The Talamute Prince

Heather approached me after they took my tray from me. She bows her head still not making eye contact despite me treating them with respect.

"Thank you, Laoonica." Heather smiles.

"Your idea was amazing. I can tell you're not use to being treated as an equal." I respond. She nods silently as I look around. I know it's just a matter of time before I must let someone else style a dress for me. I stand and walk over to the curtains for a moment. I peek out at the guards standing on either side of the opening. A sigh escapes my lips.

"Is there something wrong?" Heather sees the longing in my eyes. It has been so long since I wasn't able to design my own clothing and the thought is somewhat troubling.

"I'm fine. thank you, Heather." Turning back to the room I see the seamstress standing patiently waiting for me to be ready. I glance around the room. I did hate the openness of this room. For all their technology they weren't very private about such things that they should be. I guess it would be a bit different if my husband had stayed with me. The temptation of those here would be lessened for fear of him. I got a chill thinking about the idea of him being in the bed with me.

"The seamstress is ready. Do you need to relieve yourself before we start?" Marcy asks as she views the message board by the door. It's like the panels on the ship only it announced schedules, visitors, and allowed for them to order things I needed without leaving my side. It was too bad it didn't announce Patrick. I could be so much more prepared mentally. Sometimes he catches me off my guard when he entered.

"I do need to refresh myself. I don't like the men on the balcony though." I stand and walk to behind the divider to use the restroom.

"Yes Tasha." I turn to see her holding my comforter from my bed. "Ah yes, that might work." They grabbed the corners and stood at the edge of the wall that hid the toilet.

"Thank you." I finish wash my hands then splash water on my face before I go out to the area where there's a stool for me to stand on. 'Well,' I think to myself, 'here it goes. The beginning of a control I guess Patrick truly wants over me.' An older lady and several women are standing with golden clothes of all kinds. Some lace, silk, cotton, and a synthetic cloth I've never seen before. They sat their things all around me organizing it into stacks.

"Your majesty I'm Callie the royal seamstress. It's my pleasure to make your dress for the coronation." I look at her for a second as she directs me to stand on a stool, she had brought with her to lift me up from the ground while measuring and pinning. I step up and stand perfectly still while looking into the mirror. My mind wonders as far away as it can. I don't want to be here. I barely remember my last fitting. I was extremely young, but it took hours. Although my attention span has matured, my attitude toward standing hours for someone who has never made a dress for you hadn't.

"Are you ready my queen?" The lady asks she is the first person not royalty who has looked me in the eyes. Studying the fabric, I cringe. I hate the color with my pale skin and dark hair it made me look so strange. The way the color reflects on me makes me feel invisible. That I suspect is what is intended. It is his coronation so the focus should be on him not his queen. I wish secretly that I could stay in my room and not attend at all. That would be better for all of us.

"I'm as ready as I ever will be." I watched the curtains blow in the breeze as the lady's worked hard to get everything just perfect. I allowed my hand maids to take a break as I was surrounded by the seamstress and her hands. The guards placed outside didn't appear to try to peek in. I just stood looking in the mirror watching the curtains in a daze. They sway back and forth in the light breeze and it's hypnotizing. I take a breath in exhaling slowly. What he'll have I allowed myself to be tricked into? How much must I be tormented for the 'gifts' I never asked for? I don't move or speak, simply think about every step that lead me here. An hour or more passes till I can't stand anymore.

"I need a break please." I stay still for a second knowing she must finish the part she was pinning.

"There you go, you may sit for a moment, your majesty. Thank you for not just jumping down." I sit on the stool and look out the curtains.

"There, he's returned." I hear one of the guards say. I look toward the window hearing some shuffling outside. I stand back up but all those in the room immediately surround me.

The guards that had been placed outside my doors rush in as well. "Damn it, he jumped." I hear them shout.

"Go after him." Other shouts and the two who rushed in rush out raising the alarm. I fear I'll never get a moments peace her and I beginning to miss home more and more.

The two who were outside my window come in the one with his arm over the others shoulder limping.

"The Talamute is gone. I'll get him down to the medical staff." the maids come back in as the soldiers leave. I sit for a moment still trying to see outside from here. I can't help but wonder if it was the one who had spoken to me before.

"When you're ready, your majesty." The seamstress says. I nod and climb back up to my perch. this time I don't turn from the balcony. I stand for what seems like forever.

"You look divine, my love." Patrick's voice makes me jump.

"Is it lunch time already?" My head jerks to his position and my gaze follows till he is within a foot of the women finishing up the last pins.

"Perfect timing your, Highness. You may disrobe as soon as you're ready." I grip Patrick's hand as he helps me maintain balance stepping down. I go behind my shoji screen. It was painted beautifully with flowers and delicate insects with bright colored wings. I'm not sure what they are but they are perfect. I pull off the hideous gold dress and toss drape it over the center piece. I slip into a casual sun dress.

"Is lunch on its way then?" I come back around the side and stare at him for a moment. The ladies gather their things, but they don't leave. Their machines for sewing are brought in. I'm somewhat surprised to see that they aren't that much different from my own other than the automated hands.

"Yes, it's right behind me. Should be here any minute. I heard there was an attempt to enter your quarters." I try to gage his emotional state regarding the continued attempt to get to me, instead of him.

"Do you think they know what I'm capable of?" He chuckles.

"Don't be silly, they're uncivilized heathens. They only wish to mate you to spite me. Why else would they drug you with a serum that guarantees conception? Or that's what they believe it does. All that I've seen of it is that it makes it impossible to not be turned on when touched." I shiver a bit. Patrick walks over and grabs my shoulders.

"I'm fine, oh look our meal is here." I see the panel by the door light up alerting the presences of a guest.

"I take it you're hungry." He lets go and walks over to allow them entrance.

"Yes." I'm starving but that's not why I distracted him with the fact lunch was here. He looked like he was about to kiss me. I knew doing so earlier would send him the message that I wanted him to, but what else was I to do? His anger would have made him lash out at the only people who treat me as I do them. Besides to punish a woman for being smarter than you is wrong, no matter where in the universe you're from.

"Here you are, my love." He pulls my chair out. I take it as he scoots me in. Once he's taken his seat across from me the trays are served.

"Why don't they test the food brought here?" I haven't seen a tray scanned that's been brought in.

"They're scanned before they enter the room. There's no need to bring those devices in here. The wind could blow in pollen and because it's foreign to the food it could read as a poison." The doors are shut now so I'm not sure if he's telling the truth. Is it to the point I don't trust him at all? What if it wasn't the Talamute trying to drug my food? What if it was a tactic to scare me so I would do what he wants?

"I do enjoy your technology." He takes a bite of his food. I only stare at my plate. This meal whatever it was didn't look so tasty.

"What is this?" He glances at me.

"Boiled heart of a dragonarch." Even the smell is torture. It's not so bad that you can't breathe but it doesn't smell pleasant either.

"I'm sorry, a what?" He pauses chewing the bite in his mouth then taking a drink to wash it down.

"It's a large very dangerous creature that even the Talamute fear. It's a delicacy here. We only hunt enough once a year to feed the royal family a heart a piece." I'm not sure what to think but I don't want anything to do with eating this.

"You kill it just for its heart?" he stops eating and wipes his mouth. My lips quiver as they hold back the nausea building behind them.

"That bothers you. You ate meat on the ship." I know he's right, but this feels different.

"The meats you served on the ship were dishes from my home world. My traditions state that every part of an animal is used. Nothing goes to waste. If you bought those meats from my mother as I suspect you did then they were not wasted and thanks to the life givers were offered upon their deaths." He doesn't have any expression what-so-ever on his face.

"The beasts are dangerous; they are top of the line predators that would eat you in a second given the chance. Yes, we hunt them four their hearts." I watch as he picks up his knife and fork and continues to eat his meal.

I stand from the table and walk to the curtains. The floral aroma blocks out the smell of the cooked heart.

"I take it you're not going to eat then?" I don't turn to look at him. I pull the curtain aside but don't step through.

"I've lost my appetite." I hear a growl muffled by his chewing.

"The coordination dinner will include some other delicacies, are you going to refuse them as well?" I turn filling my hand with sparks and toss it at his plate.

"Don't ever try to force me to eat a meal processed against my beliefs. That line I will not cross." I have everyone's undivided attention now, including Patrick's. His eyes widen with his hand shaking slightly while his heart still burns blue in front of him.

"I won't have them served to you; I'll inform the chef's that your culture requires a more delicate approach. Nothing that hasn't been properly handle won't touch your plate." The seamstress is going back to pulling out the pins of the dress that has already been sown by the machine. My maids stand at the foot of my bed and quickly drop their heads back to the floor. The only ones still looking are the servers who seem terrified of me now. At least someone takes my powers as a serious threat.

"See that you do that, your highness." He stands to approach me cautiously while the servers clear the table dousing the flames by cutting off the air supplies with the dome tray cover.

"I'll see you for dinner in the main hall with the family." I don't answer him. His face doesn't turn colors like I had expected it to. He simply bows and he and his guards leave.

"Somebody, get me out of this hell." I say in a softness I think no one else hears. They don't seem to respond if they did. He's so different than he pretended to be, and each meeting seems to reveal something else I can't stand about him.