Omisha | Princess of Menahem

Omisha sat completely still, arms folded with a piercing glare stuck on her face. In her mind, it was completely unfair for her father to force her to marry the man she was going to kill, if he was trying to make sure she did kill the heir then his plan was certainly working. The closer they got to Arathorn, the more she was dreading the idea. The prince was sure to be some cocky brat who thought that women were simply objects and would keep her stuck in the palace all day. Already she was itching to escape. Escape both this marriage and this stupid dress.

After Omisha had given her father the rose and stormed off once more, she had been summoned for a meeting with her mother, the cruel queen of Menahem. The king wouldn’t be coming with them, he was unable to contain his emotions as well as the two women of the family, and he was needed to rule the kingdom. Instead, it would just be Omi and her mother. The woman who got on Omi’s nerves more than anything but was also her best friend, would be coming with her. Isn’t life just wonderful. Her mother was a control freak, harsh yet hidden by a mask of kindness. Her mother was able to worm her way into any heart, a skill that Omisha had only slightly inherited. Her father’s ability to worm his way out of a heart had clashed with it, so Omisha was stuck with sometimes being able to get into a heart, sometimes being able to get out of one.

The outfit that had been chosen was one that her mother deemed elegant but simple, one that complimented Omi’s features but didn’t thrust them into your face. It was probably her mother’s second-favourite outfit of Omisha’s, her favourite being the one that she would wear to really important balls. The dress was lilac in colour, the sleeves detached from the dress in some sort of fashion statement that her mother had insisted was all the rage. Maybe it was in Menahem, but the princess didn’t believe that it was popular elsewhere. It was exactly the type of dress that Omi found cumbersome, long flowy sleeves that began just below the shoulders, small white designs painstakingly stitched around the edges of the skirt and up the bodice.

Of course, Omisha was wearing jewellery. The whole theme of her outfit was purple, her mother wasn’t stupid. Aware that Omi would refuse to wear a crown of any sort simply to a meeting, but would happily wear that lavender that she was known for, she had made it seem that it was on purpose. A simple necklace, resting just above the neck of the dress. That was all it took for Omisha to look like proper royalty. Though her expression was certainly one that was worn by royalty. Her face wasn’t scrunched up in anger, in fact it was a perfectly relaxed expression. From a distance it would seem like she wasn’t worried or annoyed about the marriage at all, yet one glance at her eyes would tell you a different story.

A flame was roaring in them, the hazel rings lit in a furious display of her emotion. For once the green in her hues weren’t the star of the show, falling back to give way to the flaming ring. Her crossed arms were closed tight to her body, mouth drawn in a tight line. Her mother’s expression was very different to her own. A satisfied smile was on her features, though it was sullied by the small glint of sadness. It wasn’t in doubt that the queen was happy about her daughter being given away. Though younger than the king, she was the one with the intelligence in the royal pair. She hadn’t been happy with Omisha being trained in the assassin ‘industry’. The thought of her daughter being able to easily kill her while she slept had unsettled her, something she didn’t keep secret.

The queen’s outfit was planned to work well with Omisha’s. Green and purple have always been known to work well together, and the queen was taking no chances. Her outfit was considerably more for show, a display of the kingdom’s riches, intended to subtly hint that allying with Menahem would be a wonderful thing. A crown rested on the queen’s head, mainly made out of precious metals rather than adorned with jewels, it was to prove that though they were rich they didn’t fritter it away, and didn’t keep it where anybody could take it.

The further they went, the more uncomfortable Omisha got. The journey between kingdoms had taken nothing short of two days, and now on their way to the palace, Omisha was dying to get there even if she would be meeting her future husband and the man she had to kill one she was there. At this point, she just wanted to stand up and walk around but she hadn’t been allowed to leave the carriage or move once she was in the outfit she would be wearing when greeting the royals of Arathorn. “For fear of messing up your outfit dear” had been what her mother had said, but it didn’t make sitting still any less uncomfortable.

“Sit up straight Omisha, we’re nearing the palace now.”

Her mother’s words cut through Omisha’s thoughts like a knife. They were nearing the palace. They were nearing the place that she would meet Peregrine. The name was already sour to her, she already hated the man with a passion that burned bright. As the curtains shielding the two from view were pulled even tighter, to ensure that when Omi was revealed her appearance wouldn’t be one that was already known to the people, Omi slowly began to douse the fire in her eyes. It wouldn’t do to be unprepared with her expression. As the carriage began to slow, the soft, polite smile began to rise. By the time the carriage had stopped, she was fully prepared expression wise. To all eyes she would seem like a shy princess, meeting her husband-to-be for the first time. “Even I can’t see the fire. You have improved Omisha.” Her mother’s words brought a hint of true pleasure to her smile, a compliment was rare, it had to be earned. Unless of course, the queen was lying.

The trumpets sounded once more, signalling that the family were about to leave the carriage. As the door swung open, her mother began to descend from the carriage, standing tall and confident but with a subtle air of submission as she bowed her head. A queen had earned her right to not have to curtsey in the presence of other royals. Many did, but her mother was not one of them.

Omisha began to take multiple deep breaths, readying herself for when her name would be announced. This had happened so often, but she had never been betrothed before. This is just another assassin job. It just has a twist. Strangely enough, these words calmed her. The soft smile still on her features, she waited for her name. “Presenting…Princess Omisha of Menahem!” Standing up, she exited the carriage, dainty steps carrying her down the steps to the ground. She caught only a glimpse of the royal family as she walked away from the carriage before finally doing the first act of greeting.

Omisha gathered her skirts, gave a dainty curtsey making sure to bow her head so that the lavender was at least slightly visible, and waited to be told to rise.

Peregrine Prince of Arathorn

Peregrine motionlessly stood there just gazing into the distance. His posture must have slouched a little, because his mother elbowed him to stand up straighter. He had thought that he had been standing properly. After all, he hadn't been swaying without realizing it. His mother demanded that he not sway while standing during formal events. It got on her nerves if he did it while they were just with the family. Subsequently, the trumpets resounded, and he knew the time was ticking closer. Soon their carriage was visible, and he could see that they had gone out of their way for it to be elaborate. He could feel the message that they wanted to impress on their future in-laws.

One of the footmen swung open the door. He could see the skirts of their dresses, but not much else about them, while they were still inside. He looked down at his blue tunic with silver overlay and embroidery. He carefully tried to straighten it with his palms which were beginning to sweat where he had mussed it earlier. His gaze darted up, because he had seen movement out of his peripheral. He didn't want to be staring at the ground when they exited their carriage. Not only could it be considered rude, but it was submissive and could give them a psychological advantage. He knew his family wouldn't appreciate that at all. They slowly exited the carriage, and Peregrine noticed from his peripheral that his mother's lips tightened when the queen didn't bow.

Peregrine inclined his head to be polite, but he didn't feel like more was necessary. Once he lifted up his head, he studied the two royals carefully. He tried to be aloof appearing like he didn’t care what he was seeing. He was relieved that his parents hadn’t been lying to him about her age. She definitely was around his age.That was when he realized that he really did want someone around his age. If she was going to be around during his best years, he wanted to feel like he could relate to her. It was also encouraging that she also wasn’t ten years younger than him or something crazy like that. It would have disturbed him to meet a child, whom they expected to marry him eventually.

He was intrigued by her lavender purple theme that she had going. When she bent over, she even had a sprig stuck in her hair. His parents had made him memorize most of the royal family names, but it was also nice to be reminded. Princess Omisha. He noted her soft smile, and he thought it was an expression that fitted her face. Before she had bowed he had been able to see that she was quite a bit shorter than him. He wasn’t a super tall man, so he appreciated that she wasn’t taller. She had dark brown hair, which wasn’t uncommon. So far she hadn’t struck him as anything special. His father’s deep baritone resounded easily in these close quarters.

“Alight from your carriage. We welcome you to our home and hearth. Bid yourselves stay and partake of our hospitality,” he used the formulaic polite way to invite them in. “Rise Princess Omisha. We are glad to have you, and we are glad that you have arrived here safely,” the king allowed her to position herself upright. The king was finished with the formal ritual, and reverted to a more common way of conversing, “I am sure you are tired,” he kept himself from adding dirty and with that came foul smelling. “My steward will show you to your rooms, and you may freshen. Dinner will be served at 1:00 P.M. if you would care to join us,” he informed them.

This was his not so subtle, yet polite way of hinting that if you want to eat, this is the correct time to show up.

“You will have chambermaids to assist you over the course of your visit. They will be perfectly willing to show you the way to the dining hall,” he added.

Peregrine wondered if he would get a chance to talk to the princess. It wasn’t necessary that royals were permitted to talk to one another before they were engaged. Neither was it common for him to get to meet her before he married her. Honestly, he was lucky to have been able to see her in person. He figured he might get a chance to show her around, while their parents were engaged in negotiations. He knew that according to propriety, he would need to keep a socially approved distance away from her. As he studied the princess coming up with his first impression, he tried to imagine what type of girl she would be. He didn’t approve of silly senseless girls.

He wasn’t sure what he wanted in a girl, since his parents hadn't ever let him near one to figure it out, but he decided that he would soon find out what he disliked. Suddenly, his mother nudged him again. He must have missed something that he hadn’t done correctly. He could see his mother subtly incling her head toward Omisha’s hand. After years of experience, and more serious consequences for not understanding, he could understand his mother’s hints better than his father. Often he was the interpreter. Gently, he took Omisha’s hand, and gallantly bowed over it. He gently pressed a kiss to her hand.

“Welcome to Castle Averil my lady,” he greeted her politely. He wondered if this was really necessary.

He did it without considering not, because he could feel his mother staring at him through his back. Now, that they were finished with the first pass of rigamarole, he thought about trying to escape. He was sure he could find a place to hide that his mother didn’t know about. He could always try to ride away on his horse. His sixth sense that he had been working on developing told him that his mother was about to elbow him again. Quickly, he stood up straighter, and gave princess Omisha a smile. He hoped that no one else could see his mother about to get him with her elbow. He was sure that it wasn't an awe inspiring sight in a good way. He could smile nicer when he was actually feeling like it, but almost being jabbed by your mother never encouraged a natural smile.

Luckily, he had experience with moments like this, so he had taken time to look in a mirror and practice smiling. From the lack of jabbs, he must have succeeded in the correct facial expression. One of their servants opened the door for the royals, and they all trailed into the castle. Peregrine was tempted to go hide in the kitchen. While the servants often disapproved, because he would take food, they accepted the inevitable. The kitchen was meant to have food leave it, and everyone enjoyed stealing and sneaking food from there. There was no reason to become exceptionally harsh on their future king. Even the servants might occasionally pinch a pie or so. They couldn’t grudge the young prince something that simple. He would get in more serious trouble, if it was food that was being prepared specially for something or someone. They had learned it was easier to be an accomplice, so they had more control over what he took away.

Omisha | Princess of Menahem

Omisha studied the ground intently, body like a statue, mind going at a hundred miles per hour. Prince Peregrine was who she would be betrothed to. Prince Peregrine would be the man she would kill. She already hated Prince Peregrine. The soft smile fell from her face as she stood there, the fallen expression hidden by the shadows cast over her face. Oh how she longed to be home. How she longed to get clean. Though not tired, she was well aware that her skirts were dusty. Being the princess, she didn’t smell…Yet.

The dress was uncomfortable, digging into her flesh as she stayed motionless. How long were they planning on keeping her in a curtsey? Her mother was clearly getting restless, skirts twitching slightly as her hands brushed against them. Though the queen would not be showing her impatience in ways that the royals of Arathorn could detect, Omi showed her impatience in the same way as her mother and could read the woman like a book. The soft tapping sound that most would place to the sound of the servants’ feet tapping against the cobblestone would be coming from her mother’s foot tap tap tapping. The key to not making it too loud or noticeable would be lifting the foot barely, almost just your toes rising and falling on the ground.

A faint memory stirred in her mind.

Omisha stood motionless in the middle of a barren courtyard. She was young, 12 or so, wearing a pure white dress with voluminous folds and jewels. It was incredibly fancy but clearly not meant for a girl her age. It seemed more suited to her mother’s figure, for it was a dress meant for the woman that stood in front of the child. “I can hear your skirt, try again.” The child’s face was calm, no sound in the yard apart from a soft tapping sound. Listen closer and you would hear the rustling of her skirt as her hands brushed against it.

Training on how to properly show her impatience was what it was. It was no longer acceptable to glare or fold her arms when impatient, certainly not appropriate to show her anger. If needed, her parents could betroth her now but clearly she would need a few more lessons first. The rustling sound slowly faded, her mother’s head bobbing slowly up and down as she nodded her pride. The child was coming along. Certainly not perfect yet, but not a mess either. The woman’s hand lifted behind her, beckoning servants onto the courtyard to simply walk around. “Now curtsey Omisha.” Omi curtseyed, the rustling inaudible, the tapping disguised by the sounds of the footsteps. “I can hear you but I will always be able to hear you. Dismissed.”

The deep baritone of the King resounded through the courtyard, and with his words came the permission to rise. The princess straightened herself in one fluid motion, soft smile once more on her face as she bent her head in acknowledgment of the King’s words. Her mother would do the speaking for her, it was custom for Omi to only speak when directly addressed, at least until she was more familiar with Arathorn’s royal family. “We, along with the Kingdom of Menahem, thank you for your display of hospitality.” The Queen went with the more simple but just as polite version of the way to accept the invitation to stay. “The Princess and I will gladly join you for dinner after we freshen.”

Omisha’s gaze almost flashed by the King and the Queen, they would be easily recognisable, but she had heard tales of the Prince who preferred to wear casual clothes, be in the stables and who liked to swipe food from the kitchen. Omisha knew many things about each heir of each Kingdom, it was one of the many requirements to her job. A good memory was useful, but no matter what you needed to know everything the spies could give you by heart. She made sure to only meet his gaze for a couple of seconds, focusing more on committing each recognisable feature to memory. So far, she had seen none. He didn’t seem like a very special character, though she knew he was around her age she was sure that though he liked being all common and staying in the stables and stealing food from the kitchens he would be just like every other man who thought he was unique.

“Didn’t you know that I’m unique? I try to be a commoner, love my horse to death and even steal food! Aren’t I so different and weird?”

Basically, just like every other stupid bratty prince that she had ever come across.

Part of Omi wished for the Prince to leave. She didn’t want to see him again unless she was looking at his dead body. But part of her wanted to be alone with him. She would have to keep a distance from him, but being alone would be best for her mission. It was always hard to kill somebody with sharp swordsman skills without knowing them first. Not just spy knowledge, but knowledge that you only required from simply chatting to someone. Alone.

Already, Omisha was planning the personality that she would put on when with the prince. Of course she was known for being polite, shy and sweet, but the personality that she would display when alone with him would be the most important thing. She had decided to be quite bold with her assumed traits, like every other royal, she knew that the prince wouldn’t have been allowed to be with women for long enough to figure out what he liked and didn’t like in a woman. It just made her job that much harder.

A sweet girl who can be emotional at times but really is just good at heart. A girl who has a sense of adventure, who is controlled by her family but when not around them she is fierce.

Your typical story-book, princess, protagonist.

As the prince took her hand, bowed and planted a kiss on it, she allowed her gaze to drift towards the floor and her soft smile to have just a bit more shyness in it. She wanted to go all out with the sweet, slightly naïve character. Just as she would go all out with her assumed adventurous trait. She dipped into a small curtsey once more as she responded to his words.

“I thank you for your kind invitation, my lord.”

Typical, sweet, polite response.

She rose from her curtsey, gaze transferring back to the prince as she continued to try to find any recognisable features of his. Nothing that would be able to help her distinguish him from a crowd of men. It was only because her gaze was focused on him that she had caught his mother about to jab him with her elbow. This just added more truth to her gentle smile. This would help him identify with her character. Even if he wasn’t controlled by his mother, she definitely had a lot of ‘influence’ over his actions. She seemed like your typical, over-protective mother, always worrying about how her son was presented to the public.

Even better.

Peregrine

Peregrine wasn’t over impressed by his first impression. It was just the run of the mill formal introduction, and it held nothing in it that was special to him. Nothing had captivated him. Well...he had to rethink that, when he had put it that way. The lavender in her hair had caught his eye, because it had seemed a bit unusual. He supposed the sprig of lavender caught his eye more, because her dress was a similar color. If it weren't for that, he doubted he would have noticed. Between her dress and hair it was obviously a theme she was trying to impress on others. She wanted them to notice it. Now, that he had that thought in his mind, it annoyed him. He didn't want to be doing what she wanted him to do.

He preferred to be a little unpredicatable. When he took her hand, she had curtsied again. Not near as deep as the first one, but then, he wasn't considered as important as his father. She had addressed him as lord, but it was normal, because he had called her lady. He was a little surprised that she hadn't tried a little verbal uppancy there. Instead of calling him lord, she could have called him sir. A lord was higher than a knight. Addressing him at a different level than he had addressed her could have undermined them. He doubted something that little would have stopped the whole process, but it might have made his parents stay up all night discussing it.

This could leave them at a disadvantage, because they would be tired from the lack of sleep. He stopped himself right there, trying to make sense out of a bunch of coincidences. He was letting his imagination go wild. He looked into her eyes, at that moment that he kissed her hand. Previously, he hadn’t been close enough to notice. Her eyes had been shadowed, and they had looked like a darker color. Now, he could see there was a color variation between the two eyes, which was very unusual. As he arose back into his former position, he drew his eyes away from the princess to observe the queen. She was wearing an elaborate green dress. Even though Peregrine had been expecting this from them, it still slightly impressed him.

This was what they were willing to put into a treaty. As he looked at her head, he soon noted that she was wearing a crown. Even though she wasn’t the ruler of Arathorn, she had insisted on wearing a crown. In some cultures that could be considered an insult. Maybe she had done her research, and she had decided that it was safe enough here. He was getting tired of these little mind games they were trying to play. He preferred to be up front. It was quicker and it took less energy. While they were on Peregrine’s family’s land, she had no power. If it weren’t for the reason they were here, there would be no reason to treat them as royalty. At this time, they chose to enter inside the castle. The guests were escorted to their rooms, and some of the Everards retired to their rooms.

Peregrine was allowed to go to his rooms until dinner was going to be served. They didn’t want him out and about causing trouble, as they knew he was perfectly capable. They knew him well enough to believe that he wouldn’t do it on purpose, but you could never be too certain. He was glad to be out of the Menaham Royal Family’s sight. It was unnatural trying to pretend that he was a polite perfect prince, and it took a lot of effort and concentration. He had to recall hours of protocol lessons that he had taken, and he had to constantly be vigilant and alert about what hints his mother would drop. If he didn’t take the first hint, she would gradually become more obvious until it was embarrassing.

He had experimented with how far she was willing to go. Depending on how important it was that she wanted him to do, she would make sure that he did it. He could feel tiredness and lack of energy drag him down, now that he was in the safety of his room. Some of the energy that was sapped from him was simply because he was nervous. He didn’t want them judging himself and the whole treaty falling through, because of a mistake that he made. Not only would his parents be furious, it would be embarrassing to deal with. It was a legacy that he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life living down. He also didn’t want to ruin future alliances. He knew these were important, and they could very well help the kingdom.

While occassionally he could be foolish or immature, he didn't want to harm his subjects. Sometimes his young desires got in the way, and he did something inconsiderate. He didn't mean to hurt anyone, he just wanted to do what he wanted to do. He wondered if he should change clothes. Would that seem like he was trying too hard or would it impress them? He knew that if he was unlucky, the sweat would become obvious. He wished he could dress more casually. The clothes helped build on his stress. It helped remind him to never relax, which now that he was thinking about it might be a good thing. He knew his parents would disapprove of dressing down, because they didn’t want to lose any of the psychological advantage they may have gained.

They wanted their allies to take them seriously. One of the well known ways to show your sincerity and seriousness was by dressing appropriately. He sat down heavily in his chair, and laid his head in his hands. He didn’t know or particularly like this girl, and he was already being forced to try to impress her like he was a peacock or something trying to win a mate. It was a painful comparison, but it wasn’t totally devoid of truth. He looked up at the knock at his door. He gave the word that whoever it was was allowed to enter. It was a servant telling him that dinner was almost ready and that he should be ready to join them at the dining hall. He quickly looked himself over hoping he hadn’t messed anything up.

He had forgotten to belt on his sword earlier that day, and he supposed he could leave it. None of his parents had scolded him for forgetting it. His sword was decorative as a prince’s sword was supposed to be. It distinguished it from others. At the same time, the decorations made it hard to believe that it was made for use also. Peregrine hoped that those who encountered him sword fighting wouldn’t take him seriously. As a sword fighter, he always felt more comfortable having it on him, but he supposed he could save that little surprise for later. He decided he was presentable, and he headed down the stairs towards the dining hall. He quickly noted that his seat was on the left side of his father beside

Princess Omisha. They would be sharing some of the food and plate together. He wondered if this was such a good idea, but there was nothing he could do at this time. On the other side sat his mother. She would be the dining partner for the queen of Menaham. His father wouldn’t have a dining partner, which Peregrine envied. It was only them who were dining, so it wasn’t too big of a breach. The servants brought forth water bowls for them to wash their hands in. It was more of a shallow rinse, but it was supposed to clean their hands. Peregrine had done the serious washing of his hands before he had come to dinner.

Omisha | Princess of Menahem

The prince was nothing special.

Neither was the Queen or King of Arathorn. Nothing that she hadn’t seen before, no special greetings, features or anything. Nothing that would prevent her from doing her job. Her gaze flickered from the prince to her mother, an eyebrow raising slightly when her mother caught her eye but doing nothing more. Already she was bored, finding the brief interaction with the royals a bit of a waste of time. If they weren’t going to do anything special, she didn’t care. All that was important was getting married to the prince, killing him, and going back to Menahem. She had been travelling between kingdoms her whole life, doing the same ritual again and again and again. Her eyes narrowed slightly at the thought, she was getting quite tired of the royal life, though she knew that being a royal gave you a higher chance of surviving any illnesses. At least the common people didn’t have to go through formal greetings.

They didn’t have to worry so much about their reputation.

Right now she was going over what she had said. Addressing him as lord may have been the wrong choice. She could have addressed him as knight, or sir, using small psychological tactics. However, it may have been the right choice. She had to keep reminding herself that she wasn’t supposed to be acting like her true self, she was sweet, kind, but somehow still adventurous Omisha. Not manipulative, cruel, assassin Omisha. Switching between her personalities was difficult, no matter how long she had been doing it she still sometimes slipped up. Slip ups were irritating, reminding her that she wasn’t perfect. And Omisha so wanted to be perfect.

She wanted to be special.

Her gaze dropped as her mother made eye contact with her before glancing at the ground. It would take a while to get used to the fact that she wasn’t at home anymore. She didn’t have her own, private bedroom. The maids weren’t trained to her needs. She wouldn’t have the level of privacy that she was used to. During the time that she was getting used to this, she would be sure to stick close to her mother. The Queen of Menahem had been giving Omi signals her whole life, she had been reminding Omi of her place in other kingdoms forever. Her mother was the one who could easily get Omi out of any hole she dug for herself without disturbing Omi’s cover.

Omisha cast another glance at Peregrine, hiding the curiosity that she was tempted to feel. She had heard something about the prince giving her a tour of the gardens, but was unsure whether that was a lie her mother had made up or the truth. She could never tell with her mother. Everything was different here, she could already tell from the structure of the castle. It would take some getting used to, but she supposed that she would have some time. A thought entered her mind and a spark of anxiety flashed through her. Were there people from Arathorn’s neighbouring kingdom here? If they weren’t that would ruin her whole plan, though she supposed that she would have time to make a new one.

Dinner wouldn’t be the time to figure that out, she was sure. It was sure to be just Arathorn and Menahem dining together. It was custom when being betrothed to somebody, she had learned all about betrothal from her mother. Omi supposed that she was lucky. After her father had decided to train her as an assassin she became too valuable to promise to somebody. She hadn’t been one of those princesses who were betrothed at twelve. Even this situation wasn’t too bad. Though she was younger than Prince Peregrine, she was only younger by roughly two years give or take a month or so. It could’ve been a lot worse.

As they were led to their rooms, Omisha kept her head angled slightly downward to hide the fact that her eyes were darting about. Though she was taking in each room and corridor that they passed, she didn’t want the motion to be mistaken for anxiety. Though there would always be some amount of worry involved with her ‘job’, she had gotten used to it over time. Now she mainly felt the worry when about to separate a soul from a body. It had bugged her at first, what she had been tasked to do. Despite her naturally unkind and ruthless nature she hadn’t been comfortable with the idea of killing someone at first. Then she had gotten used to it. She’d had to.

Weakness was not something that her father had taken kindly to.

To her slight surprise, Omi had been given her own room. Since she had come with only her mother, she had expected to have had to share one with her. Sure her room was connected to her mother’s room so that the only way to enter it was via the queen’s room, but that was how Omisha liked it. More privacy. Sure the room was a little small, but there was a window where she could place her lavender, the only plant she had brought with her, and that was all that she needed. Her mother would get ready first, as the queen she needed to make the best impression she could. It was common knowledge that the daughter would grow up to be like the mother, no matter how different they were, the daughter would turn into her mother.

She supposed that it was good for her that her mother had been one of those girls who was betrothed at a young age, not as young as twelve but young enough to have a significant age gap between the king and her. For Omisha, it meant that her mother was much closer in age to her, when presenting herself her mother looked quite similar to Omisha which was quite a good thing for the princess. Though it didn’t make her feel any better about the fact that her mother had been betrothed at a young age.

After she had taken a bath to cleanse herself, Omi put on a different dress. This one was a dark blue, a more common dye colour but still quite expensive. With golden patterns and a smaller amount of jewels, it was the perfect dress for dining. If there were any spills because of a servant or something, this dress would hide them better than her previous one would. Her current sprig of lavender was a bit dusty, so taking it out she replaced it with another. Her mother was in a dress similar to Omisha’s with the colours inverted. Golden with blue designs and many more jewels than Omi’s dress had, though her mother’s jewels were smaller.

The knock they had been waiting for arrived, and as the royal pair followed the servant to the dining area they looked more like sisters than a mother and daughter. It was something her mother was proud of, but Omisha didn’t like as much. She would rather be the only young looking one due to naturally young looks, compared to whatever creams her mother put on her face. As they entered the room, Omisha took in the seating, her eyes narrowing slightly as she realised who she would be seated next to. It wasn’t much of a surprise but that didn’t mean she had to like it. With a deep curtsey, she waited for ten seconds before rising and making her way to the table.

She wasn’t sure how much she would like this dinner.

Peregrine Prince of Arathorn

Before the Kalarajas joined them at the table, his mother decided to give her son a few instructions. She wanted this meal to get along as smoothly as possible. As she began to tell him her list, many of them he already knew. Among them were, be polite. Duh. Anyone with a little education could figure that out. Serve Omisha first. Go figure. It wasn't polite to leave your guest without food, which was why you served them first. They should eat at the same time to prove that there wasn't poison, but he should serve her first. Try not to give away valuable information by blabbing. Of course his mother didn't put it so crudely, but that's how he shortened it in his mind.

He preferred getting to the point instead of waiting around for his mother to tell him. He could often guess ahead what she was going to say anyway. It is better to be quiet than to blabber. He wouldn’t have a problem with that. He didn't want to inadvertently reveal any weaknesses of Arathorn or any of his personal weaknesses of which he knew there were many. He would save that for marriage. He also didn’t want to give a bad impression. He wasn’t sure if he could spell them out for any enemies, and delibarately help anyone attack, but he knew enough about Arathorn for them to find some weakness. Anyone with a any special knowledge of war would be able to find some weakness.

It didn't take an awesome general to find at least one weakness. He was sure even a commoner could do it if you laid out the information. It wasn't a particularly special talent. A general would be able to find more weaknesses though. While he could maintain a conversation when necessary, it wasn’t natural for him to converse with someone he didn’t know or like. The next order she gave him was to invite her for a walk in the gardens. He had raised an eyebrow at this for a few reasons. One, royalty was so strict about supervision and chaperones, that he was surprised at this suggestion. It might be considered improper if they came closer than three feet.

They made a big deal about two who were about to be engaged they were lucky if they came in closer than six feet of each other. Now, that she would be sitting by him, he supposed that today was his lucky day. Two, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to talk to her. They wouldn’t be able to say no to getting married, so he might as well put off getting to know her until they were stuck together. It would be awkward, but he supposed it would be even more if they had never had a conversation before they were married. His mother had expounded on this instruction, when she had seen her son’s expression. Just from the sprig of lavender in her hair his mother assumed that she had some appreciation for horticulture.

He wasn't sure if he approved of his mother's assumption, and he had no idea if this was true. He could be stumbling and then she would think he wasn't the brightest. Of course Peregrine wouldn't consider himself the brightest, but he didn't want to seem below average. He thought he should be able to maintain at least average. His mother told him that there would be plenty of guards watching them, so they wouldn’t be without supervision. Generally, this wasn't considered proper chaperoning, but he could tell that his mother was probably just trying to get them out of the way, so the adults could talk. He wondered what Omisha's mother would think about this arrangment.

Was his mother being too hasty? When his mother's gaze looked him up and down, he could feel dread run through him. His mother had frowned disapproving that he hadn’t changed his outfit, and he could tell that she was tempted to scold him. He was sure he could quote most of her rant, and he honestly gave it to himself while she was trying to decide. This way he got it multiple times and it was firmly in his brain. He doubted that is mother knew this though. His mother always said repetition and practice were the ways to perfection. Now, he began to notice the difference in his mother. His mother was now wearing a dark red dress with plenty of fancy intricate embroidery.

He wondered if they would have to change clothes every time they met with them. That seemed awfully expensive, and Peregrine wasn’t sure if he had that many clothes or at least ones that nice. Soon the Kalarajas entered the room, and his mother stopped giving him instructions. When they entered the room, he found the resemblance between mother and daughter striking. It was on the verge of creeping him out. The queen looked young enough to be Omisha's sister, and it unsettled him. He thought it was even weirder that they felt it necessary to match their gowns, so that they complimented each other. After the queen had freshened and wore a dress a little more similar to Omisha’s, she looked a bit younger and the resemblance more obvious.

He observed as the princess curtsied before she joined him at the table. He arose and pulled out the chair for her just in time before she had to do it herself. He tried not to look at his mother, because he didn't want to be so dependent on her for help. They had to wait for a few minutes for the servants to bring in the meal. He helped serve her as his mother had told him to. "Would you like to have some of this?" he asked her repeatedly. He got a little of everything from the dishes that were served. Politely and with little emotion, he complimented her dress. He noticed that the lavender theme was less noticeable now that she wasn't wearing a purple dress. He supposed it made sense.

She wouldn't eat in a dress that she had traveled in. He had wondered if more of her clothing would be purple, but she wasn't wearing purple clothing at the moment. He turned his head to listen in on the older adult's conversation. His mother was going through a similar routine serving the Menahem queen. She asked if she wanted something before she served it. His mother gave a polite smile, but she immediately drew it off. She had been considering asking if they should have a feast to celebrate the treaty, but they could do that at the wedding. They didn't want to push too quickly and lose their potential allies. He turned back to Omisha, "my lady, I noticed your sprig of lavender. Do you enjoy horticulture?" He had to find one of her hobbies. He needed to know if they had anything in common. He was also curious if she knew anything about sword fighting, but he felt he should keep that knowledge to himself.

He was sure that she knew he was learning how to use a sword, but he felt there could be some discrepancy on his ability. He wondered when they would be on a first name basis. After the wedding? "We have a garden and I would be pleased to show you around," he knew he was making a quick assumption here, but he didn't want to wait to invite her. He might lose his nerve, and he wouldn't get the chance again. "Do you like to horseback ride? We could go on a ride of the game trails around the castle if you brought a horse or you could borrow one," he told her. He didn't want her stuck in her apartment by herself while all the negotiations were planned. If she turned out to be a nice girl and not too judgemental, he might help her sneak around, especially down to the kitchen. He didn't realize the dangers of that impulse.

Omisha | Princess of Menahem

Omi wondered what grand assumptions would be made about her this time.

At every Kingdom she had visited, some big assumption had been made out of some tiny little thing. One kingdom had assumed that she loved the colour red and had made sure that everything she laid eyes on that could be red, was red. Even the food. She still didn’t know why they had made that assumption, she hadn’t been wearing anything red when she had first met them and it seemed like a stretch but of course, she had had to go along with it. It was what was expected of her. Sit still, be pretty, and don’t make a fuss. That meant that no matter what, even if the food was poisoned, she wasn’t allowed to make any grand gestures. It was stifling but at least she didn’t have to go through that when at home.

Having never even considered marriage before, Omisha had no idea what to expect. Most women could do nothing but think all day, so of course their minds turned to matrimony and what they would do. They had their lived planned out for themselves, Omisha had no idea what to expect. She didn’t know when the day would come that she would be caught in the middle of a job and be ruined. She didn’t know if that day would come at all. She also had no real idea how to interact with people around her age during a real conversation. Small talk was fine, she was the woman and didn’t have to speak except answer questions which was easy enough. During a real conversation where both talked…That was bound to happen some day and apparently it would happen when she was being shown the garden.

A smile made its way to her face as she reminded herself that smiling was an important thing to do, keeping her eyes bright as she nodded politely when he asked whether she wanted some of this food or that food. Of course it was impolite to refuse, so Omi sat through it all and nodded. She could see her mother was doing the same, engaged in polite conversation with the Arathorn queen. The two Kalaraja women caught each other’s eyes, a message passing between them before they were engaged in keeping up their sweet, polite façade once more.

Peregrine continued to ask if she wanted some of each food until everything had been served, and then he said the words she had been wanting to hear. The assumption. At least he had a reason, her sprig of lavender. Bringing her smile up so that it had an air of pleased surprise she nodded as she spoke. “Why yes I do. How kind of you to notice sir.” There it was. Her slip-up. How kind of him to notice? Sir? It had been an odd sentence but she hid her irritated thoughts behind a sweet smile. Whenever she slipped up, people tended to just think that that was how they spoke in Menahem. Nobody wanted to be rude and confront her on what she had said only to find out that she thought it was a normal thing to say. Oh how Omi loved to watch them frown in confusion before struggle to hide it. How she loved making people squirm. That odd like must have come from her father, a lot of her natural traits did, while her looks and learned traits came from her mother.

“I would very much enjoy a tour of your gardens. Thank you for the offer.”

When he spoke again, about horse-riding this time, she cast a quick glance at her mother who suddenly made herself a part of their conversation. “Forgive me for intruding on your conversation, but I heard a mention of horse-riding. I apologise for the inconvenience but the Princess has no suitable outfits for such an activity and the King of Menahem disapproves of such activity for her. She simply doesn't know how to ride. Isn’t that correct Omisha?” This was her cue, and Omi made sure not to mess this one up. “Why…” Here she turned her attention from her mother to Peregrine, shielding the left half of her face from her mother’s side of the table. She made sure not to have an awkward pause between her words, turning her face quickly but naturally. “Yes mother.” Here she nodded, giving a wink with her left eye to the Prince before turning her face naturally back to face the right side of the table.

She hoped Peregrine would understand her hint.

Omisha | Princess of Menahem

Omi eyed the new pile of food placed on her plate with a glimmer of disgust in her eyes. The food was different here, which was to be expected, but she hadn’t expected to dislike the way they prepared everything so much. Of course, she couldn’t show her feelings so she simply smiled and nodded as she tasted a little of everything. She was slowing down considerably, it was always polite to slow how fast you ate your food before not eating anymore since it was supposed to show that you were getting full no that you disliked what your hosts were putting in front of you.

Though Omisha knew many facts about the prince, she knew nothing about his personality. Spies were servants, they knew what the prince did but they didn’t know what he was truly like. She could guess that he liked horses, it didn’t take a genius to guess that. He also didn’t seem too interested in the conversation their parents were having. He seemed to be thinking, and Omi had to look down at her plate to hide the fact that a laugh was threatening to burst from her lips.

Something about him just made her want to laugh. Not laugh with him, laugh at him. There was something about the way he held himself that made her want to smile. It was odd, she rarely found things funny but there Peregrine was, making her want to chuckle. Taking a small bite of food to pretend that she had looked down to eat, she chewed slowly, gaze trained on the two Queens before she swallowed and turned her attention back to the Prince.

He hadn’t seemed to pick up on her wink, a spark alighting in her eyes before she doused it quickly. She couldn’t afford to be annoyed right now, once she got annoyed she got angry. And once she got angry everything was ruined. She could feel her muscles tense, her fingers clenching as she took one more bite to dispel the risk of her snapping at the prince. Her gaze was caught by her mother, the woman looking at her daughter with a sharp gaze. The Queen could easily read Omisha’s body language, it had been her who had taught Omi half the subtle body language she knew. It would be weird if her mother couldn’t read Omisha.

Peregrine spoke, causing her to look towards him with a relieved smile on her face. Finally, he had asked if she was finished. This would be the time that she was allowed to stop eating. “I am my lord.” Turning her head to face the Queen and King she dipped her head slightly. “I thank you for this wonderful meal.” Her head turned back to the prince, eyes flickering around the room and landing on the servants by the door. An idea bounded into her head, causing her smile to grow slightly wider. It would be easy enough to complete it, wouldn’t get her into serious trouble if she got into trouble at all and would cast a good light on her. A win, win, win situation.

Peregrine spoke once more and she nodded, adding on speech to her gesture. “I thank you for your offer, I would love to visit your gardens.” He helped her out of her chair and she smiled, turning her attention to the royal parents as they gave permission for them to leave. Sinking into a curtsey, she kept her head bent as she waited for precisely seven seconds before rising. “I thank you for your hospitality and this meal.” Her eyes flicked towards her mother, who’s eyes went from the ceiling to the floor a couple times in their form of a nod.

Getting fully into character shouldn’t be too hard.

Peregrine | Prince of Arathorn

Peregrine didn’t eat all the food that was served. He could be particular about what he ate, so he was impressed the way Princess Omisha was able to keep going. She was the epitome of polite, and it was a little intimidating for him. While Peregrine knew how to say the right things, he wasn’t the best at doing them also. Doing was much harder, because it signified that he actually meant it. From what he had seen from her so far she seemed so perfect. Not that that would make her hard to get along with, but he felt like he should make some effort to match her. All he knew was that he wouldn’t be relaxing any time soon. His parents were probably watching her grace and manners, and wishing their son could do better.

Sometimes Peregrine was tempted to just blame it on the fact that he was a male. From his experience females were much better at this diplomacy and this sort of thing. Courteously, she thanked everyone, that might need to be thanked. He knew his father would feel mollified, but his mother might be suspicious at all this niceness pouring out of their long time enemy. He took her to the gardens, and he wondered which plants she would look at. Did she actually want to be out here? Was she tired of eating weird food? Did she want a break from sitting stiffly in the grand hall? He spread his hands and raised them indicating around him, “This is it. The gardens.” It was almost like he was telling her not to expect anything special.

He said it so flatly, that it would be hard to feel excited about it. He gave her a polite smile, while he said it, so his mother couldn’t accuse him of ruining everything later. Even though tone was important, he had remembered facial expressions. Now, that they were out in the garden, they could be a little bit more free. He saw the guards following them, and he told them to stay out of hearing range. He didn’t have the authority to totally dismiss them, but their parents hadn’t said they needed to listen to them. At least they hadn’t said that in his presence. He could feel annoyance boil up in him. It was Omisha’s family’s fault that he would be getting married to some stranger.

He raised his hands in an exasperated expression, “Why are you being so perfect? Are you trying to make me look bad?” he huffed at her. “How can you stand it? How can you keep it up?” he vented at her. She was the one who had to do it all the time, so he felt that it was unfair to be talking to her in this way, but he was just annoyed with the whole thing. He hoped this didn’t ruin things, but he wanted to complain to somebody, and they were alone at this time. He could imagine the fight that would occur if they figured out what he had done. Now, she had something to blackmail him with. Oh well. He resigned himself to his fate. If you didn’t have enemies, were you living life well?

He didn’t expect an answer, so he continued like it hadn’t happened. “Sorry,” he said shortly, “I shouldn’t have done that.” His jaw tensed and he didn’t look at her. “What would you like to do? Talk, walk?” He gave a few options, because he was not sure what she was thinking of. He gave a furtive glance toward the guards. Had they heard? Were they going to do anything about it? Which of them were informers? He took a momentary thought detour reminding himself that informer was just a nicer word for tell tale or tattle tale. He had resumed his fake mask, but it was sort of pointless, since he had already broken cover.