As always her thoughts were at war with her heart, because she wanted to stay. But she knew she shouldn't. She huffed a deep breath; her eyes locking with Spencers. "We both know it's not that easy. While you can just ignore the title you have I cannot. Everyone expects something of me, I can't just..ignore them to make myself happy. Not if they deserve more." It was a fact, one that stung but always rung true. Besides, her father would want her to take this and make the best of it; regardless of whatever confusion Spencer gave her. But then again was Spencer said was true, She knew that too. She couldn't live her life based of what everyone else wanted from her; but what other choice did she have at the moment? It was either this or live a life not as Tate. But as someone who ran away from a wish her father granted her. A coward. "I don't want to run from my duties. My family, what's left of them are counting on me." She finally expressed, her lip catching in her teeth. "I'm not sure what I would have left if I didn't follow through with what's expected of me. I'm wildly afraid of disappointing everyone I hold close." She was close to breaking down.

But Tate refused in front of anyone, much less Spencer. Not that he would judge her but simply because she didn't want to be looked at as weak. But again, he confirmed what she thought of his compliment- again making her blush; looking away quickly. She wasn't sure how to process that bit of information. Hell. What was she even doing entertaining the thought of running off with Spencer, her future husband's brother. It was another reason she had to put some distance between them; and stood. Only for him to follow suit, continuing with a shower of words that she was almost positive she was hallucinating. Because surely, Spencer was not flirting with her. Not tonight of all nights. "Are you..alright?" She asked, a frown etched between her eyebrows. Confused was an understatement.

Maybe he was drunk, or had fallen ill. But he didn't seem to show symptoms of either making her all the more a jumbled emotional mess. She blinked back up at him, "I'm not entirely sure what to do here Spencer. I am lost in a sea of wolves. I'm not sure I'm fit to be Queen to these people. I'm not sure how to stand my ground with the Council without causing an outright riot against your brother. Because one wrong word from me, and your brother's entire Reign could end." She whispered. Afraid. "And if you are caught helping me..trying to find something almost treason against your father..I'm to blame here." She uttered, her eyes falling to the hand he so willingly held onto. As if it was an instinct to him. Until he said words she had only dreamed of- for someone to see her too. But did she believe him?

His words continued to have an effect on her she wasn't willing to accept just yet. Especially when he held onto her hand as if he was afraid she would walk away. Like he needed her as much as she needed anyone. And when he closed the distance between them, his head inches from her own- her heart skipped a few beats. Her breathing coming to a hitch, "You didn't fail anyone, They failed you. For not seeing how it destroyed you to be blamed for something you could not control. I'm sorry no one else sees that you hurt too." She squeezed his hand, a lone tear falling from her eyes. "I'm grateful you trust me just as I trust you." She added softly, smiling for the first time in a long time- genuinely. And of all people Spencer was the one to draw it from her.

She hadn't realized she shifted closer to him until they were nearly sharing breaths. Her chest brushing his with each breath she took, and her heart was like a horse racing in a field- like the day he took her into town. She was a breathless mess, one that had tears brimming to her eyes because she was not deserving of someone like him. And he had deserved more for everyone, especially his brother. And for some reason she wanted to scream at Rian, 'just look at your brother- look at how amazing and sweet he really can be if you just had given him a chance.' But she knew nothing she would ever say or do would mend what was broken between them. As sad as that fact was. "I wish everyone else could see just how amazing you really are, You hide that because you're scared to be hurt. But that's the most amazing part of you." She hummed, blinking up at him. And for a second she wished it was Spencer she were forced to marry instead of Rian. And maybe she was being too bold for stating it, but the words were out of Tate's mouth before she could stop them, "I wish it were you..." She whispered into the starry night- where only the animals could hear the silent conversation they had. One Tate would always think of in the late hours of the nights ahead.

There was a brief clench in Spencer’s jaw sourcing from frustration that he could not simply discard. It would be so much easier if he could just say that yes, she could ignore a title that was not hers yet and choose her own happiness. Although those words would mean nothing, because Tate was shackled by morality and fears that were so much more valid than he wanted to agree with. “And you don’t deserve more? How much of yourself will you sacrifice before you do something you want?” What he really meant was how much of herself would she give before there was nothing left? Kindness was not an ever-flowing fountain, not even for Saints, there is give and take. Tate was too much of a giver, and maybe Spencer had become too much of a taker. The blond sighed as she expressed her fear of disappointing her family, and running from her duties. Doesn’t real family encourage their loved ones to do what makes them happy though? But he chose not to say that to avoid coming across as insensitive to her concerns.

Following her question regarding his well-being, Spencer’s brows knitted tightly together. “What?” He asked, unsure of whether he might have looked ill or if he should take some fraction of offense to the question. “I’m pretty sound of mind if that’s what you mean,” he added, but just in case his appearance was to blame for the question, he ran his fingers through his hair to ensure any touseled disarray was back in order. The more she spoke though, the more aware of just how truly frightened she was became more apparent to him. And he realized all the more that there was actually very little Spencer could do about her predicament. At most, if she wanted to get away from it all, he could only tell her to run, but that would not promise a comfortable life either. “I won’t get caught,” he addressed first, “and you may be lost but you’re not alone. Not completely.” He said, and while he hated to admit it, if she wanted to pursue her role as Queen in the best way possible, Rian was her best ally on that front.

Spencer’s more passionately intense gaze softened at her next words, finding them painful in a positive sense. There would always be a part of himself that would be forever haunted by the single action that became the catalyst for so much agony, even knowing the simple thing he had done never had any ill intent behind it. Yet he was painted a monster, and somewhere along the way his perception of himself and the way others perceived him had blurred, and he was forever changed. Even Tate’s reassurance, as much as it had touched him, did not change the carnage that wreaked havoc over him. Similar to how nothing he said would ever really change her situation and torment. Though as a tear cascaded down her face, and she extended the line of trust to him, he met her smile with his own. Following such, Spencer raised his other hand to rest on the side of her face, his thumb brushing away the stain of the tear while his other fingers were faintly nestled into the locks of her hair.

“If everyone knew I was so amazing, you wouldn’t be feeling so special right now, would you?” He countered in a tone that was meant to be a tease but fell short with how soft his voice had fallen now that they were so close. Tate wasn’t entirely wrong though, and he knew if he had any real sense he should have been afraid she saw through him the way that she currently did. The next words she whispered to him though spurred a light constriction in his chest, something that made him feel entirely still and electric at once. “I wish it was me,” he murmured solemnly in response, before he acted on how he felt and connected his lips to hers. As his eyes closed, his hand holding hers held it tighter, while the one on her face ventured further into her hair to gently cradle the back of her head as he kissed her, not something he regretted even as he fully comprehended the result of his impulsiveness. For a moment, he really thought this feeling, this might be what it felt like to be happy. To be at peace.

Even if the world had erupted in flames in the exact same moment, Spencer had the brief sense that he would be okay. It would all be okay. And that was a feeling he felt was dangerous to cling to, yet he didn’t let it go, not even as he broke away to intake a breath his lungs had barely any room for with how large his heart felt in his chest. “Is this the part where I get slapped?” He smiled, his light chuckle a breathy sound as his blue eyes journeyed into her gaze, looking for any tell that she felt even a fraction of what he might of.

Tate watched as each word sunk in for him, and her both personally. This was going to be her life forever or she could try snd run from something that was out of her control. Hopeless. That's what Tate felt standing there, grasping onto Spencer's hand afraid that if he let go there wouldn't be much else to keep her afloat here. Rian was..different in many ways not that Tate wanted to compare them in any way. Rian was almost as helpless as she felt due to no fault of his own. She wouldn't have expected him to chase after her and he wouldn't have. It was the reason Spencer stood here and not his brother. Not her future husband. In all honestly Tate wanted to scream at that moment, but how unlady like would that have been for her? Anyone within hearing vicinity would think the girl had gone mad. Surely that would be the Council the fuel they needed to bring her and Rian down once and for all.

Why did her life have to be so complicated? She missed the days where she didn't have to wear corsets or dresses for that matter- where tunics and pants did just fine especially while riding bare back on a horse twice her size. Tate missed the freedom she had most of all, not having to be followed around- unless it was Spencer she didn't really mind; the other guards...not so much. She let herself laugh however he ran his hands through his hair the action more like Rian than he realized, "No Your fine, I know that but your..I don't know-.." She paused briefly, if only to hear him speak more. His voice bringing her comfort she hadn't realized she wanted nor needed. Was Tate getting..lonely? Her laughter died out when he brought up looking for facts against the former King, her chest tight- "If you are caught Spence they won't hesitate to throw Rian off the throne." She whispered back, her throat wanting to close up with all the emotions running rampant in the air.

Had she lost ever her loving mind? Especially when anyone could walk out and see them standing this close under the moonlight; word would spread quickly how she vexed both the prince and King. Because how could a commoner be cared for by anyone other than her family or some other 'low life'. She did not deserve them. Not then and not now. She hadn't even realized what was happening before his hands were on her face; cradling her impossibly closer to him, warmth spreading across her entire body, "No I suppose not, Guess I'm the lucky one." She hummed quietly, and when his lips meet her's- the world went quiet. The kiss was nothing like she had ever experienced, not that she had much when it came to men or boys. Her stomach was filled with butterflies, her own heart still galloping inside of her chest- skipping a few beats.

At first it was sweet, then it became urgent like they both had needed some kind of release and this was possibility not the best idea. And as Spencer pulled away, she opened her eyes again to find him studying her. Like she was a lost book or toy he hadn't seen in years. Tate was sure her whole body was as red as a tomato as she stepped away from him; putting the much needed distance between them. "No. But it's the part where I say we should not have done that. Im marrying your brother." She choked out, her throat closing up as tears yet again threatened to spill over. She only wished things weren't so..screwed. Because how could she live her life with Rian knowing her heart was falling for another person; and not just anyone. Spencer. "I..I'm sorry." She stuttered before turning away and rushing back inside the castle. It wasn't long before she found herself back in the loud room; laughter filling every space of it. Tate however was battling something much deeper, a something that could wreck her world upside down if she let it. She was more afraid what they would do to the boys if anyone found out about the kiss shared between Tate and the younger brother. It would be the scandal that ruined her. And them.

Tate could hear the rumors now, everyone making a joke out of the Queen of Ardalan. The Former Queen would never be caught kissing someone who was not her intended betrothed, Tate couldn't afford to let that happen either. Her family was counting on her, the poor of this town were counting on her to make a real change- not one the Council spun to benefit them or their pockets. And Rian did not deserve her cheating, lying to him. It was another secret she would share with the younger brother. One that would have her thinking all hours of the night ahead. Which led Tate to her next decision of grabbing a chalice of wine for herself, not bothering to care if anyone talked more about her. Let them. Tate could not handle standing here next to Rian another second after what she had just done. Which was another reason she drank the wine quickly, placing the cup back on a trey as it swung by offering more drinks. That was one thing the castle has ample supply of- and Tate planned on drinking until she couldn't anymore. Until someone forced her to stop; like they forced everything else in her life.

Perhaps Tate was becoming bitter because she couldn't have the one thing she truly wanted for herself. And that was choosing a husband she wanted, not one that was chosen for her. Forced upon her. Tate was silent next to Rian, her own thoughts bringing her down- dragging her under a current she wasn't sure she would ever be free from. Why did Tate let Spencer kiss her? Why did she like it so much that she wanted him to do it over and over again just because. Why did she wish that it was Him instead of the brother standing next to her when Rian had done nothing to her; besides support her in his own way. Tate wanted to just chalk the kiss off as simple attraction between them- but in her heart she knew it was because Spencer cared. Even if he would never admit it, or Tate herself wouldn't. She cared for both of them, and her life would only become more complicated if she let it. Not being able to stand next to Rian and act like everything was fine, Tate looked up at the older brother with a heavy sigh- "I think it's time for me to retire to my bed. If you don't mind of course?" She asked- her eyes locking with his briefly before traveling to find the other brother; hoping she hadn't hurt him the way she was hurting. And no matter how much Tate tried to not get hurt herself- it was just not that easy.

Of all the acts of impulsivity that Spencer had internally come to regret, acting on the impulse feeling he had of kissing Tate was not one he immediately found himself hating. Not even under the threat of consequences, which all things considered would be rather severe for both of them. Then again, consequences were not exactly a thing Spencer feared much for himself. There was both something he gained and lost by kissing Tate, and he wasn’t entirely sure what either of those things were, but he knew that it didn’t feel terrible.

The flushed complexion and larger margin of distance Tate established did not go unnoticed by the prince, and most stomach-churning, he noted the distinct appearance of what looked like regret on her face. Maybe it was shame. Fear? Spencer had difficulty in discerning what it was Tate was expressing to him through her countenance, but what she spoke verbally only cemented his perception of this being a negative experience for Tate. “I’m very aware of the marriage you didn’t choose for yourself,” he said, trying to deliberate whether he should be feeling as wounded and defensive as he currently did. From Spencer’s point of view, neither Tate nor Rian were particularly fond of the arrangement, but surely there was some kind of loophole or clause that would end the arrangement. Or annul the marriage early? Even if it was a chance slim to nothing, Spencer believed in there always being an alternative option in every decision.

Though as Tate deferred her apology to him and left, he made no notion to immediately follow her this time. There was an anger churning in his chest at the realization that he wouldn’t feel so dejected right now if he hadn’t felt something positive for Tate and what had just happened, and he couldn’t fathom why he didn’t listen to the instinct that things of this nature only ever hurt him. It’s really his own fault he lowered his guard and allowed his emotions to run rampant, and he wanted to solely blame it on the effects of the funeral right now to avoid facing his hurt directly. There was nothing more, and nothing less to what happened with Tate. Just a poorly made decision.

It had come to be a mild surprise to Rian to have Tate return to his side since he had previously assumed her sudden absences were more permanent than fleeting. Not that he was complaining, of course, but having her rather silently trail his movements and stand idly during his conversations knowing she didn’t want to be here at all added another layer of pressure onto his already overworked mind. The entirety of the time she had returned to his side to begin with, her presence felt more like a ghost he was being haunted by, with her presence a harsh reminder of the guilt he had grown about their betrothal since she had arrived. Even then, as Rian became more aware of Tate’s wine consumption, he had briefly looped his arm with hers to walk in an isolated space alone just to speak a well-meaning comment. “I know you’re unhappy, but I’d prefer if you didn’t express that to everyone else through a consumption of wine.”

It wasn’t Rian’s intent to scold or chide, he simply did not want - on top of everything else at this particular event - for people to determine Tate’s drinking was sourced from distress of any kind, or worse, that alcohol would speak for her if she indulged too heavily. Following that moment, Rian further found himself being approached and subjected to conversations both trivial and political, but not without still being plagued by the lingering negativity he felt for Tate being here. It wasn’t until Tate had spoken to him again when a conversation had begun to dissipate that he was able to transition his sole attention to her, his sterling gaze tethering to her. “I don’t mind,” the brunet assured, albeit with some minor expression of reluctance. “Though I’d be more comfortable if you allowed me to escort you to your quarters.” Primarily Rian wanted to remain with her because he wasn’t positive how much she had drank, or how she handled alcohol for that matter, but he also felt little need to personally send off every noble in attendance when his advisor could do so on Rian’s behalf, and this gave him a proper reason to excuse himself for the night

While he had given his entire span of attention to her, curiously his gaze followed hers to Spencer across the room, whose blatant lack of a jovial demeanor did not strike Rian as out of character. “I’m assuming most of the tension today has spurred will be relieved over the next day or two,” Rian uttered, assuming Tate was more so expressing pity of some kind for Spencer. It had been an idea Rian threw around to try to coax his younger brother into tending to some menial task with him just to force some fraction of amiable proximity between them, but the younger prince’s unpredictability was difficult to work with. Especially when Rian was beginning to grow weary in his attempts to at least be on speaking terms with his brother, who for the most part, was not shy in outwardly expressing he wanted nothing to do with him. “Ready?” Rian asked, removing his gaze from his brother and back to Tate with a nod toward the large set of doors that promised their escape.

When drinking another chalice of wine, Tate did not expect the King to grab her- bringing her into a more secluded area and all but scolded her; at least that's how her fuzzy mind worked it out. She scowled, though did not reply- fixing her face to a smile that did not reach her eyes. She finally could not stand it any longer- between her betraying eyes finding Spencer and the money nobles ignoring her thoroughly. Not that she offered any conversation herself. Guilt ate at her core, between the secrets and everything in between. She blinked up at Rian, nodding as if that was even close to what was on her mind. Not the heat searing kiss his brother had given her moments prior.

Tate took his arm, least of all everyone say they were heading off as lovers- worst case Spencer thinking the same. Or maybe she was over thinking it, or to buzzed to realize. Tate was never one for drinking, and yet she had drank three glasses before Rian cut her off- and she was throughly feeling each drop of the liquor now. "Yeah." She replied, her body feeling hot. Perhaps the dress was becoming too heavy as well, her own body feeling like it was shutting down. She stumbled up the staircase to her room, still relying on Rian's presence to keep her upright.

By the time they made it to her door Tate was thoroughly spinning in her mind. Dizzy. But Rian had never looked better as she unwrapped herself from his arm; turning to face him, "T-Thank you." Her words came out slurred, "Though I'm sure you were ready to combust at the seams if you didn't escape." She teased lightly, forgetting all about the hushed words in the ballroom. Somehow, some way she had shifted closer to him, her hands lightly resting on his chest. This was the most they had ever touched, besides holding hands almost days ago. Which caused her frown to appear, "For someone who is going to be my husband one day you never act like it." She muttered under her breath, which was becoming choppy with each word that fell from her mouth. Or maybe it was the nerves.

Because next thing Tate was doing she was pressing her lips against his. Short, sweet- then pulling away as she becoming more dizzy. "Something's wrong.." She whispered, her entire body becoming numb as she stumbled away from him. In her state of mind Tate was feeing delirious- yet..free from the troubles of her mind. More due to the fact that she could not form a single thought. In the next second Tate was turning purple, her hands flying to her chest where her heartbeat was beating erratically nearly giving up at the rate of speed it was going. Confusion rippled through her as she brought her eyes back to Rian's now more frantic. Scared. "H.." She began to say before she crashed to the floor- assumably dead the way she did not move.

And yet she could still hear everything going on around her as shouts began to arise- footsteps pounding on the ground around her- before she felt herself being lifted; pressed to a chest as they whispered that everything was going to be fine. She could have sworn she heard a hint of fear in whoever was talking. But that could've been the poison she consumed or maybe perhaps someone here was genuinely scared to lose her. Tate went with the first option, wanting to scream as her body began heating up more. Her blood trying to boil itself, burn her from the inside out. Internally she was screaming, over and over again as the pain worked through her body; stopping at her toes and ending in her mind. She could feel her heart slowing, and then more voices and shouting before she was laid onto a cooler table- the coolness doing little to ease the pain raking her entire body. Still, she could not force her eyes open. Not even as her mouth was forced open, and a liquid that tasted like sour candy was forced down her throat. "Swallow." Someone ordered, panic in their voice- "C'mon It's gonna help." They urged before the liquid was down and quiet 'Thank you.' passing whoever was hovering above her lips. As the medicine worked its way into her system, everything cooled down internally- and darkness finally dragged her under.

By the time Tate awoke again her throat was burning with the need to drink water, peeling her heavy eyes open to see an infirmary. What had happened? She blinked as she took in the room that was much smaller than hers- the guards standing at the door immediately standing to attention when they noticed their future Queen was awake. Awake. And that was all it took before Chaos broke out again and Tate was being forced to lie back down and wait. 'Wait for what?' She wanted to curse, before everything came rushing back. She had kissed Spencer. But most of all, she had almost forced herself onto Rian. Her face was burning for a whole different reason now as she fiddled with the blankets nervously. By the time the doors burst open again, Tate was being fed though they didn't let her touch anything- the eggs being shoveled into her mouth by a nurse who was turn ordered by the doctor to not let Tate leave this bed or do much of anything besides breath. Perhaps he was nervous, not wanting her to die on his watch- surely scared the King or the prince would retaliate. But who would care enough for Tate to be angry? No one. At least that's what she wanted to believe.

Escorting an unsteady Tate reminded Rian too much of being the tool that steadied his father up staircases and through rooms during his drunken escapades. The former King was most blunt on those nights, and it was far more of a frequent occurrence following the Queen's death. Various lectures pertaining to Rian's inadequacy to follow in his stead, and the tangents of a doomed legacy because his only sons were only good for providing bountiful disappointment were all that came from the former king's drunken mouth. Rian was nineteen when he stopped listening to those things and learned to tune him out, only offering a few passive nods to make his father think he was still listening. With Tate, he didn't expect to be verbally berated, but he knew alcohol spurred unpredictable temperaments in even the most reserved of people.

Once they had reached her room, Rian fell into a rehearsed dance of trying to gently usher the inebriated individual he was with to a bed. “You're welcome,” he said patiently, his gaze shifting from her to the intended target only for her to have his attention again as she spoke. “Something like that,” the brunet replied with a thin smile. However, the more he pursued his attempt to maneuver her away from him and to the bed, the smaller the margin of proximity she allowed between them. Rian came to a standstill as her hands clumsily placed themselves on his chest, and as his gaze met hers, he wasn't so sure he liked how her eyes framed the reflection of himself he was looking at. The next jumble of words that fell from her lips felt completely coherent, like she might have been more disappointed with him in all reality than she had previously expressed. Rian was only capable of frowning in response to what she said, even though the words ‘I don't know how’ sat at the tip of his tongue. In theory, Rian knew what exchanges of affection were supposed to be, but he had very little idea of how to give those things and mean them. It didn't seem fair for him to pretend it took the short time he'd known her for him to be overwhelmingly enamored, and he didn't expect Tate to fake the same thing with him. Rian is too patient and cautious of a man to consider or feel anything quickly though.

Witnessing Tate begin to grow more unsteady than she had previously been, Rian reached his hands out to try and steady her by the shoulders. “Tate?” He asked, trying to gauge her coherency as she began to very quickly look incredibly ill. Before he could articulate anything worth saying, Tate slipped from his grasp and hit the floor. More or less in brief shock from how quickly Tate had just dissolved in health in front of him, the next series of events were a detached blur for Rian. From picking Tate up to cradle her against him, feeling for a heartbeat, to shouting for help, he wasn’t even entirely certain his own feet had carried himself and Tate to the infirmary until he was laying her on a table. Had he not known there was a heartbeat present, he could have assumed Tate was dead with how eerily still she looked. When it came time to administer something he was assured would purge any impurities in her system, Rian held her hand, and coached her through taking the medicine as if she were conscious.

All that was left was to wait. Wait to see whether she improved or succumbed to whatever had nearly killed her. Rian stayed by her side for a considerable amount of time, discussing everything he had witnessed Tate consume, and a lack thereof. The only proposed affliction was alcohol poisoning, and that Tate might have simply been an individual incapable of processing a certain amount of alcohol that would otherwise be a non-lethal intake for most people. And while Rian had argued that such a thing was too slim a chance to be the sole contributor to what had happened, he couldn’t outwardly say he suspected foul play, because that’s when questions began. Questions as to why he suspected it, questions as to who would wish her dead, questions Rian just could not deliberate on with people he wasn’t entirely sure he could trust.

When Spencer arrived in a fury, Rian left Tate to usher his brother outside to cool his temper enough for them to have a conversation that was far greater than the bad blood between them. “The physician is confident it’s some extreme form of alcohol poisoning she’s been afflicted by,” Rian shook his head and silenced Spencer before he could even respond. “Before you accuse me, no, I don’t agree with it. I think such a sudden illness is too coincidental, all things considered in terms of her safety lately,” Rian uttered quietly, his gaze sweeping the foyer they stood in to ensure they were alone. “I think she was poisoned, but I cannot fathom how. She drank, but from the same chalices being handed out to everyone, unless a servant was paid off, or someone infiltrated the staff. That’s assuming that wherever she went after leaving the room for some time nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened,” Spencer said abruptly, his entire being rigid while Rian simultaneously raised a brow. “I followed her from a distance when she left, just in case. She had been alone in the garden otherwise.” The prince was as furious as he was frightened, knowing Tate could have died so abruptly. What would he have done? It was an impossible situation for him to dwell on, because right now she was alive, and someone would be dead by sundown tomorrow if Spencer had any say in it.

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

Spencer and Rian had agreed to thoroughly, yet covertly, investigate both staff present and nobles attending the after-party. While the names of everyone in attendance in terms of nobility were written in the registry, pinpointing exactly which member of the castle staff was where throughout the night was a far more difficult feat. In any case, they had also come to the mutual agreement that they needed to have an isolated discussion with Tate when she was on the mend, just to determine whether she herself had thought anything or anyone suspicious. All in all, it was a wholly sleepless night for the Iverson brothers.

It had been three days according the the nurse staff who stood around watching her as if she could fall out at any second. Maybe she could all things considering. She blinked up as the doors to the infirmary opened again and in walked Spencer. Casual. Calm. As if nothing ever happened between them. 'Calm down. It was just one kiss.' She thought to herself. Her jaw nearly dropping to the floor as he sat in the chair beside her bed- his legs crossing, indifferent as ever. "No. But they seem to not want me to do much of anything besides blink. And breathe." She uttered with a tense laugh, before looking away from the dangerously attractive brother. Of all things she could be thinking of in that moment it was him- and the moment they shared before she nearly lost her life. The thought was sobering as she pushed herself into a seating position on the bed, cutting glares to the nurses who were ready to step toward her and offer assistance. "I feel fine." She replied to both the waiting staff and the brother who was acting oddly calm despite what happened.

Eventually she waved off the staff, leaving the two of them alone. For now at least. She finally looked back toward him, her brows raising- "You look like have you not slept." She hummed, her throat aching still from the lack of water the past few days. And yet she was alive. Her heart was still beating on her chest albeit a little too wildly at the moment. Spencer had always done that, from day one. He always made her heart either skip a beat or beating too wildly for her own comfort. It had to be simple attraction. And yet he was here, not Rian. "Where is Rian?" She asked, needing a distraction from the rampant emotions that seemed to wreck her mind and body. Besides, Spencer was acting as if nothing happened; Tate could do the same. It was for the better.

However she would rather think about that than who would have wanted to end her life. Why? If they didn't want her as Queen then surely there was something else they could have done? For once, fear took ahold of her emotions- and she let it. Tate was scared for her life for the first time, No one should ever have to watch their back. And now- In this castle Tate was afraid that's all she would ever be doing. But at the same time it was not a shock to her that someone tried and almost succeeded. The note she had gotten days ago should have been proof enough for her to really be afraid and yet Tate had not taken it serious. She had thought they were merely trying to scare her away from Rian and the crown- but now..It was different.

"Do you know who did it?" She asked next, the words all rushing from her mouth as she looked at Spencer frantically. For the first time Tate wanted to run; away from this and all the things in between. Secrets, Lying, Kisses that were forbidden, Attraction to two men who had the power to break her heart if they wished. It was all too much at once, and breathing was quickly becoming hard. Anxiety was an emotion she rarely felt, and in that ugly moment it decided to rear its head; crashing into her body like a train. Her breathing was coming in short pants, her hands pressing against her chest. "I can't do this. What was I thinking?" She rasped out; how could she be anything worth it when she couldn't even convince the council she was going be an amazing Queen if they let her? And now here she was lying on a hospital bed all because she drank wine- and somehow was poisoned.

Spencer hummed with diluted amusement at Tate’s response. “They’re under strict orders,” Spencer replied as an explanation for the behavior being demonstrated. “You can thank Rian and his compulsion to act in caution later.” While admittedly Spencer hadn’t been opposed to how strictly the medical personnel was supposed to tend to Tate, in hindsight, maybe it had been a little much. The Queen-to-be wasn’t as fragile as she had looked over the past few days in rest, and Spencer could imagine how being treated as if your glass could grow irritating quickly. As she sat up, Spencer made no direct move to assist her, because he didn’t intend to unless specifically asked. “If you say so,” the blond replied, as if he didn’t entirely believe she was simply ‘fine’ but wasn’t willing to argue the matter.

Watching momentarily as the staff scurried out like uncertain lemmings at Tate's request, Spencer reclined in the chair as Tate's voice prompted his attention. “I find your observation offensive, I've slept wonderfully over the last few nights,” the blond retorted in confidence, smiling as if that would change the reality. As she inquired about Rian's whereabouts, Spencer waved his wrist dismissively. “Going through sealed documents detailing the histories and familial details of the staff, information I'm not allowed access to. I'm sure he'll be coming around within the next half hour.”

Spencer had half a mind to complain about the sterile environment of the infirmary, if only because he had hated being stuffed in here as a child every time he had fallen ill. He had been a rather sickly child though, which only partially translated to adulthood. Why he was more compromised to illness, he didn't know, but he hated sick people and he hated the infirmary because of it. Only derailing from his sidetracked thoughts as he noticed the growing alarm in Tate's face, Spencer began to sit up a bit more. “Not yet,” while he knew his candor wasn't comforting, Spencer didn't actually have any kind of information to share. It bothered him to the core, much more than he was conveying. Even worse was watching Tate begin to spiral, displaying signs of a specific form of episode Spencer himself had experienced a handful of times in his life.

Trading the chair for a seat on the edge of the bed beside Tate, Spencer put an arm around her shoulders to force some semblance of a hug. “Listen,” he began, his tone quiet but firm, “you need to breathe, and that is all you need to do right now, alright? Breathe in and out, don't make me demonstrate,” he said, despite already making a specific effort to breathe rhythmically. In Spencer's experience with these kinds of panic overloads, it was actually Rian who had been around for the very first one: forced him into a tight hug, told him to breathe, and didn't let go until he rode it out and the exhaustion of the experience set in. In more recent years, Spencer knew how much these episodes hurt to endure when alone, and he didn't want Tate to feel alone in a moment where the world probably felt like it was crashing down on her.

“If you don't give me verbal confirmation that you're feeling any better, I'm going to keep talking, and I really don't want to inadvertently share embarrassing stories about the dumb things I've done just to distract you,” Spencer murmured, not making any particular notion that he would be moving away from her. Unless she told him to move, or otherwise expressed any disinterest in his semi-forced help. And following their kiss, which neither seemed keen on addressing, Spencer reserved the idea that she didn't really want him around for too long. Maybe he had made her panic worse by even being in the room with her.

Mulling it over with a sigh, Spencer was no closer to knowing how to address the kiss they shared, let alone what to make of what it meant for him. Right now was certainly not a time for him to consider it, but that was easier said than done when he was currently side-hugging Tate's much smaller frame. She was so small compared to him, but he almost found the difference humorous in an endearing kind of way. Not that Spencer would go out of his way to share this sentiment with Tate at the moment, but it was something that didn't escape his thoughts.

Tate raised a single brow at his comment, but it was in Spencer's nature not to tell her the truth; at least about how he felt or was currently feeling. The man looked like he barely slept a wink, but she wasn't going to press the matter. After all, She felt restless herself. And once hearing that no one was yet to be found, Rian currently pouring over the books and records; none of it helped ease the tension. Nor did it help the spike of anxiety she felt. She closed her eyes against the current of emotions "Oh." She whispered- trying to control the onslaught of fear ranking her entire being. They had failed this time, but what if they tried again? Surely if they were confident enough the first time they would not hesitate a second.

She felt the bed dip slightly, Spencers body here causing a shiver to run down her spine. He was always comfortable; at least in her eyes- to touch her. To comfort her even when he himself needed comforting. Eventually, she calmed down- rolling her eyes at his remark about needing to teach her to breathe. And yet he was still doing the movements himself without realizing. She couldn't help that laughter that bubbled up, making a small smile splay across her features- "I'm fine now. Thank you." She replied- and when he finally released her from the strange embrace she could breathe a lot better. After all, Spencer was partly the reason why she had even grabbed a chalice of wine in the first place. The kiss came crashing back to her at the most inconvenient of times it seemed. Their eyes meet, and something dangerous sparks. Something to close to wanting him. But never being able to have him- the thought was like an icy bucket of water dousing any heat she felt rising. "When can I leave here?" She asked to change the subject and hopefully; be able to find a way to avoid the younger brother. If he brought up this much emotions, stirred up this much trouble in her mind and heart she couldn't let him get any closer.

After all, she was marrying his brother. And she would be Queen, his Queen. He would eventually serve her as he did Rian. And for some reason that bothered her more than it should have. She had grown to close to Spencer, unlike Rian who still held her at an arms distance. No matter how hard Tate tried, that man seemed dead set on not allowing Tate fully inside. She couldn't really blame him; He was not just anyone but the King. Someone who needed to keep his guard up no matter who and what you were to him. But Tate was willing to try, shouldn't that mean something?

//////// An Hour Later\\

The need to escape the Palace walls was almost palpable; the intense need to leave just to see a familiar face. She missed her family but most of all Tate missed her father. No distraction helped from feeling like a caged animals, corned as its life is hanging by a thread. Tate put down the paint brush, having finally returned to her room after the ordeal; and yet she still didn't feel right. Like something was off, like she was missing something. Between the men in her life currently and the threat on her life Tate felt like she was drowning- unable to conquer the waves of the Council and the brothers. How could she? When she was a far cry from anything of noble blood? She was not deserving of the title, much less the men. Tate was in over her head, it was like a reality check- a slap to the face. She would never be good enough for these people, but she had been for her family.

All the emotions she felt seemed to be pressing down on her shoulders and Tate was becoming tired of feeling. Being the only one who was actually feeling and not hiding from her emotions. But perhaps it was time; it seemed to help everyone else here. Tate only wished she knew how to shut off everything and bottle it inside. She was tired of complaining. But now Tate was just angry. And rightfully so. But anger only got someone so far before it destrotys them and everything they hold dear.

She had been wrapped up in her own thoughts, her own world, her own everything that she failed to see his existence beyond herself. He had a life is his own. A life she had turned upside down when walking into the castle. Just like her's had. Had she been blind to his own pain because she refused to see the human that was underneath the title of King? Did she deem her own problems more important than his simply because he was what he was. A king. Distractions had saved her. But she realized then they were different people. And maybe what healed her had hurt him. Maybe what killed her, strengthened him.

The further Rian had submerged himself looking for one truth, the more he was swayed to search for another. There were a thousand plausible reasons Rian could speak in a moment’s notice as to any given motive for someone wanting Tate dead, that was just a given, even if he had yet to find out who specifically was actively trying to kill her. However, the sole truth beginning to mount in his head was why Tate was betrothed to him. Even if their fathers had been friends, so many more advantageous alliances could have been made by using his hand in marriage. However, the prospect of being arranged to wed a commoner now made sense as to why the former King kept the details so discreet. Not that it made Rian feel any more at ease. It wasn’t as if he himself was looking for reasons to disband the marriage before it came to fruition, but once upon a time, he had believed the secrecy of his betrothal had pertained to another woman entirely who belonged to a lineage with an ancient claim to the throne.

It didn’t matter now, he concluded. Especially as his swirling thoughts came full circle to the fact he had said he would check in on Tate a considerable amount of time ago. Running a hand down his face, Rian relinquished a sigh that failed to relieve him of the weight of any of his worries and escalating problems. Was it so much to ask for even an hour of peace? Just for once in his life, he wondered if he had any right to scream just to see how it felt. Just to see if he felt anything other than like he was drowning in a life he never asked for, but was convinced by a dead man to take pride in. There was little to bask in as a King though, and Rian knew that if anyone truly knew the gripping terrors that came with his position, the title would no longer be an object of envy.

Having descended from his study to make the venture to Tate’s room, only knowing where she resided because of the permission he deferred to Spencer to allow her to leave the infirmary, the brunet gave a few soft raps at the door to announce his presence before he allowed himself in. There was no meek patience he had to wait for her to open the door, not this time at least. Closing it behind him, his gaze silently traveled from her, to the painting she must have been actively working on, and finally back to her. “I wish I could say I had anything worth telling you about the likelihood of an assassin in our midst,” he began, clasping his hands behind his back if only to give them something to do. “But all things considered I’m glad to see you considerably improved compared to the last time I saw you.” He said, noting the tell of her health by the normal complexion of her skin, but also reading into the fact that it had not transferred to the hidden state behind her eyes.

“I doubt this is the time, nor am I confident you even recall what you said before you fell unconscious, but it’s been bothering me.” Rian deferred bluntly, allowing himself permission to sit in her room because he was tired of asking for basic privileges from everyone around him. “But you were right; I’m going to be your husband in a very short matter of time, and I fail to act like it.” Mulling over his next words, Rian continued after a beat of silence. “The hard truth is that I would only know how to pretend to be invested in that role, because I only know how to pretend in any role I have ever been given. The entirety of my life’s work is nothing short of a collection of learned behaviors and phrases. From every position of my body I make to appear worthy of respect, to every memorized expression I perform, pretending is all I know. So I can hold your hand, and smile, and tell you a thousand things I don’t mean if it means I fit the role you need me to play, but I don’t want to do that to you. Because you’re real, so much more so than I have ever been. So I’m sorry if I don’t live up to what you anticipated to have as a husband, I’m sorry if I never will, and most of all I’m sorry to be giving this all to you right now. But if anyone deserves my honesty, it should be you.”

Rian both felt anxious and relieved by everything he said. While most of this sudden honesty was spurred from the brief fear that she would have died before he had the chance to say everything he was constantly biting back for everyone’s sake, a part of him just wanted to speak freely with someone. Anyone. A single lapse in his judgment with whom he shared information with could mean life or death, but Rian assumed a part of an actual relationship was founded on communication. Honesty, at the least. And he had so much truth to say all of the time. There were so many things he longed to say, and a thousand more things he longed to do. But he was stuck here, confined in these castle walls, and the part of himself he tried to bury beneath his passive mask was gradually beginning to grow angry and bitter with the world. And that must have been exactly how his father had felt at one time, and Rian felt so much closer to him now than he had when he was alive. Even if most of the sheathed anger in his heart was reserved solely for his father and the mess he left for Rian to scramble to pick up the pieces of.