone, the black attire the only thing making the thing strands stick out- but the smirk of his face is what had her halting her steps. Not hearing Rian step beside her until he was close to her- his whispers causing goosebumps to rise on her tanning skin, but even she wasn't sure she had heard him- his moments so quick that by the time she was going to reply he was steps away from her. She offered a small smile, nodding but it wasn't as Rian would catch it as his attention was turned to the window. As if something more interesting was going on, and perhaps in his mind there was. Sighing, Tate began to walk toward the door when he had her stopping in her tracks again, face flushing.

But it wasn't as if she hadn't held hands with his brother before, why would it be any different for him? " I uhm- okay." She hummed looking down at his tapping foot then taking his outstretched hand, her eyes meeting his briefly. "Only if we have to." She replied with a breathless laugh, walking alongside him when it was time for them to leave, everyone having already shuffled out the castle and into the courtyard. She held her head up as she walked out with Rian much more confident then before, having Rian beside her made her feel like she belonged somewhat- while being with Spencer made her miss and crave something more out of her life.

The walk to the gravesite was a quite one, Tate not really up for offering anyone support- her eyes mainly focused on the casket that was moving before her. The steady steps of the soldiers the only constant sound around her, beside the gossip of the towns people 'lucky' enough to catch a glimpse of the new King and Queen. But Tate also didn't mind the background chatter, it was another comfort to her beside the hand she was currently gripping onto. She only let go when he needed to move to start the speech, and not that she didn't want to hear it she just didn't listen to a word that was being said. Instead, her eyes were burning holes into the casket even after it was placed into the ground. Hatred, an emotion Tate wasn't willing to let go because then what else would be there? The fleeting joy she felt when having a private moment with the brothers? Or maybe the constant fear of letting herself lose control. Either way, Tate couldn't help but shuffle on her feet every now and then, both because the shoes she was wearing currently were digging into her soles and the long walk that caused her anxiety to spike up.

She let out of breath of relief when Rian walked up to her again, having left her standing under some sort of tent- while the grave diggers began to prepare the ground for the King resting in a chestnut box. "My feet are going to fall off- or I'm going to have about ten blisters." She huffed, shrugging "But I don't want to be the one to complain especially around so many listening ears." She hummed, looking up at him with a brief smile. "How are you holding up?" She asked glancing toward the other brother who was still staring off into the distance. Part of her wanting to go to him and drag him away from here- because the look and emotion she was feeling from him was breaking her own heart. Maybe others didn't see it but Tate did. And even when he tried to hide it and deny it she still knew. Returning her gaze back to Rian, she tilted her head "You look exhausted."

--I tried to make this as long as I could Almost got 700words.//

Rian hummed in consideration of Tate’s words, which were fair enough considering he was no stranger to how simply spoken words can be twisted far out of context by eavesdroppers. Before he could offer any sympathies to her, Tate asked how he was doing, and he had briefly forgotten how to respond to that question not often divulged to him. “Fine,” he assured with the return of a smile, even despite the fact he didn’t exactly feel as composed internally as he led everyone to believe. The first time he had grieved the loss of a loved one was detrimental and character-defining, for both him and Spencer, so at least time he knew what to expect of the process. Maybe Rian was also primarily alone in mourning his father, he knew he wasn’t the best person, but regardless, he was still the man who had raised him.

Catching the direction Tate’s gaze had drifted, Rian mirrored the act only to find she was settling her sight on his brother. Outwardly sighing, he couldn’t deny he felt a notion of his own to at least offer a few words of comfort to his younger sibling, and yet he knew with certainty that nothing he could say would alleviate the things Spencer was both feeling and experiencing. Rian was the last person the blond would ever care to pay mind to, but Spencer would always be his little brother, whether he made peace with that fact or not. And it hurt Rian all the same to see him in strife, and being helpless to aid him.

Shifting his attention back to Tate, his brows briefly furrowed before his lips fell into a straighter line. “I was hoping that fact wasn’t abundantly apparent,” he murmured. Did he really look that tired? Maybe he did, and now that he was more conscious of the fact, he wouldn’t be able to stop focusing on putting more thought into his presentation for the rest of the day. “You’re not wrong though,” the brunet added, “I’m willing to admit that hosting an after-service at all is not among the things I desire to do, but I can only stray so far from tradition following the former King’s death if I wish to maintain a positive reputation among the court and citizens alike,” Rian said, earnestly expressing how little his heart was in this matter, but duty was always his guiding hand.

As their own mean of transportation arrived, Rian offered his arm to Tate to escort her to the carriage, sparing a glance toward Spencer while addressing Tate. “He’ll be alright,” Rian stated, as if he might have been trying to assure himself of the matter more than he was assuring Tate before he resumed his attention to guiding them to the carriage. Once they were inside together, Rian allowed himself the luxury to drop his shoulders and relax into the comfort of his seated position. This would likely be the only opportunity until he retired to his chambers for the night to permit himself to be in a more relaxed state. Naturally, rather than occupy himself with his own various weights and woes, his gaze tethered to Tate.

“How are you doing?” He asked with sincere compassion. “I imagine funerals in themselves have a not-so-fun way of dampening everyone’s moods. I feel poorly for having to expose you to such an atmosphere.” With his hands fumbling to clasp before they landed on his lap, Rian suddenly felt unsure of his mannerisms. He had been questioning his every word and move with Tate since he had proposed for them to hold hands. Had it been too forceful of a request? Too soon to establish such close amiability? While he regarded himself as someone gifted in terms of reading people and rooms, with Tate he wasn’t sure what to make of himself and his actions and how they truly affected her. As anxious as it made him to be received poorly, the last thing he wanted was to unknowingly foster any tension or contempt in her perception of him.

Tate tilted her head, only briefly to study him to make sure he wasn't just saying he was fine. But then again Rian was the master at hiding his emotions, Spencer included. But she didn't push it further, the little trust they gained with each other was fragile, but at least it was there . It only reminded her of the promise to his brother. To not speak on her own father's death, to anyone- even Rian. Especially him. It made her wonder if he would believe it, as they stood there and watched his father be lowered into the ground. Then buried with dirt. She caught the sigh that was about to pass her lips, straightening her shoulders- after all appearance was everything for her right now. One wrong impression and she could very well help start chaos in the castle.

The council already were on their toes around her, and they were definitely waiting for her to slip up and make the wrong move. They were wolves waiting for the slaughter, if she let them. Tate forced her thoughts to a stop when he spoke again, almost regretting that she had even commented on how tired he seemed to be and look. The fact he admitted it was even shocking to Tate. She had almost forgotten about the after-party, celebration for the Former King and his life. She smiled, shaking her head "Well, I hope I can help somewhat there. If you get too tired, I'll make some girly excuse and ask for you to accompany me back." She mused, "You don't have to be..Him all the time." She added softly, referring to his father. Sure, being King was hard work- busy work but everyone deserved a little grace. She wondered if the Princes had ever gotten that.

When the carriage arrived Tate took his arm, her eyes not helping themselves as they landed back to his brother. Spencer was always alone, standing away from the crowds unless he was forced. Her heart went out to him, only because she wished the same for herself. The crowds of people that were always around didn't help her anxiety- though Tate always did her best to hide it. Rian deserved someone who could stand by his side without fear; and that's exactly what she was trying to be. At Rian's comment she turned her attention back to him, only to find his own attention was on Spencer. "You will too." She whispered, taking his hand and help as she climbed up into the carriage.

She sat opposite of him, her hands neatly folded in her lap appearing calm when really she was screaming for an escape. Hoping for one. None would come. Not now or ever, the sooner she accepted it the better off she was. So again she squared her shoulders even as Rian relaxed some. She wished he could always be this way, with her and everyone. And again, she felt pity for them; but she would be the same soon enough. Time in the courts and castle would leave her bitter if she let it. TAte thought they were going to ride in silence until Rian broke it by asking her if she was fine.

"How are you doing?" That kinda question stopped her, because she was fine. Her world was still spinning and she was still forcing a smile, so Tate was okay. But then sometimes she wasn't. Especially late at night when no one came knocking at her door, when she lay in bed thinking of all the ways she had plotted the princes death before. Just in spite of their father, who was now buried six feet under and still protected by a palace guard. Apparently even the dead needed protecting. Looters did exist and it would not be unheard of to try and snatch jewels from the Crowned family, even in their graves. And sometimes, when Rian and the others sat and ate she couldn't find it in herself to do the same. Only because she was to busy wondering if her father ever sat at this table, ate the same foods she did; and wondered where it went wrong. What did her father do to deserve dying at the hands of the Former King? What did the Former Kings sons' do to deserve her hatred, besides having a father who took her own. It didn't help that looking at Rian was almost looking at the Former King, his eyes the same intense color as his late father's. Tate did her best to remind herself that he was not his father, but then Spencer would come around and everything she thought she knew about Rian, she would end up questioning because he knew things. Things about everyone. Including his brother, she only wondered what that was.

And he would never indulge her, nor her thoughts about their relationship. Or what little of one they had. It was between the brothers, another reminder she kept tucked away in her mind. "I-Im fine." She finally answered, not wanting to worry him any more by her stunned silence. "I am more worried about you to worry about myself. It's not my father being buried today, nor having to host a party because of it.." She trailed off wondering if maybe she shouldn't have said that. Wincing, she bit her lip, "We never really spoke about how you and your father were, if you were close." She hummed, "Regardless he was your father, so you deserve some..comfort in knowing he is resting now." She replied before leaning back into the cushioned seat. It didn't go by her that he was fidgety, not knowing what to do around her- which in turn made her flush. Knowing she made him nervous in some way. "You don't have to be so formal around me you know? I am going to be your wife, and eventually we will have to produce an Heir.." She flushed even redder; tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 'Perhaps that was a bit forward.' Fate thought sourly- pursing her lips closed as to not further embarrass herself.

For a brief moment, Rian was humored by Tate’s proposal of making some excuse on a whim for him to be given a proper reason to leave. That amusement faltered at her next comment referring to his father, albeit not enough to convey the entirety of his mood had altered. “If only that were entirely true,” Rian replied with a somber smile. There was very little room to stray from being the exact mold of a ruler his father had made him to be. Outside of the identity he was groomed to possess, Rian wasn’t so sure he had any other complex aspects to himself, and he didn’t want to disappoint himself by trying to find what may not exist. Rian was a product of his title, and quite frankly, he often felt like he was more of a tool - a thing - rather than a human being.

Rian had naturally tried to decipher Tate’s response to his simple question for any buried subtext beneath her response. Things are rarely what they ever present themselves on the surface. People aren’t superficial, most of them anyway, but Rian chided himself for redirecting his own turmoil by trying to silently unravel Tate’s words. Not expressing particular discomfort as Tate further mentioned his father and the nature of their relationship, the brunet gave it brief thought before addressing the comments. “I do take comfort in his rest. I don’t think he was ever a happy man, not really. Looking back, I think we must have both shared in very similar feelings about ruling, among other things. The unfortunate thing, in my opinion, is that he never found a proper way to be at peace, especially after my mother’s passing.” Rian sighed.

“As for our relationship, it wasn’t perfect, and we weren’t close in a traditional sense. As his son, I was always more of a pawn to his legacy rather than a child to adore. I assume it was how his father had raised him, and how his father’s father raised him, and so on. Despite it all, I loved him and sought to make him proud, sometimes in ways I myself am not proud of.” Rian didn’t elaborate further, but his relationship with his father was complicated. It was a fierce push and pull between love and hate, although not as volatile as his current relationship with his brother.

It was more difficult than he had previously anticipated to share things he’d never previously said out loud. The entire concept of personal communication was foreign, uncomfortable even. More so with how strangely he felt with everything the funeral had evoked in him. As Tate began to assure him that he needn’t be so formal around her, tension came creeping back into his entire being as she finished the sentence. An heir. It was a thought that spurred him to avert his gaze to the side. If it weren’t an expectation, Rian didn't ever see himself as anyone who would ever want a family. There was hardly enough time in a day for him to accomplish everything that needed his attention every given day, and it didn’t seem fair to only have time for a child when it became necessary to groom one.

“Even knowing for years that it would be a fate I would be forced to face, I’ve still never been quite able to grasp the vision of me ever having children.” He admitted, and while this would be a rather important discussion eventually, he knew it wasn’t one to explore in full with Tate yet. “For now at least, I’d much rather settle into the idea and reality of having a wife before I begin to worry about certain expectations our union will come with,” Rian said with an uncomfortable smile.

<//////////>

Within the Adarlan castle, it was an impossible feat to deduce the kingdom was in mourning for the king they had buried only hours prior. The grand hall was filled with a horde of nobles eating, drinking, dancing, and being utterly merry. A stark contrast to the otherwise grim day. Rian had left the decor, receiving of guests, and otherwise menial details to his advisor who had promptly orchestrated the layout and setup of the event during the funeral. While Rian hadn’t changed out of his darker attire, it seemed that everyone he had no choice but to entertain or converse with after having to depart himself from Tate when they had arrived back did. The act of wearing such bright, and lively clothing bordered a thin line between disrespect and the acceptance of ushering in a new era with a new ruler. For the sake of remaining cordial, Rian chose to accept the change of clothing as the latter option.

There were few entities who chose to remain in articles of clothing that reflected mourning, including the majority of the council, but most surprisingly, the youngest prince of the nation had not stripped himself of the grim wear. Spencer’s temperament was mild even as he conversed with the few people he found worthy of his attention. Of course, the younger prince always had his own fair share of suggested proposals and suitors from other nobles looking to ally their families with royalty. This event was an opportunity for eager families to introduce their daughters or further throw the idea of engagements around now that Rian was completely unobtainable. Not that Spencer hated all of the attention, or the flirting games it entailed, but the blond had no real interest in pursuing anything that involved concrete commitment.

“Surely you must fancy the Levette girl, quite the looker if you were to ask me,” a knight Spencer had chosen to stand beside and converse with said, gesturing with a chalice of wine in the direction of a red-haired young woman.

“I never said I didn’t,” Spencer replied casually, “you’re just jealous I could have anyone I desired in this room at the drop of a hat.” The prince jested, though in truth his gaze was less so focused on any sole female. He was still on duty, after all, even if it seemed unlikely anyone would make an attempt on Tate’s life in such a crowded and jiving atmosphere. Even so, Spencer made careful consideration to watch for anyone out of place, and to survey Tate, albeit nonchalantly.

“And yet here you are,” the knight countered with a smug countenance, nursing his drink.

“And yet,” Spencer nodded, pondering whether he would treat himself to the same liquid poison that promised some fraction of artificial joy. He found some peace in visiting his mother’s grave after most individuals had abandoned the burial grounds, but ultimately found it in his own best interest to detach himself from his own feelings in the meantime. Spencer knew all too well he couldn’t escape the emotional toll the day had on him forever, but even for a few more hours, he could at least pretend he felt nothing.

Tate could only wish he had loved his own father the way she had loved hers. With her whole heart and more. It was a shame that the boys father had never really shown them an ounce of what real unconditional love was. But maybe that made Tate the weak one. Love destroys people too, and at the mention of his father never moving on from his mother- she somewhat felt for him. Because her own father had never moved on from her mother's death, even going so far as to name Tate after her. Instead of commenting back she let the topics switch. Today was a dark day already, no need to make it worse by her own words. But the next topic was not one that was better and Tate instantly regretted even bringing up a child.

Not that she had wanted one herself but rather knew one day it would expected. From where she sat across from Rian he did not seem to want any. Ever. She wasn't sure why that bothered her, but perhaps it was for the best. Bringing a child into this mess was concerning. The council would have a field day with that one. So again she only nodded forcing a smile to her features before he could figure out what was going on behind those eyes of hers.

-------

The party was in full swing, people were dancing and milling about; the maids coming and going to make sure that everyone stayed satisfied. The drinks were plentiful, not that Tate indulged herself. There were to many watching eyes, and the last thing she needed was to grab a drink to start everyone's rumors. She had been approached alot standing next to Rian, so conversation was already starting to get under her skin. She wasn't used to the court gossip because it never ran out. There was always something else to be said, lied about. It didn't help that she had to change into more black clothing when arriving back. According to the maids Tate would have a dress for each occasion, different in style and color. This one was cinched at the waist, giving her little breathing room as she moved about the floors of the dining hall; waiting for just one chance to make a break for the outside walls. She could feel her anxiety spiking up as she again was addressed, "Is your family coming to the wedding?" One of the councils asked, bushy brows caught in a frown. Tate shifted her weight to her other foot, which was cramping in the heels she wore; "Rian and I haven't discussed that just yet. But I do hope so, they would love to see where I've been these past few days." She hummed in reply, keeping her voice neutral, cool. It was the second time someone asked that question while a frown etched into their face and while it bothered Tate she would never say anything. Not to them or Rian. Tate knew that none of the council member's would be pleased to welcome her or her family for that matter in the castle with open and loving arms. That was too much to ask. But she couldn't dent the sting of pain each time a council member looked down their nose at her. All because of her bloodline.

After three hours into the whole dancing and gossiping scene Tate was beyond ready to retire to her own quarter's; her feet aching from both the walk to the burial sight and the shoes. She bit her lip, looking up at Rian briefly "I will be right back. I just need to sit down for a few." She said softly not waiting for his own reply before making her exit. The hallways were quiet, no one really moving about the rest of the castle besides the guards of course. She didn't mind it however, and continuing the small trek to the gardens she had come to love she enjoyed the silence of the world; the laughter of the after-party a mute sound behind her. Once outside Tate moved to one of the many benched in the garden; this one next to a large willow tree where she took a seat and let the breath she had been holding out. It didn't leave her mind that she could very well be attacked from outside the walls of the castle; especially now when everyone was distracted but if stayed another minute in a party where everyone looked at her as an object instead of someone with a beating heart; Tate would have started to scream at them.

How could they judge someone just because of their family, just to help themselves feel better about themselves? Tate didn't know why she let it bother her so much, perhaps it was because how she was raised. To love everyone regardless of who they were and how they were raised. Perhaps that was why she connected so well with both boys. It was scary, that part. Knowing that Spencer could out her at any given moment but trusting him

enough to not. He was the son of a man who killed her father, and yet he was trying to help her figure out why. For what purpose. Which brought her thinking as to why she was engaged to a man that she had never met; her father however did. But the motive was just not there. Or maybe it was the council? Did they have something to do with it and the King didn't even know? After all well fed devils behave better than famished saints. What reason did the former King have to kill her father? What did he gain from it? No thought could come up as for a reason, to lost on her own thoughts Tate did not hear the footsteps heading her way.

((leaving it this way for which ever boy decides to come out ;3 also apogize for the horrible quality of this o.e, I'll do better.))

(All good lol)

Rian had only just opened his mouth to respond to Tate’s verbal announcement of her departure as she turned away from him. Deciding not to call after her for the sake of not bringing any unwarranted attention to her, Rian reluctantly let her go. He would have liked to think that her absence gave him the perfect excuse for himself to leave, but the heir to the throne not present during the after-service of his own father’s funeral was surely to be seen negatively. Having to choose between duty and personal desire was a choice that was unfortunately not as complicated as Rian wished it was, because in the end, he knew he really only ever could choose duty beyond what he wanted.

Spencer had decided while he treated himself to buttered biscuits that Tate’s most annoying quality was that she very absentmindedly put herself in harm’s way. Being in a crowd, he assumed at least, was safest for her. And yet he watched with disapproval as she left. With an internal groan, and unwilling to abandon his snacks, Spencer took the whole biscuit platter with him as he casually exited the way Tate had in a slow pursuit of her. If he were an assassin right now, he couldn’t help but think that this would be an easy job. Especially as he encroached on where she sat in the garden, an eerily quiet place compared to the former space they were both in.

“I’m beginning to think you may have a death wish,” Spencer commented with an amused tone, allowing a moment that granted Tate ample time to recover from any startle he might have spurred. Seems how that most of their interactions began with his presence startling her. Not caring to ask whether his company was wanted or not, Spencer took it upon himself to sit beside her, extending the small biscuit platter he had toward her. “I don’t think you’ve eaten much today,” he stated his assumption with confidence, his blue eyes insisting she took what he offered. “Sharing is caring, so I’ve heard, and I could really use an excuse to not find justification in eating them all by myself.” While he was aware people could be known for ‘eating their feelings’, Spencer preferred the idea that being so active is what put his frequent eating habit in motion. It’s not like he didn’t turn around and burn off everything he ate, anyway. Unlike most men of status.

“I think it’s also worth noting that you make it unnecessarily easy for someone who may want to kill you to get that opportunity,” the blond said, reclining into the bench laxly and setting the platter on his lap. It was quiet out here, and he concluded that must have been a decent contributor to why she escaped the otherwise loud scene within the castle. Flicking his gaze around their surroundings, more bored by the atmosphere than at peace, Spencer shifted his attention back to the girl beside him.

“You know, I owe you so much gratitude,” he began with a subtle smirk, “now that Rian is no longer the kingdom’s most sought-after eligible bachelor, it means oh so suddenly that I’m a very hot commodity among the upper class. Truly, I’m amazed how people who have never been fond of me now wish to make friends, if only to sway me into fawning over their daughters, and nieces, and what have you. They act like I’m the one who would have something to gain, but between you and me,” Spencer lowered his tone conspiratorily, glancing around as if his gossip might be overheard. “Most of these available girls look too much like their fathers for me to stomach, I couldn’t imagine taking a wife who looks more masculine than I do.” He chuckled lightly, but he wasn’t exaggerating. Why women of noble blood were often uglier than the common girls, Spencer would never understand. Although it only proved money could not buy beauty, and it mattered very little how many layers of makeup they caked their faces with, ugly is ugly.

“Rian is lucky he has someone with enviable looks. I mean, you’ll be absolutely loathed by other women your entire life, but you can take pleasure in knowing you have the beauty and status they never will.” He said, offering some sincerity as his gaze briefly studied her countenance. While he was far less inclined to want to handle what today meant to him, Spencer knew he was the only one around for miles who understood why the celebration of the former King’s death could leave a sour taste in Tate’s mouth. Despite their varying reasons for hating his father, he felt more connected, understood even, with Tate. A part of him considered that he might have been jealous of Rian, because he earnestly didn’t believe he deserved her, and that Tate didn’t deserve this kind of life. Aside from the privileges that came with royalty, and not having to squire to ascend in rank within the knightly forces, Spencer could never say there was much content to be had in this kind of life. While the more vengeful side of him had always wanted to see the throne topple into his grasp, he didn’t actually want to be tied down to the nation. In another life, he would have been happy with less. Maybe if the entirety of his family had been nothing but peasants, it wouldn’t be in ruins, and maybe he would know more than fleeting happiness.

Tate sighed, her own thoughts a battle with her emotions. It was no surprise that she nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Spencers voice. Her heart was a galloping horse, even as he sat beside her- his remark not helping her sour mood much. "Maybe I do." She hummed before turning toward him, eying the trey of biscuits in his lap; her brows raising. "Someone is going to miss those." She teased taking one of the fluffy and buttery delights. "Thank you." She added softly sinking her teeth into the biscuit. She took that time to observe the many flowers starting to bloom regardless of the dark day that was currently happening. It was his next comment that had her snorting, her eyes rolling as she met him with a glare, "As you have said before. But what else am supposed to do all night besides Rian? Stand there like a doll? I'll have the rest of my life to do that." She muttered in response shrugging.

It was a beat of silence before he started talking again, this time in regard to his own hand in marriage, "You didn't seem to mine the attention, at least from the ladies." She mused throwing him a sideways glance only to find him already studying her. She flushed, looking away- only to burst into laughter. "Wasn't that an issue before? Though I suppose if the King didn't have me the attention would still be on him; and not you finding a bride now." She paused, laughing harder when he went on to further insult their looks. Not that it wasn't true, most ladies she found beautiful were both pretty inside and out. Though the laughed died out when he complimented her. At least in Spencers way of doing so. She blinked at him as if she was seeing a ghost, a deeper blush creeping up her neck and cheeks. Even Rian hadn't so boldly told her she was pretty. Yet Spencer had. She wasn't sure what to think then, shifting next to him to face him- "Was that a compliment?" She nearly whispered, her voice a low murmur.

It turned her thoughts back to an emotional turmoil. Because while Rian expected her to be Queen, Spencer didn't expect anything from her. And what Tate wanted more than anything was to be seen not as a one day Queen but as Tate Beth Summers. Not what they wanted to see, what they wanted her to be. Maybe Tate loved to deeply; cared to much- anyone could see it in her eyes where she kept all the hearts she put ahead of her own. Which was why Tate stood next, biting her lip "Should we head back inside? I'm sure the rumors will start if anyone notices I'm gone for too long." She muttered, almost sad to leave this moment with him. Because Spencer was slowly becoming someone she knew she could lean on, and speak freely too. "I never did thank you, for keeping my secret. For helping me. Even if you don't notice what you do, I see you Spence." She hummed dipping her head.

//ouf this is really short. Sorry, Im around folks.//

There was a heartwrenching parallel Spencer found between Tate’s situation and his mother’s. Both were arranged to be wed to Kings, and both Queens were more accessories and tools to earn favor among the common folk, or at least that’s what Tate would become. There was so much heart between the two women though, too much, and Spencer was the same. Only he became a product of the aftermath of a broken heart. He was bitter and angry because he couldn’t stop feeling. Even when he pretended he was indifferent to the feelings of everyone and everything around him. Tate’s feelings specifically appealed to him though, in a way he should have been concerned by considering how quickly he had abandoned his principles of maintaining a cold wall around himself.

While he had smiled to himself at her first handful of spoken words, he gestured to the garden they were seated within after her remark about being at Rian’s side. “Or, you can be you, and sit around in boring places when you don’t feel like being a showpiece on the arm of a King.” He jested lightly. Spencer didn’t deny that he enjoyed the attention of other women either, though he considered there to be very few men his age who didn’t. “The attention will always be on him, I just so happen to be a brief pawn in a game of rank I’m refusing to play into because I don’t care to.” He replied, but even this kind of attention Spencer had now would be minimal very soon. Even if he had decided to announce a surprise engagement to some girl tonight, the kingdom had eyes on the impending wedding between Rian and Tate. Spencer would always be a second thought.

The blond had noted the alteration of Tate’s complexion, even in the darker setting they were in and he had to physically force his grin to not twist into a smirk set to a higher caliber. The way she had looked at him after his compliment wasn’t so strange though, Tate didn’t seem like the kind of woman to receive the kind of compliments she was entitled to. Nobody who deserved the best usually got it, not in his experience anyway. As she shifted closer, Spencer’s gaze held hers hostage for a few seconds as she whispered, not denying granting himself the comfort of shifting his arm to rest on the back of the bench as he dared an inch closer. “You don’t need me to tell you that it was,” he replied, more aware of the spike in pace his heart was at in his chest.

This girl was very much a complication to the feelings he didn’t want to believe he was capable of, because anything of this nature was only promised to end in hurt. Although Spencer had a hard time separating the lessons of the past and the curiosity of the present right now. Before he could come to an impulse decision, Tate had already stood, and his eyes fell to her lips as she spoke words he wasn’t entirely fond of hearing at the moment. Moving the biscuit tray aside and rising as well, the blond made little effort to be anything but blunt. “You’re pitifully adorable for thinking too soon that you need to live your life based on what people may or may not say about you. The girl you are now will be lost sooner rather than later if the threat of gossip keeps you on a puppet string, and I don’t need another Queen to mourn.” People speak ill of Kings and Queens no matter whether they’re good or bad, so why does it matter to care about what people say as long as you live by your own compass? It’s something Spencer would never understand about the way Rian lived, or maybe his brother had just been too consumed by image to appreciate and understand what was really worth being bothered by.

At Tate’s ode of a thank you though, Spencer was a bit taken aback. It’s not something he had expected, and it showed. “I see you too,” Spencer replied, sighing as he took her hand firmly but only to express he wouldn’t allow her to leave. Not yet, at least. “I see the suffering in silence you endure, I see how much you yearn to be at home, or at the very least with your family. I see how tortured you are with every breath you’re forced to take in the former home of the man who took your father from you. And yet you smile, you don’t complain. I don’t understand that part of you, but I admire it.” Shaking his head with a sigh, Spencer killed the small gap of distance between them as he stepped closer and lowered his head.