The Talamute Prince

I watch the sun drift lazily across the morning sky.

"Your majesty, lunch is here." I turn to see the older maid open the curtain and steps to the side holding the opening for me to come through. I hesitate for a moment, but it appears she wasn't just holding it for me. Patrick steps to the other side just inside the room.

"Have you been out here all morning?" He asks with one side of his lips curled.

"It feels different out here compared to those walls. Did you find the Talamute?" I walk into him at which point he turns to a small dining table to the other side of the bed. I hadn't really paid attention to it or was it even there before.

"No. The security feed shows exactly what you described. They did seem to notice you were watching them as well." I could hear grinding noises coming between his words.

"Yes, they did. The one pointed the other one out. Where there more than two or do you know?" I'm not sure why he seemed to be so aggravated.

"We Don't have a clue how many there were but the one with the thick black hair is their prince, their next in line. I have a feeling their king has either passed or is fixing to and he wishes to make a name for himself." The food smelled delicious as it was pushed over on a hovering cart.

"Perhaps, or just maybe he wants to have a peaceful interaction and was trying to find a way to do so." My eyes widen at the site of the bounty of food set between us.

"I doubt it. My father was kind enough not to slaughter them when they took the women. I trust they have rebuilt their numbers and want war."

"It sounds terrifying. I'm not much of a fighter myself. I can't help but defend myself, but I can't do all those fighting moves without being threatened."

"You don't need to fight my love. You're well protected here." My fork twists into the noodles on my plate. Knowing that I can only fight when threatened is a problem. I'm quite a bit stronger than his race of beings but only under those circumstances. I wanted to be able to defend myself without reaching the point my powers take over.

"And what happens if they defeat your people? Am I to be left with no way to fight?"

"They won't win."

"But if they do?"

"They won't, but if they did, I guess at that point it wouldn't matter if your powers spilled out and destroyed everything. Because in order to get to you, everyone else would be dead already." I merely take a bite of my food turning my head back to see what the maids were doing. It appeared they were getting my things ready but for what?

"Am I expected to be somewhere?" I question his motives for coming to eat lunch with me.

"My mother is throwing a welcome banquet this evening. I was hoping you would be able to stop hating me for one meal."

"I don't hate you, Patrick. I just strongly don't like you. There is a difference."

"I'm not sure I can tell between the two. Sometimes you seem so distant."

"If I hated you, I would never have agreed to come with you no matter the what else possibly awaited me."

"What do you mean? Is there some other motive to you coming here?" I tilt my head to the side staring at him.

"My goal, no matter what else comes up, has always been to find a way to control my powers or to be isolated to prevent harm to life. This hasn't change just because you lied, cheated, and tricked me into being your wife."

"So, then you still hope to be able to forgive me?" Those heavenly eyes beg for an answer I can't give him.

"Is there a reason they are choosing my clothes for me?" avoiding the question is my only option as to not reveal the dream of my father. There's a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that my answers lay with the Talamute not the Raspites.

"It'll be a formal, so you won't be able to wear one of your sundresses. I suppose I'll have to get our seamstress to come up and meet with you. She can help you design more appropriate dresses for such occasions." How dare he suggest such a thing.

"I'm more than capable of making my own clothes." He backs down.

"I'm sure they have found on that is suitable. You will attend the dinner." I'm not sure if the latter was a question or an order.

"I'm quite full." He looks at my plate with his eyebrows raised.

"You've barely touched anything on your plate. Do you not like the flavor? It's a bit different than what you're used to." Without blinking or flinching I respond to his questions brutally.

"It isn't the meal, it's the company." He places his fork and knife down. He glares at me due to my harsh words.

"I've upset you, I'm sorry." I just stare unresponsive. Deep down I just want him to leave and not come back. I really don't want to go to his banquet either. If I thought I had a choice in it, I wouldn't go. "Leave the food." He says to the younger maid. "If you will excuse me, I have things to prepare for. I'll be back at seven to retrieve you for dinner." He stands, bows, and walks to the door. I can tell he is pouting more than a bit at the fact I refuse to eat with him.

"You should be careful, Laoonica. Pushing me away won't get either of us anywhere." He left on those words.

"Your majesty, are you done?" The older maid asks.

"Yes." I push the tray away. "Please call me Laoonica, at least when he isn't around." The woman smiles.

"You are very perceptive. He would indeed punish us for not being formal in any situation." The woman's voice is kind, it reminds me of my guard.

"Is it true what he said about her?" I glance at the youngest one.

"Her name is Tasha, and yes she is half Talamute. Her mother and the king's sister, or well I guess since Patrick is king it would mean the Kings aunt, were best friends." Tasha won't even raise her eyes to address me. I wonder what horrors have been placed upon her to make her this way.

"I would like to know all of your names, please. I'd rather not just say hey you when I do need something." I smile.

"I am Marcy. Heather is the other one ironing the wrinkles from the most formal dress you have." It's a full-length white dress with no embroidery, flowers, or decorations. In fact, it's one I made to stay in the room aboard the ship so that I could just relax.

"That's what your people call formal?" I walk over to the bed and flop down face first.

"Are you okay your... Laoonica?" Marcy asks.

"Yes. I'm just going to curl up here and take a small nap." I wiggle my way into the top blanket and bury my face into the pillow. The last thing I want is to have people watch as I cry myself to sleep.

"Laoonica." I jerk awake. I had hoped I would have a dream of my father but with how tired and stressed I was after all of this I guess my body just needed rest.

"Is it time for dinner?" sitting up I rub my eyes and glance over at Tasha who is standing by the vanity.

"No, but it will take time to bathe and ready you for it." The other one, Heather, says as she opens the shower and starts the water.

"I really don't need help getting ready." I climb to my feet and move toward the shower. The wall that separates it from the room only hides it from the door and the balcony. I still see most of the room.

"We have to make sure your hair and makeup are correct in the fashion of our people; I'm surprised he didn't insist on you are being fitted for a new gown." I can hear Marcy through the door as I soak in the warmth of the water cascading down my body.

"They are very particular about how royalty should be dressed. None of the dresses you have fit into their traditions."

"I'm not here to fit in." I say. I wash the dirt and sweat from my body and hair then step out as a huge fluffy towel is wrapped around me.

"This is the closest thing you have, and it is very plane compared to what they will be wearing."

"It's not a dress, it's basically a night gown." They all look at me with surprise.

"We have to pick a different one then." Heather insist frantically going through my other dresses.

"There aren't any others that would pass at a formal dinner." Marcy says.

"I'll wear it." Again, all eyes fall on me as though some strange force was going to come in and destroy everything if I wore that dress.

"We can't allow you to wear such garments to a dinner. How about this one?" Heather pulled a spaghetti string black dress from the back.

"That one isn't mine. I'm not entirely sure how it got in there." I grip it and look at the material. There hadn't been any black cloth in the materials brought to me so where did this one come from?

"It's way better than the white one." Marcy said. They begin grabbing my undergarments and aiding me in putting them on. For the most part that consists of me grabbing things out of their hands and doing it myself.

"I can't wear those." Marcy has handed me a pair of black heals.

"They match the dress."

"I can't walk in heals." I hand them back to her.

"I don't see any others that will match it." She tries to hand them back but on this I refuse.

"I'd rather go barefoot then break my neck trying to walk in those." They exchange worried glances then dig through the shoes I had.

"Here, these aren't the same shade, but they are still the closest thing you have to match." I put on the dark blue flats.

"Please, sit down. Tasha here knows all the latest styles and make-up trends for the royal family." I sit in the chair in front of the mirror staring at the top of the dress. I can't help but wonder where the damn thing came from. I don't like blacks, I like color, bright vibrant colors. I'm finally done. I stare at the stranger sitting across from me. This is it; this is the start of being conformity. I look as though I'm ready for a funeral not a dinner.

"Can I have just a moment alone please." Marcy looks at the twinkle of liquid forming in my eyes and she shews the other girls out. I walk out onto the balcony. Screaming wouldn't be met with open arms, so I just stare off into the distance. To my surprise I'm not the only one who is out looking around. There's one of the cloaked me across the way standing on the top of a building. I watch him raise his hand to acknowledge me then jump down out of sight.

"You look amazing." Patrick's voice breaks through the curtains.

"I look like I'm going to a funeral. Where did this dress come from?" Standing their face to face with him I can see the truth before he speaks. "I don't like the dress at all it isn't me."

"It's just for the dinner."

"If the dinner is to welcome me then you have failed to make me feel accepted." He glances down at my shoes.

"Just bear with me on this. I take it the shoes didn't fit." He steps toward me and I push past him going inside.

"I can't wear heels; you should already know that." I stop at the door waiting for him to join me.

"Your maids will teach you. We should be going. The last thing you want to do is be late for the first official dinner." I don't say anything but take his elbow as the doors are opened for us. If this is how I'm expected to dress, I don't think I'll be leaving my room much. I'm not at all interested in this dinner, but I figure if I refuse to go it would only make me feel more isolated.