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Snippet #1577049

located in Shigan Imperial Palace, a part of Fleure, one of the many universes on RPG.

Shigan Imperial Palace

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Darcy


"Remove it."

Even though she frowned on the inside at his coarse command, Darcy pointed her foot, sliding it out of the shackle with minimum fuss and leaving the trapping on the floor. Lips tightly sealed, she watched as he went around the room, systematically blowing out lamps until they were in semi-darkness. Darcy hoped he'd been informed about what he could and could not do with her. She would hate to make a scene about a Prince, of all people, and what an awkward customer to ban from seeing the girls. She knew the Lady would do it. She'd already done so once with one of the Emperor's sons.

Bound to silence by protocol, Darcy waited for the Prince to become bored. He would. They always did, got talkative when she didn't initiate conversation. It wouldn't be polite. A Lady asked more questions than she answered. A Fleure did the same, but with one difference. She had to be invited to speak. No invitation, no conversation. A rule both of the girls had undoubtedly broken by then. But that didn't mean she had to. And so Darcy stood, and watched the Prince, as he behaved in his royally eccentric manner.

It was only when supper arrived, borne on a trolley that was more heavily laden with gold and some of the images of thrones she'd seen, that Darcy considered herself excused. "Your Highness," she interjected. "I'll be in my room next door for the night, if you need me." And with a bow not quite as deep as she really ought to have presented, considering the other was a Prince and she was just a paid plaything, Darcy backed out of the room, enclosing herself in her own little chambers.

They were much smaller than those at the House, where she got much better accommodations than this, but Darcy refused to complain. This was not a vacation. Not supposed to be fun. She wouldn't have taken it on if it was such a superficial, meaningless thing. Some girl who didn't care about work could have taken that on. No, wait... a girl who didn't care about this had taken it on anyway. Darcy groaned, and slammed her face against her pillow. In the privacy of her own tiny closet, what did it matter if she acted unladylike?

But even in private, Darcy couldn't sustain that long. She placed her pillow back where it belonged, smoothed it out, and then shucked off her outer robes, allowing her clothing to fall to the floor and switching out the day clothes for a nightgown, full length, which brushed the floor gently. Though it was early, for her standards, at least, Darcy fell into bed, collapsing against the covers with a silent scream, her feet tucked up under her. She hadn't even lain there a minute when she was asleep.

With the kind of dreams that could have stemmed directly from hallucinogenic substances plaguing her mind, Darcy woke with the taste of fuzz in her mouth, and her blankets and clothing tangled uncomfortably around her legs. Extricating herself from the messy nest, Darcy glanced out the prison-cell like window. Early morning. How delightfully brilliant. She changed quickly, opting just for the slight red underdress that she much preferred to the over robes. Considering this Prince was not one for protocol...

Darcy recognized she was being childish and then purposefully ignored it. Instead, to distract herself, she grabbed her hair in one hand and and clip in the other, winding it up against the back of her head as she turned the doorknob with an elbow, moving into the Prince's bedroom. Though she had no idea whether he would be asleep or awake, it turned out that the man was asleep. Darcy purposefully refrained from extrapolating beyond that data. Perhaps he was tired from traveling. Such things happened.

She knelt on the floor, then, waiting. Watching. And even when the tray came in with the Prince's breakfast, Darcy took it herself, and sent the messenger away, allowing him to sleep. But half an hour before the diplomatic meetings were supposed to start, she decided enough was enough. Setting aside the tray, Darcy sashayed over to the bed, kneeling beside it and informing the Prince, full volume, directly next to his head. not yelling, of course. Darcy didn't yell. But certainly not quieting her voice. "Your Highness, diplomatic meetings start in half an hour. I'd suggest you get up."