How incriminating must this look!? Darrek patronized himself, in his head, as he tried to look at the situation logically.

     There he was, pinned beneath Lady Dannira, who was practically draped all over him, with her face buried in his chest. Not to mention the scandalous position of her on top of him!

     This wasn't working in his favor, and the situation only worsened as Rika stared at them, silently.

     "Rika, I-I can explain!" Darrek stuttered.

     I lifted my hand, in a sign to be quiet, as I masked my feelings. I didn't even direct my next words at him, "Dannira, could you tell the Prince that Marcus is looking for him." I was surprised at myself. My voice was so level that even I couldn't quite believe it.

     The look that Darrek gave me didn't even phase me. I was like stone; my mind was blank. My heart wasn't breaking-- there was nothing. Maybe it was a sign.

     "I can't take this anymore!" Ferrina said as she lifted up her skirts and nearly jumped out the window, and she would have, if Amy hadn't stopped her.

     Her best friend had seen the look in the Ambassador's eyes-- the one where she looked like an army general, ready to raid the scene. "You can't just butt in!  You have to think of the consequences...!"

     "But Rika, she--!" Ferrina cried, flustered.

     "She needs to handle this alone. Believe me, I know how you feel..." Amy said as she gave Ferrina a look that said everything she needed to, in not so many words.

     Ferrina made a face. "Fine, you do make a point," she said, reading the hidden message in Amy's eyes. "But I'm making it a plan to meet up with her before the day is over."

     "Deal."

     "We just have to be careful now that Yavin is here"

     "Agreed. But we could always get help..." Amy hinted.

     "Help?"

     I stared blankly at my new shoes. They were red and they went perfectly with my new dress, but I could care less.

     "I wonder what his favorite color is...?" I mumbled as I clicked my shoes together.

     Isn't this like that famous story? "There's no place like home. No place like home..." I whispered.

     I sighed. What did that word mean to me anyway? I had never had a "home." Father had died when I was very little and who knew where my Mother was; and the one place I had begun to see as "home" was now my cage-- the very place I wanted to escape from.

     "I knew I should have said no from the very beginning..." I mumbled as I thought in my head; this is all that stupid Prince's fault! From the start he had been preaching that we live separate lives and then he goes and confuses me-- kisses me...Kisses me...

     "'No'-- to what?" A voice cut through my thoughts.

I rolled my eyes, "Ivan, what do you want now?" I asked as I scrubbed my face.

     "You okay?"

     "No, I'm not 'okay;' I'm tired...I just figured that this thing we call 'marriage' is really a trap, and that the Prince is an idiot..." I sighed again, "Just answer my question."

     "Looking for the 'Idiot Prince'...and stumbled into you."

     "In my private suite?" I asked skeptically as I furrowed my brow.

     "Funny how these things work out," he said, and I could tell he was smiling, even though I wasn't looking at him. It was just how he sounded: Typically Ivan.

     "You were sent by someone...Weren't you." I stated.

     He "cleared" his throat, like he does sometimes, "Nothing gets past you."

     "Contrary to what you think-- a lot actually does."

     I heard him shift behind me, but he still didn't come into view. "Pardon?"

     "Like how it seems Dannira and Darrek are perfect for each other." I said like a robot.

     He didn't really answer, only grunted, and I was compelled to go on. "I mean, he spends more time with her than me. How could I have missed it? I could I have missed the fact that Darrek was in love with her while I was falling in love--" I stopped myself.

     "It 'seems' to me that this is important to you," he said as he came up from behind me to face me.

     "Huh?" I jolted out of my shell to realize, for the first time, the tears rolling gently down my cheeks. They surprised me, "How long--?"

     "Since I came through that door-- maybe longer. And here," suddenly a bouquet of white tulips were shoved in my face, "I think these will benefit you better than they would for me; you see, I have horrible allergies," he went on.

     The card they came with simply said-- "sorry."

     "Yeah, I came up with that part. Darrek's not too good with words," Ivan said with a wink as he made his exit, and as soon as he was out that door he was nearly mobbed, by a party of one. Amy.

     "How did it go? Did she buy it!?!"

     "Um, I think so... She's not exactly the sharpest person in the world."

     Amy laughed, "That's rich! Ferrina would love to hear that. I'll you tell her the whole story," she said as she looked at him expectantly.

     The reaction she got wasn't quite what she had expected. His face turned first a sheet-white to a cherry-red, "Uh, I-I can't...I got stuff...Yeah, stuff-- to do..." he stuttered as he inched away.

     I walked through the halls mechanically, scrubbing at my face with bouquet in hand. If I didn't get this done soon my face would be completely gone or, on a lighter note, completely disfigured. "Well that's a lovely." I muttered; at least I felt better.

     Right now only one thought ran through my head: How did Darrek know tulips were my favorite flower?

     I shrugged; I guess some things would never be revealed. Well, in this case, it was alright with me; because, it was working.

     "Okay, now where--?" my words froze in my throat. What the heck was I looking at?!

     Darrek paced nervously down the hall that lead in the direction of Rika's room. He was contemplating on whether to go to her or not.

     Okay, he was going to do it-- up the hall he went. Nope, he'd changed his mind-- down the hall he came.

     "This woman is impossible!" he said a bit flustered.

     "Little ol' me?" came a seductive voice.

     The Prince visibly cringed. What did this woman want!? He turned around and his eyes nearly popped out of his head.

     There stood Dannira, and what was shocking was what she was wearing, well, in this case, what she was not wearing.

     Dannira's collar was dangerously low, to the point where you could see the lace lining her bra, and her skirt, let's just say it was "nonexistent."

     "Dannira, what are you--?" Darrek tried as he was backed into a wall, but that's all he got out before she locked lips with him again, a second time that day.

     Darrek pushed out of it mortified and little did he know that they had an audience.

     Still he kept his composure , "Dannira, I don't know what this is, or what you were expecting but we need to talk… about us."

     I spun around, my mouth dragging on the floor. Okay, so maybe that was an exaggeration, but it felt like that wasn't totally impossible.

     I dropped the flowers like I'd been stung by them. I had seen, I had seen everything. The tow of them kissing was ramification enough, but add the risqué attire which Dannira donned and I was downright bewildered, shocked, appalled!

     And I didn't want to see anymore, so I didn't stay to hear or see the outcome. I was afraid too.

     What was I thinking?! Love would never be possible for us .

     Devon pulled away from the wall he had been decorating as Dannira came into his sights. Her eyes were red and puffy; their "talk" hadn't gone well.

     She saw him, soon enough, and tried to veer off course but the man would not be put off and tactically stopped her.

     "How did it go?" He toyed with her hair.

     "I hate…you, Devon,'' Dannira whispered; she couldn't even look at him.

     "Say that again." he commanded, "I didn't hear you."

     She turned to him but when she looked into his eyes she knew she was defenseless. He had won the bet. She shook her head and feigned a smile-- not the reaction Devon had expected.

     So she realized her feelings. It was too late. She couldn't do anything about it and this man, why did he toy with her so? Why couldn't he just leave her alone to enmity? Why did he have to come and steal her-- she stopped and lifted her chin.

     She would show him her strength. "I won't give up."

     "I thought we already discussed this. You and Darrek don't have a future." Devon said as he tugged on her hair.

     "I already know that." she turned to him; her eyes flashed him a challenging look, "You're a fool, Devon. I'm going to prove it."
     He cocked his head, "I'm a fool you say?"

     "And a devil."

     I paced up and down the hall, just as Darrek had done.

     "He wouldn't cheat on me with Dannira, would he? No. Of course not," I bit my lip, "But did you see what she was wearing!? What man could resist a woman dressed like that?! She should've just topped it off with a bow; that would have been perfect. No, how could I think that!?" I cried and paced, unsure of what to do and at the moment it seemed like I had two left feet. But tripping over myself wouldn't alleviate the horrid things that ran through my head.

     "I should just go back and confront him…!" I said with resolution, "No, what if they're…What if I walk in on…" my face went white; I had lost my nerve.

     "What's wrong, Princess? " came the voice of the Prince's half-brother.

I swerved around, my arms wrapped around my chest like a shield, a look of surprise on my face. "Devon? How much did you hear? Why are you--?"

     He lifted a hand as he sauntered towards me, "Enough. And might I add that you seemed very virgin-like for a moment, it intrigued me."

     I backed away. What did that mean? Did he know that the Prince and I… "What are you getting at?"

     "Just that the things you would see, if you were to go back, are not for such innocent eyes and a mind that has never experienced such things," he said as he backed me into a wall.

     My mind was still reeling from what he had said. "T-the Prince and, and Dannira…? You mean--," I felt my eyes flutter and Devon barely had time to catch me on my descent.

     "Be careful, you Highness, take it in slowly," he instructed as he lead me to a lobby door and pushed it open.

     I followed without thinking; it didn't even register that the room was shadowy; I could barely take in the fact that Darrek was getting it on with someone else! "He, he wouldn't. Would he?" I stuttered out as Devon offered me a seat on a champagne colored couch.

     It was then that I finally realized my grave mistake; we were alone.

     "Ah! Devon," I turned to him with big eyes, but he stopped my words with a finger on my lips.

     That's when he kissed me, and what a riveting kiss it was. It made tingles run through my whole being, as if lightning had struck me; was this how it was supposed to feel?

     I leaned in; I couldn't think only feel, but when I felt his tongue dip into my mouth I ripped away, gagging. I had neither experienced nor expected that!  But Devon wasn't through, and since he was stronger than me, he pulled me into a second kiss and then another, and another.

     We sank down onto the divan.

     As we kissed I had this vague notion in the back of my head that this was wrong, my conscious made that fact very clear, but my instinct and senses had other ideas. They were flying through the roof screaming, "Do it! Do it! After all the Prince is to blame too. What's wrong if you get a little satisfaction? After all, he is too. With Dannira."

     But when I felt Devon's hand untie the lace at the back of my dress my conscious and senses had a falling out, "Stop!" I huffed as I rolled out of the divan. My conscious had won.

     Without another word to him, or even a glance backwards I shot out of the room as if the plague followed me. I had almost been snared, I thought grimly as I slammed the door shut behind me.

     I barely made it to my room before I burst into a fit of sobs. Today was the worst day ever, even worse than my wedding and that was saying a lot. It seemed like there was no hope for my life, it would continue to get worse and worse.

     As Rika ran out of the room Devon quickly righted himself and redid his tie as if nothing had happened. He stared off into the dark for a moment, contemplating something, before he whispered, "Now that's how you should seduce her…brother."

     "Bartholomew! Barth…olomee…! More, more wine!" hiccupped a voice as a young man, in a worn robe, glared at a man in priests' vestments.

     "Enough, Father Cassandra!" he yelled as he whacked the bottle out of the Father's hand.

     The priest bent to retrieve it, but fell out of his seat laughing and saying, "Now, now, Barty, what's a lil' wine b-between…friends?"

     Bartholomew kicked the bottle from the man's reach, and said nothing.

     "Now, now…Why'd ya haft to do that?" asked the aged, old man as he scuffed his grey, thinning hair. His plump cheeks were rosy and the young man knew, for a fact, he was way past his limit.

     He lifted a brow on his young face, "Father, you've had enough, don't you think?" he stated his case logically, but in terms the wasted man could understand. "You've had too much, ya idiot!"

     "Who're you callin'…a idiot?" asked the old man as he drew out from behind his back another bottle, "Lucky for us I had a spare! P-pour the wine…boy!" he guffawed as Bartholomew relented and took the bottle.

     The young man placed a cup in the priest's shaking fingers as he poured the wine in a steady stream but ever now and then the old man, Cassandra, hiccupped and disrupted the flow of wine, splashing it all over him and his assistant.

     Bartholomew watched as he downed the whole glass in one gulp and soon passed out, "What an old fart. The clergymen were either desperate or blind to nominate some like him." he said as he took the man's cup and filled it with water, and dipped the man's fingers into it.

     He smirked, "That'll teach you, you old man."

     "Father, Father!" A harried cry interrupted the young man's evil, and petty scheme at vengeance.

     Down the steps to the wine cellar came a servant with a furrowed brow, and with one look at the state of Father Cassandra his look of worry only deepened. "W-what's this!?"

     Bartholomew grabbed the man by the his clean, white collar, "Look man, it's your fault for telling him where you kept the wine!"

     "Well, quick, get him up!" yelled the servant as Bartholomew dropped him reluctantly.

     "Why?" Bartholomew was being difficult, which was normal. "I'm sure he can bless your head, so it can re-grow hair, later." he said dryly, with more than just a hint of sarcasm.

     The servant, who indeed had thinning hair, stroked his receding hairline as he growled, "Cynic."

     "Baldy," Bartholomew retorted. They glared at each other for a moment as the Father moaned.

     "That's enough! This is a matter of supreme importance!" the servant shrieked.

     "Like what!?"

     "The Princess wants to repent! And she heard that--" the two of them shot wary glances at the indisposed man, flopped on the floor behind them.

     "Well, he's in no position to go, he'll only disgrace his fellow clergymen,"  Bartholomew sighed, "I guess I'll have to go and do it," he muttered as he unraveled the sleeping man, and with a swift tug the priest fell out of his robes rather brusquely; but his young charge could care less and pulled on the robes and wore them loosely.

     The servant just looked on, mouth gaping; such a young, rude man as a priest!? He couldn't see it but this man was, after all, training to be just that.

     Bartholomew looked back at the servant, with thinning hair, as he smoothed back his thick, unruly, dark hair and asked, "How do I look?"

     "Like a poseur…"

     "What did you say!?" Bartholomew growled as he lifted him again by his collar, which was crumpled from his previous outburst.

     "Just go see the Princess, 'Father…'"

     "Cynic," replied the young man. The servant had nothing to say to this. Bartholomew smirked as he stuck out his tongue in defiance.

     I looked up as a very young looking priest came into the room and when my eyes landed on him my mind went blank.

     How could such a man be a priest? I mean, he had such a dark, foreboding aura; and his eyes seemed to pierce one's very soul. If he even looked at me with those eyes he would have gotten a confession out of me straight away, and he wore his robes rather loosely.

     "What's the matter?" he asked in an informal tone.

     "Ah, it's just…that I didn't think you were a priest." I answered truthfully as I made a mental note not to look into his eyes.

     He stroked his fair face in thought; how old was he, really? "So what did you want to talk to me about?" he asked and I made the mistake of looking into those lustrous eyes, they were like Ferrina's, and they demanded an answer.

     I bowed, "I'm so sorry, Father! I've done something horribly wrong! I've, I've--"

     I massaged my temple; how had this happened!? One minute I was speaking to the Father and next he was calling a meeting.

     Now I found myself in the same room as a young, albeit arbitrary, priest, an old, drunk guy, whom I didn't even know, and the Prince, who kept glancing my way!

     I felt so vulnerable; I just wanted to melt into a puddle and evaporate.

     At first I had thought that if the young priest were with me I would be alright, but, almost right away, he had abandoned me and taken on the task of bringing the old man out of it.

     Right now I was being subjected to a show I would have never thought I would be seeing. He, the young priest, who had conceded that his name was Bartholomew, was whacking the elderly gentleman on the head. I wasn't quite sure what that was suppose to do and the incantation that accompanied the motion was very odd, very odd in my opinion.

     "Wake up, you old man!" hissed Bartholomew as he landed a few more smacks. "What the heck am I suppose to do in this kind of situation?" he said under his breath.

     Cassandra's eyes fluttered open as he hiccupped, "Betty, is that you darling?" he asked as he tried to lay one on his young charge.

     POW-SMACK!!

     In just a moment Bartholomew had decked him and, almost as if it really were a spell, he came too. "Huh? What? What have we here?" he asked as Bartholomew discarded his robes into the old man's lap.

     "Whatever, it's you problem!"

     "Huh!? What is?" he asked as he pulled on his vestments.

     "Them!" huffed Bartholomew as he pointed at the royal couple. We just stared, with bewilderment, back.

     "I sense a disturbance on the love-front; silence!" he ordered, even though no one was about to speak. He continued with a pompous stride, "There is something that can remedy this, very simply indeed, and every man can attest to this," he said as he propped one leg up on a chair and began to hitch up his robe; Bartholomew only stood in the back shaking his head, with his face in his hands.

     We, the "royal couple," just sat there too stunned to even utter a sound.

     "Now, Honey, you just gotta show a little leg and then you and the Prince can do it, and the young ward and I will quietly leave--"

     "What!?" I shrieked as I blushed a profuse red.

     "What! It's not like you're a virgin! You two are married, right?" he asked as he peered at us; we were both too embarrassed to look at each other but if we had had the courage to do so we would have seen that the other was the same color of red.

     "What are you waiting for! Get to it, right now!" the priest said in a shocked manner as he began to shove Bartholomew out the door, but the young man responded with a knee to the gut and then followed it up with a backbreaker.

     As Cassandra crumpled to the floor, wheezing, Bartholomew walked to me and pulled me aside, gently, while he began to speak in a hushed tone, which, every so often, inflected, "Now, your Highness, I know there may be times where you two feel like your not in love, there's no 'magic,' etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, but you can't just go around kissing their half-brother!"

     "But, but," I sputtered in a weak defense.

     "I mean, it's almost 'adultery!'" he said, a little too loud.

     "'Adultery?'" came the Prince's voice behind me.