Accept

The lead ambassador ended up being someone who looked like an older Simon with a sharper gaze. It sent shivers down Cathlinn's spine as she stood nervously in front of him. He was eyeing her curiously as she had put on boots, trousers, a white blouse, and her jacket. He tapped at a pile of letters, a grin slowly spreading on his face as he motioned for her to sit. "You seem ready to settle down? Even like," he motioned at her, "this?"

"I'm not ready to settle down. I need to know what the options are," she took the seat, sitting up straight and her fingers fidgeting. "I wanted to see who was who."

"So, are you testing the waters," he asked slowly. He seated himself as well, frowning slightly as she took the letters and opened them. "Your highness, you're basically accepting their invitations by doing this, you realize that?"

"How do you judge a man," Cathlinn asked as her eyes scanned the paper. The handwriting was fancy and there was unnecessary ornamentation at the corners of the paper. "I base it off his ethic and character," the silence from the ambassador had told her he was confused. It was a weird question to ask and she understood that.

"What does that have to do with a royal marriage," he chuckled.

"That man will rule the country, won't he," Cathlinn asked. The ambassador sat up straight and frowned, slowly nodding as she continued, "So I want someone who's honest, hard working, patient, and flexible. I have to meet the person to know them right? And besides, I don't want to marry someone I can't fall in love with."

"Your highness," the ambassador choked and leaned forward, taking the letters before she could open more. She stared at his befuddled expression, his wide eyes on her, "This isn't a fairy tale."

"Don't lecture me," Cathlinn sniffed, "Love is a choice, not an emotion. I choose men over self entitled brats. Am I clear?" He flinched back as she tapped a bit on the desk with her nails.

"What is that supposed to mean," he questioned quietly.

"Do you love your wife," Cathlinn motioned to the ring on his finger and he quickly hid his hands.

"I do," he responded.

"Even when she gets unbearable and needy or distant and sick," Cathlinn raised an eyebrow and the ambassador blinked. She pulled the letters back to her and continued staring at them. "I'll take that as a yes."

"Why wouldn't I live my wife," he snapped, "My relationship doesn't have anything to do with yours."

"I want something stable, ambassador," she quipped. Her heart began racing as she tapped the desk again. "I want something that will feel whole and make me feel safe and warm. I don't want butterflies or tingly feelings. Those are supposed to be earned and not provoked."

"You sound like a romantic," he sniffed.

"And what if I am," Cathlinn stood up after the last letter was opened. One pile was to her right and a larger pile to her left. "The ones on my right had simple letters. I want to meet them first. The ones on the left are gaudy so let them stew for a while."

The table was quiet as Cathlinn picked at her food. Everyone was in hushed conversation and eating away but she couldn't push any food into her mouth. She was uncomfortable, the queen sitting across from her smiling with a sickening sweetness. It wasn't okay that she was seated there and hadn't been found out yet. Cathlinn places her utensils down and the king glanced at her.

"Monique, what's wrong this evening," he asked. She blinked and stared at him. His expression was softer, kinder than before and he seemed genuinely worried for her. She quickly shook her head and forced a small smile.

"Nothing your majesty, just not hungry," she replied. The king slowly nodded as the queen stared and she gasped softly.

"Is it morning sickness," she cooed. The whole table went silent and Cathlinn stared at her in disbelief.

"Are you shitting me," Cathlinn snapped. The women at the table gasped while the men stared in shock. "The fuck is that about? I'm not a slut."

"Monique, darling," the queen gasped, "Watch your mouth!"

"Then watch yours," Cathlinn retorted. "Queen or not, you should be above some fucking rumors; starting them or otherwise." It was like a switch was flipped inside Cathlinn's head but she knew why. She was passed stressed out, passed the panic attacks even as one threatened to swing through her chest once more.

"Your highness," Cathlinn looked to Carmichael who walked forward. His helmet was under one arm while he held the other out. "Duties are calling, your highness. Your responses to the letters have been received and Ambassador Freighter wishes to go over the reception." Cathlinn stared at his arm for a minute before facing the king and giving a bow instead of a curtsey.

"I'll be taking my leave, your majesty," she muttered.

The king stared for a moment before glancing at the queen, a sigh leaving his chest, "We will discuss your decorum later." Cathlinn turned and walked ahead of Carmichael, his footsteps having to shuffle quickly to keep up with her.

"Cathlinn, what was that," he grabbed her arm and pulled her back, his voice hushed in case someone was close. He knelt to her height and paused, staring at her face. Cathlinn wasn't showing a lick of emotion, her senses lost in the panic attack that was cutting her breath short.

"I won't sit and take that," she stated bluntly, "So I reacted how any person would. Damn the fucking manners."

Carmichael rubbed between his eyes, "Gods help me. Your temper is out of control. You need to reel it in."

"Defense mechanism," Cathlinn mumbled. "Did you get anything about the queen?" She watched his lips form a thin line as he took a sharp breath.

"Are you panicking right now," he asked.

"Does it fucking matter," Cathlinn snarled. "Do you have anything for me or not? I need viable facts before I talk to the fucking king about his fucking wife."

"Your mother is already being investigated," Carmichael froze and his face turned white as Cathlinn looked over at the king. He looked worn out and tired, even with his head held high.

"Your majesty," Cathlinn bowed slowly, only for her arm to be held and her body moved upwards.

"You're not my daughter," the king stated. "But you are still trying to replace what holes she left and you're doing so in a place you don't know. It takes a lot of courage and grit to do what you're doing."Cathlinn choked a bit, forcing her hands to stay at her sides as she focused on the king's nose. She didn't want to lose control anymore than she had and she'd die doing so.

"I want to know why you suspect Asha," he nodded. "And I want to know what you suspect her of."

Cathlinn saw the signs of hurt in his eyes, her heart aching for him, "You love her. You can choose to do as you wish. At the moment, I'm willing to be the one to put her away." His eyes widened, as did Carmichael's. How many people had she been surprising lately with what she did?

"You're compassionate too, I see," the king nodded slowly and gave a small smile. "Maybe I shouldn't push you away any farther hm?" Cathlinn blinked back tears as the king ruffled her hair gently.

"Do-do as you wish, your majesty," Cathlinn gave a small bow and rubbed at her face to get the moisture from her eyes. "I will keep you updated through Carmichael. He's proven to be reliable and loyal."

"Please do," the king nodded and turned around, walking back for the dining hall.