simonjager

[simonjager]

lecia.​​

-

“What rack?” A disembodied voice floated in through a square vent on the wall. Somewhere in the background, Valko admonished the other prince - yeah, what rack, that’s really disrespectful - while simultaneously refusing to contain his gleeful grin.

It had been a process, but she’d finally loosened the screws enough that she thought she could break through. Their talking had masked the sound of her poking about, but things were going to get noisy. Lecia squeezed herself around, hitting the walls of the vent several times. She positioned her feet toward the opening, and kicked it as hard as she could.

Once. Twice. Finally, on the fifth attempt, one side of the metal grate ripped free of the wall. She nudged it out of the way with her foot, and she shimmied through the opening. In a half-crawl, half-slithering motion, she spilled out of the wall.

She took one quick look around the room.

“Simon, I am looking for you everywhere,” she said, a wave of confusion passing over her features. From inside the wall, the prisoners had sounded as if they were doing okay. She had not expected to find one laying on the floor in a puddle of… she lifted her foot, and the sole of her oversized, borrowed, sneakers resisted. Something sticky, whatever it was.

She pulled a large knife with a ruby encrusted hilt out of her pocket.

“Okay,” she said with a sigh. Time to get to work. She crouched beside Simon first, sawing away at the bonds that tied his hands to the chair. “You are both being lucky, yes? They use rope. Not the plastic bracelets or the metal. I do not like those. This is being fast for cutting.” True to form, the rope quickly began to fray.

“The door is locked or no?”

-

A voice from above caused Simon to flinch in surprise. Was that--could it really be Lecia? He twisted a bit to stare up at the vent as it rattled and eventually fell to the floor. “Lecia,” he said, barely processing what she was saying. He felt guilty all of the sudden for not looking for her, even though he’d been captured and trapped in this room for god knows how long. “Thank god you’re all right. Where did you get that--” Simon stopped himself from asking about the knife. Did it really matter? He was glad she had it.

She knelt beside him and started cutting away the binds on his wrists. The shock of Lecia hopping out of the wall wore off quickly--Simon had a feeling she’d evaded capture, or else the mild paranoia and preparations to prevent what had happened to her would have been all for naught. He just hoped her safety wasn’t wishful thinking on his part.

“I am not sure of the door,” Simon answered, slowly pulling his arms apart as the rope dropped away. He shifted his legs to see how far he could move his ankles, but he was still quite tied to the chair. Looking down at his hands and the bright red marks from the rough rope, the gravity of the situation weighed on him once again. The diverting conversation with Valko had been oddly... enlightening, but anything was better than being tied to a chair.

“Who else is looking for us? Are you the only one? Where is your father? How... long were you in the vent?” If Lecia overheard what he’d told Valko... Dread pooled heavily in his stomach and he had to talk himself out of feeling sick.

[simonjager]

valko.

-

Well damn. That was… a tale as old as time. Valko stifled a yawn. No one married for love in this business, though a lot of people liked to pretend. Maybe that one chick that married the pirate captor. Maybe. Then again, it was just as possible it was all a stunt to further solidify all the new pirate friendly policies. Hard to say. What came first, chicken or egg, sort of deal.

Falling over would hurt, but Valko began to wonder if it wouldn’t be more comfortable laying on the floor. Easier to sleep that way rather than sitting upright. Of course, if he fell over and hit his head, them going to sleep immediately wasn’t advisable. But who was going to stop him, the Jager-man?

“Yep,” he answered, pursing his lips. Still caught up in how to construct a safe-ish fall.

“I keep her far away from all this royal shit. Including myself.”

He paused.

“Listen, bud, there’s nothing wrong with marrying someone you don’t love. Especially in our line of work. They’re just going to get abducted or held hostage or whatever flavor of the week, you know?” he said, “Find someone royal, who already has that target on their back, someone who isn’t going to poison your tea, preferably. You’re golden. That’s as good as it’s going to get.”

Worst case scenario, get betrothed then avoid setting a date. It’s wasn’t as hard as people might think. After all, Valko had been promised to the Russians since he was like nine. They hadn’t gotten him down the aisle yet.

“So who is it that you’ve been in love with the whole time, Jager?”

-

Valko made a good point, especially considering their current prediction. Marrying for love when so many were out to hurt you and your family was rather foolish. A perfect setup to repeat what happened on the island. A wife gone missing, never to come home. Simon winced and squeezed his eyes shut. His head hurt, his thoughts hurt.

So who was he in love with? Not someone he kept at arm’s length for protection, that was for sure. She had already experienced this danger, unlike him, and he supposed he was foolish enough to think she had endured enough. And yet, here they were. Damn the spineless calls for diplomacy, damn it all. Simon boiled with aimless rage. 

His voice stayed low as if he was speaking to the floor. “I am in love with my fiancée. ‘Nice rack.’”

@infantacardoza​​

[simonjager]

valko.

-

They were good movies. Obviously just another thing Jägermeister hadn’t experienced in person. Poor guy. What did he even do all day, stare at the wall? Scowl into the mirror? He was going to give himself wrinkles. There were, of course, other options of recreation for a prince stuck in a palace by himself all day, but Valko seriously doubted Austria was indulging in any of them.

He raised a single eyebrow at the apology.

“Why?”

Seriously, though. They could die in here. Did this guy really want to spend his last moments playing diplomatic monarchs? He seriously needed to chill. Had the mountain not been a sanctuary from the less tolerable leaders of the world (with a few brief interludes), Valko might have invited Simon for a visit. Free of charge. He rarely remembered to charge anyway.

“Have you ever thought… maybe… if you expressed your true feelings more, you wouldn’t be such a bitch?” he asked, genuinely curious.

They really did need to get back to the whole concussion thing. Head pain was no joke. He should really ask if Austria knew his own name or what year it was. To be fair, it was promising that he could recall Valko’s name. Especially as they were not particularly close acquaintances. At least, not before this whole closet debacle.

“Like what is something you’ve always wanted to say, about anything at all, and you’ve never said it?” he continued, “And what if you just said it? Right now. There’s no one here. I can’t record you to prove it later.”

-

“Maybe,” Simon agreed quietly.

Simon wondered if he was suffering from a concussion. Valko was making... sense, and speaking about things that were slightly more relevant to their current situation.

Not only that, but Simon actually felt compelled to talk about things he had never brought up with anyone. Maybe it was because he hit his head, or because there was a chance they wouldn’t live to see the sunrise, or both.

“I don’t think I ever truly loved Ingrid. My first wife.” He knew he would have to clarify who his first wife was if Valko hadn’t heard about his current fiancée. “I thought I was in love, back then, but now I... realize how little I felt for her as more than a friend.”

Simon really wasn’t sure if this was helping, or making him feel worse, and yet he couldn’t seem to stop rambling. Who cares, if they were just going to be killed by pirates?

“Have you ever... been in love?”

[simonjager]

valko.

-

Silence filled the small space, and dragged on so long that it quite possible Valko had dozed off for a moment. It was getting kinda late. He dropped his chin, tilting his head to the side. Matching the way the other prince was facing. What a strange question - and that was coming from Valko, who didn’t often chose to judge as it was bad for the chakras according to an insta post he’d read - but strange considering their current predicament.

Not to mention everything that had happened during previous abductions. Had this guy even talked to his fiancée before? Maybe not, actually. Which would explain why he was so opposed to getting freaky. Valko could understand the need to meet someone in person and feel out the vibe first.

“They made us watch, all of us, when they murdered that girl from the Ukraine. Sword through the chest, not a great way to go. That was a warning.”

Did he think pirates would hurt anyone? Well, based on everyone’s past experience…

Maybe Austria had hit the floor harder than Valko had realized. He glanced down at the marble tiling, but didn’t see any telltale stains. No dark spots oozing near the prince’s head.

“But how about we table that conversation for a few,” he said, “I’m going to ask you a few questions okay? Are you dizzy? Does your head hurt? Have you watched any of the Fast and Furious movies?”

-

They made us watch.

No one spoke more than a word or two of it, not to the press, not to loved ones--perhaps in the closed door meeting of the security council at the summit after the island rescue, details had been revealed. Simon’s father, who only heard of the murder secondhand, would not even speak of it. There were so many others that had lost their lives on that island, it was hard to dwell on just one.

But it was a message. Every royal was made to watch, unlike the chaos of the last night there.

Simon couldn’t bear to think about it--any of it, he’d worked too hard on controlling his thoughts around everything lost that night. The reality of living through something similar again, when he was trapped in this room with no idea where Lecia was, if she was safe.

Simon squeezed his eyes shut, his whole face pinched. “My head hurts. Everything hurts.” Simon tried to breathe like he was taught. In and then out and then in again.

“What is with you and those movies?” Simon snapped. He glared up at the other prince and after a couple more breaths his expression softened until a worried frown. “I’m--sorry, Valko.”

[simonjager]

valko.

-

He watched the other prince struggle without commenting. They weren’t going anywhere without something sharp to cut the bonds, but most people had to learn that lesson the hard way at least once. Apparently Austria hadn’t yet. Probably hadn’t ever woken up in a dingy flat in Queenstown, covered in glitter and tied to someone’s radiator. He didn’t look the type. 

Valko didn’t even flinch when the chair hit the ground.

“Damn.” That sucked. “Take a few deep breaths, my guy.”

Cursing could be a form of meditation in its own way. Plus that had to have hurt. These marble floors were no joke. Knock your head against one hard enough, and you would be down for the count. Permanently. All things considered, Valko would have been a little concerned if Simon hadn’t been cursing.

“But yeah pirate island was hook up central,” he said, when the yelling died down. “There wasn’t a whole lot else to do, and some of those pirates were thirsty. We did have a gym and a smoothie bar. The cinema was non-stop dirty movies no matter how many times I asked to watch Tokyo Drift. Oh except one time they let me watch Empire Records. The buffet was good though.”

Valko sighed. The buffet had been good, but thinking about plates of shrimp made him think about what he would pair it with. Thinking about what he would pair it with made him think of his drink. Which was now a puddle on the floor underneath a sideways prince. Better to have loved and lost and all that.

“So you don’t want to get freaky with anyone? Not even your fiancée? You got yourself tied up in one of those arranged marriages then?”

-

Lying on his side on the hard floor was horrifically uncomfortable, and Simon had no way of righting himself or changing his position. And yet he wasn’t at a point yet where he’d start yelling for help--he wasn’t that desperate, even with Valko as company.

There were so many things Simon wished to unpack about Valko’s description of the island. On the one hand, it sounded like some kind of horrible reality show, but then it also sounded extremely dull too. Out of all of that, Simon heard himself ask: “Tokyo... Drift? Of the Fast and Furious films?”

What kind of monsters wouldn’t acquiesce to a movie request? The island was a prison, to be sure, but then it also sounded as if the royals enjoyed the same amenities, like the gym and the smoothie bar. The more Simon thought about it, the stranger it sounded. What a dreadful thing to endure.

“No,” Simon retorted immediately. Realizing he’d just established a confusing double negative, he let out an audible breath and tried to clarify without having to repeat the words get freaky with my fiancée. “My engagement was arranged, but Lecia and I lo--” Simon stopped himself. What was he even saying? Valko didn’t ask if they--loved each other, they were having a separate and more upsetting conversation. Whether or not Simon had ever told Lecia I love you was not in question.

"Lecia and I are very happy,” Simon said firmly. He also didn’t feel the need to mention Valko’s infuriating statement differentiating Lecia from other princesses was also true. There were more pressing matters at hand, anyway. “Do you think the pirates will hurt anyone?”

[simonjager]

valko.

-

“ - to meet Lecia.”

“Awww,” said Valko, encouragingly. He wasn’t sure why. After all his drink was gone, and it wasn’t like pretending to be invested in Simon’s romantic capers would bring it back. Maybe he was bored. Maybe there was just something nice about the hopeful vibe of young royals in love. Well, the chick was on the younger side anyway.

“Our hands are tied, but we have feet.”

If they could get their shoes off. Valko lifted his head. His gaze wandered around the room before settling on Simon’s shoes. There he seemed to daze off a bit. He was thinking. Not only about the shoe thing, but the fact that he seriously doubted someone like Simon did yoga. The guy was too uptight. Too unhappy. Which, in turn, meant they were going to have some serious leg flexibility issues if and when they got as far as retrieving the glass. So how would Simon cut the ropes? 

He exhaled loudly. Thinking was beginning to give him a headache.

“Of course it’s pirates,” he answered, “Unless it’s Russians. In which case… we’re screwed. The Russians are crazy, bro. Pirates will just kill us. Or try to sleep with us.” Valko remained slouched in his chair, making no effort to free himself from the bonds. Why waste the energy.

“And some of them are pretty fine, not gonna lie. But like… eh. I don’t personally think it’s a good idea? But feel free, I’m not going to judge you if you want to get freaky with pirates. You do you, Jagermeister.”

-

Hard frown lines appeared on Simon’s face when Valko suggested the pirates would just try to kill or sleep with them. But he somehow thought those options were worse than whatever the Russians would do them? Wasn’t he engaged to Princess Karolina? Simon didn’t want to bring that up.

“I don’t want to get freaky with anyone... and now I feel compelled to ask... when you say the pirates would try to, uhm, sleep with us, is this from, err, personal experience?”

Simon knew damn well not to bring up the island specifically, but in so many words he just had. He wouldn’t dare ask a question like that to Lecia or even Herzog, it was just that Valko had a sense of openness unlike most royals Simon knew. The prince felt a bit guilty for posing the question though, when they should have been devising a plan to escape the next time the door opened. Simon struggled again at the restraints, more forceful this time, trying to wriggle his ankles free of the rope and also move the chair closer to the door. Instead he fell over sideways and landed hard on his shoulder.

“Scheiss,” he swore, followed by a longer string of curse words.

[simonjager]

valko.

-

Oh no. 

“Bruh…” That one word was all Valko could manage. He sagged in his chair, and stared sadly at the puddle of wasted spirits. Suddenly the wise words of a world famous band came to mind: did it ever drive him crazy, just how fast the night changes? One minute a person could be lounging around eating chocolates with a dowager queen, having a really great time. A couple hours later they were tied to a chair in the worst company.

Valko was so distraught, he didn’t even point out Simon’s mistake in calling someone a fiancée without having even proposed yet. Which was jumping the gun a bit. Bold of him to assume she’d say yes.

“I mean, yeah, I had a chat with the guy,” Valko sighed, “I don’t think he really appreciated what I had to say. He was not matching my energy, if you know what I mean, and that’s such an important part of making a connection. Plus he was looking for kings and tsars and shit.”

Then he’d been punched in the face, and that was that. With another heaving sigh, Valko let his head roll back against the top of the chair. He closed his eyes. If he couldn’t drink, maybe he could nap instead.

“You know that glass might have been able to cut through these ties. Too bad we can’t reach it now. But anyway… how about you? What got you dragged you in here?”

-

Looking for kings and tsars. Simon dropped his head and squeezed his eyes shut to try and think, since Valko felt the need to include way too many extraneous details and not enough pertinent information to their predicament.

Simon’s mother and father were probably in danger, then. The kidnappers were looking for higher ranked royals. For what? And were they keeping princes and princesses locked up just to keep them out of the way, or for something else?

“I was...” Simon tried to conjure up the last few moments before things went black and he woke up here. “Walking toward the entrance to meet Lecia. We were supposed to take a car to where we are staying for the night with our families. Then two people with guns came out of a side room and grabbed me. They didn’t even say anything, they just hit me in the back of the head and then I woke up here.”

Simon shot Valko a sour frown. “Even if we could reach a piece of glass, how would we cut the rope with our hands tied?” Simon tried to pull at his restraints again, struggling in place in hopes one of the ties would loosen enough for him to move. But it was no use. He sighed. He couldn’t stand being stuck here, and not just because he was with Valko. Feeling useless in this situation was not an option.

“So all we know is that people with guns are taking people hostage... And they are looking for high ranking royals... Do you think it could be pirates? Or someone else?”

[simonjager]

valko.

- 

“Cardoza…”

Princess. Lecia. Valko stared blankly at the fussy Austrian prince as several seconds passed. Nothing was coming to mind. Cardoza meant Portuguese, though. Portugal meant beaches. He wasn’t altogether fond of beaches these days, but that was beside the point. Using every ounce of brainpower he had (might have been easier if he had a drink), he could vaguely drudge up the wisp of a memory of the Portuguese royal family.

“Is she the one with the nice rack or the one that hosts the Flower Festival?” he asked at long last, “I fucking love the Flower Festival. If you haven’t been, it sounds lame, but it’s a real party. I’m telling you.”

The drink barely moved closer, but slight cooperation on Simon’s part was enough to get Valko re-motivated. He began scooting the chair again. Still moving in the same direction. He wanted his drink, after all, not the door. He wasn’t going anywhere near that door. There were pirates out there.

“Oh wait, you said on the island? Nice rack, then. That’s cool too. Isn’t she kinda stabby? I guess you can’t blame people getting a bit stabby after all the torture,” mused Valko, “I saw a guy lose his finger to a water saw, and he wasn’t even getting tortured. So who even knows what was happening below ground, you know? But uh… congrats, man. When’s the big day?”

-

Simon’s foot absolutely itched to kick over the glass and watch Valko’s shocked face. He was being rude, but seemed to have no idea, carrying on like that. Simon took one long, practiced deep breath. No need to lose his cool.

Nice rack, then.

His resistance held on for only a few more seconds, and not even the congratulations stopped Simon knocking over the glass with one swift kick. “Oops, I thought it was further away.” His apology was hardly heartfelt. 

Valko needed to learn some manners when speaking about women, so no more drinks while they were stuck together. “Thank you. We have not set a date yet. I was going to give her a ring tonight, to make things more official. But I did not find a chance, and now she... Well, she’s probably found it by now, it is in the coat I lent her.”

Simon paused, completely lost in thought. Where was Lecia? Was she okay? What if she was trapped in a room this size?

“Did you hear anything before they captured you?”

[simonjager]

valko.

-

“Oh that’s your first mistake, champ. Never leave your phone with your assistant.”

Valko’s heart swelled as the glass moved half an inch. He tried to meet it in the middle, heaving himself forward and only managing to scoot his chair about the same distance. He paused. Let out a great sigh. Then tried again. While he worked diligently at the task of trying to move his chair toward his drink, he continued to speak.

“I know what you’re thinking. It’s like… hold this phone for the night, do not let me call my exes. Next thing you know, you’re getting your door kicked in by masked gunman. I’ve been there. Trust me, it’s easier to just hook up with your ex.”

Time for a break. He’d made it at least half a foot closer.

“You know what I recommend? Hand written letters. Ditch the phone altogether. There’s something really personal and intrinsically beautiful about letters, and… could you nudge that glass a little farther?” Really, though. He was doing all the work here.

-

Simon watched incredulously as Valko scooted his chair closer to the glass. Which, incidentally, scooted his chair further away from what Simon made out to be the door. He made a sound like he was about to speak but it was lost in another hiss.

“Lecia is my fiancée.”

His past dealings with the Bulgarian crown prince had been purposefully brief. Simon realized with what little insight he had about Valko that supplying him with a drink at this point would be problematic. He thought to kick the drink over, but stopped himself. Simon shifted and scooted his chair forward, closer to the drink, but more importantly, the door.

“Listen. You are closest to the door. But it is behind you. If you can scoot backward, I will push your drink toward you. In the meantime, we need to figure out how to get untied.”

Simon nudged the glass carefully with the toe of his shoe, giving Valko a scrutinizing gaze. “You do not know the Princess Lecia Cardoza? Were you not on the... on the island together?” Simon tried not to bring up the dreadful place, especially with the royals who were there, but something told him Valko wouldn’t yell at him for it.

[simonjager]

valko.

two dudes sitting in a room five feet apart (or closer idk) @simonjager​

Valko’s head rolled back against his chair. He snorted a laugh. Spit droplets flew from the less swollen side of his mouth. When they had told him they could bring him in the easy way or the hard way, he’d incorrectly assumed that was a choice. His preference had been the easy way - the one where he got to hold onto his multiple drinks and not get punched in the face - but his jailor had been looking forward to doing things the hard way apparently. Valko let his head fall forward, and squinted at the one other person in the room.

“Hey. Pssst.” Valko jerked his head, trying to get the man’s attention. His chair wobbled slightly, but the rope that bound him to it remained as tight as ever. “I don’t know if you can see… my drink is like… right by you. The tall glass with the lime? Could you just… nudge that over my way?”

-

“Valko,” Simon hissed at the prince sitting on the other side of the room. Simon had been trying to rouse him for what felt like hours. He was either unconscious, dead, or ignoring him. Simon let out a frustrated sigh and wriggled again against the ropes restraining him to an antique chair that probably wasn’t meant for guests to sit on.

One moment, Simon was walking down the hall to wait for Lecia and catch a ride to where they were staying for the night. All he heard was the shuffle of feet behind him and something hit him on the back of the head, and he woke up like... this. Aching in pain and worked up into a panic, unable to move. At least he was not alone. Assuming Valko was still alive.

Simon shivered at the morbid thoughts and finally heard Valko make a sound.

“W-What?”

Looking down, there was indeed a glass with a lime in front of his feet. He tried to judge the distance between them. How would Valko even pick it up if he was able to reach it? Simon shook his head and nudged the glass with his foot anyway. “We need to get out of here and find out who has done this. Lecia has my phone, do you know if you have yours?”

[simonjager]

--

lecia.

-

Lecia accepted his coat with enthusiastic thank you, and quickly wrestled her arms inside the oversized sleeves as he spoke. He had a way of saying no without making it seem like a no. Clever. Had this conversation taken place earlier in the evening, before all the drinks and the socializing, Lecia could probably have articulated her dismay in a fashion more befitting a princess. As it was, all she managed was to throw her hands in the air as she said, “Closer?!” 

Somewhere closer defeated the whole purpose of the expedition. But he made a good point about the time. It would be a waste to travel all the way there, and then have to turn around and come back without any waffles. Her arms dropped to her sides. She wiggled her shoulders to reposition the coat. It was warm, but it felt as if it would fall off if she moved the wrong way.

“Maybe tomorrow is not terrible,” she said. A whole day free from boring lunches and sitting around. A classic road trip. Waffles. The more she considered it, the more Lecia liked the idea. “Yes, I can do this tomorrow. We need an excuse to miss the activities.”

Tomorrow it was then, she decided, without waiting for an answer. It had been his suggestion after all. She shrugged her shoulders again to readjust. Finding this didn’t quite do what she wanted, Lecia reached for the front of the coat. The empty ends of the coat sleeve flapped about as she patted down the front.

“Your pockets are lumpy, Simon. What you have in here? Forks from dinner?”

The enticing thought of skipping out on formal breakfasts and stuffy meetings temporarily distracted Simon from the impending panic of Lecia discovering the ring box in his pocket. He really liked the idea of shirking off their engagements for some waffles. It was unlike him. A very Lecia idea. Being with her made Simon much less concerned about his less interesting responsibilities like rubbing shoulders with other royals at events.

He’d been lost in thought about driving off to Belgium when Lecia asked about his pockets. “It must be my phone.” Was it? He might have shoved his phone in the same inside pocket as the ring. His phone was certainly not in his pants pocket so perhaps it would be a believable enough explanation.

“Anyway, if we are to do this trip for waffles, perhaps we should consider turning in for the night? So that we can wake up earlier than everyone and slip away unnoticed.” Simon managed a smile despite the nervousness he felt under the surface. It wasn’t often he did the thinking about sneaking.

👣 for your muse and my muse exploring the garden maze. (lecia)

“Are you cold?” Simon asked at a whisper. To their knowledge, there was no one around in the garden, but it still seemed safer to be discreet. It felt like breaking the rules, being out this late. And yet Simon found it more exhilarating than dreadful. “You can have my jacket, if you want.”The words had just left his mouth when he remembered what he’d concealed in the inner pocket. A velvet box with a ring inside. It wasn’t big enough to be spotted just by looking, but the weight of it would probably be felt once Lecia donned the jacket. “I’m a bit chilly,” Simon added with an odd quirk of his brow, unable to formally rescind his offer. It was dark and Lecia was easily distracted, so maybe she wouldn’t… notice? If only he’d had the chance to actually give Lecia the ring earlier. Now Simon started feeling a bit ill.

[simonjager]

It was unconscionable not to give up his jacket for Lecia. He paused on the path to remove it, unable to steal a moment to get the velvet box out of the inner pocket. The jacket was large enough, surely she wouldn’t notice...

Simon draped the jacket over Lecia’s shoulders and his face crinkled at her proposition. “Tonight?” he repeated. Keeping her distracted would help with the jacket issue. “Belgium. Hm. I am hungry. But must it be Belgian waffles? We could go somewhere... closer.”

He checked his watch with a squint. “There is no guarantee places are open at this hour. Wouldn’t it be a waste if we went all the way to Belgian and there were no waffles? Maybe the staff here can make waffles, and we can go to Bruges tomorrow.” With the proper support of staff and security, and probably most importantly, King Afonso’s awareness that his daughter was leaving the country.

👣 for your muse and my muse exploring the garden maze. (lecia)

“Are you cold?” Simon asked at a whisper. To their knowledge, there was no one around in the garden, but it still seemed safer to be discreet. It felt like breaking the rules, being out this late. And yet Simon found it more exhilarating than dreadful. “You can have my jacket, if you want.”The words had just left his mouth when he remembered what he’d concealed in the inner pocket. A velvet box with a ring inside. It wasn’t big enough to be spotted just by looking, but the weight of it would probably be felt once Lecia donned the jacket. “I’m a bit chilly,” Simon added with an odd quirk of his brow, unable to formally rescind his offer. It was dark and Lecia was easily distracted, so maybe she wouldn’t… notice? If only he’d had the chance to actually give Lecia the ring earlier. Now Simon started feeling a bit ill.

[simonjager]

lecia.

-

Amusement appeared in the quirk of a grin, and a rush of air through her nose that was almost a chuckle. That was exactly what she’d wanted to know earlier - if she ran off per her bestie’s plan, would Simon leave everything behind and come along. But no matter what had the potential to cover more than just going off on adventure. Namely, everything she had yet to disclose about her time at sea or the havoc she’d helped wreak across an island.

“That is a big promise,” she said, almost scolding, “There are many whats for it is no matter.” The somewhat garbled response was a result of the late hour. She gave him a squeeze, a reminder to herself that he was there and she had made the choice to stay. For now, at least.

Having finally hit that point at whatever o’clock in the morning, when the need to sleep could no longer be forced off the stage into the wings, Lecia quieted down. Her eyelids drooped. Then closed. Just to rest her eyes for a few seconds, she told herself. 

She tried to imagine a life with Simon, wanting each other no matter what. For her, that might mean conceding to a royal responsibility she’d been avoiding for some time. For him, an acceptance of her history of pirates and bloodshed. Or perhaps they would do neither. Perhaps they would run off into the sunset like she wanted. The thought twisted in the pit of her stomach.

“I think…” She stopped. Cleared her throat.

“If I am to marry, I want to be as you say, being together no matter what. I am not certain we are ready for no matter what,” she told him, “But I like you, Simon. I have no wish to leave.”

-

The hesitancy to devote herself entirely came as a minor blow to the ego. And yet Simon was grateful for the honesty--something his previous relationship lacked. The status of royalty had almost been a matter of coercion between them to keep up appearances, always looking happy and expressing their love for the press to propagate. 

Lecia didn’t want to leave. Neither did he. They had a chance at making something work, he thought. But a wedding would need to be postponed for as long as possible while they figured things out.

“I agree with you. We need more time to determine if we are ready. I think we can afford that.” Any decision made in haste could lead to disaster. Simon wondered, though, if he was the type of man that Lecia would choose. Or if in the end, anyone would be right for her.

The exhaustion really took hold then. Heavy conversation made for heavy eyelids for both of them. Simon turned toward Lecia and gently pulled her into an embrace. How strange it was to feel such a rush of warmth from such a simple gesture. “All I ask is for you to let me know if you wish to leave. I will do the same,” he whispered. 

“I like you too, Lecia. I like you a lot.” He’d been a much younger man the last time he said that to someone. Simon grinned and ducked his head down to press his face to the top of Lecia’s head, feeling like he was heating up even more than moments ago. “Right now, I don’t want anything to change.”

[simonjager]

lecia.

-

She contemplated the question. Many years ago there had been a boy she’d actually promised to marry, who had planted flowers to spell out her name. When it ended between them, it was a… what was the phrase Brian used for such things? Dumpster fire. Well, they had been in secondary school after all. Young love was full of drama and folly.

“If you are in a room with a locked door, there is no point to say you have no plans to leave. You cannot leave. But if you have a key or a window, then to stay is a choice, yes? It is important to know your choice,” she said. Aaron’s offer was an open window.

Lecia’s fingers tugged absentmindedly on the corner of her pillow, caught between wanting to reach out again and aware that Simon was upset. Mostly because of the cursing.

“Maybe I am not good for settling down. But if I marry Aaron, we will date people we really like in secret. This is… I do not want this.” She glanced up at the ceiling where Simon was looking, but she didn’t see anything. “Everything is politics and presentation. Even you and I, our path is chosen for a stupid tabloid. I know royal children are born for… do you never wish to… to…” She stumbled over the words.

“To love someone with your whole heart, and say none of that matters?”

Loneliness struck her quite hard then. Deciding she did not care if he was angry, Lecia scooted over to close the gap between them. She cuddled up against his side and snaked her arm around him. When she’d found a comfortable spot, she spoke softly, “I do not wish to break up either, and that is the hardest part.”

-

Choices. Simon lived with the illusion of choice being the royal firstborn of his family, shackled to the same future as every crown prince had been for generations. His sense of duty to the crown was weighed heavier by an irresponsible younger brother. Simon’s whole existence was to be an honorable member of the family, to perhaps someday rule, and settle down to continue the royal bloodline. He had been on track to do so until the island.

His parents cared more about the family bloodline than anything--he knew exactly why they triggered the engagement trap on Lecia when they did. Even if Simon believed Aaron could somehow free them, Simon balked at the thought. Knowing his duty to the crown and his family was confused by the complicated mix of affection for Lecia. An understanding and respect that the princess was reluctant to be caged in.

Simon tried to withdrawal in his thoughts and place a distance on the present, but Lecia moved to his side again with a warm embrace. He turned his head toward her with a smile that he couldn’t resist. “Yes,” he said simply. His eyes searched her face for a moment, words lost to him. Lecia posed a question that Simon knew the answer to, if he only knew how to say so. Perhaps the words were hard to utter because of the uncertainty. Lecia spoke in hypotheticals that Simon only just then recognized as reality.

“What would you think if...--you do not have to answer now. But, what if I told you I want to be with you, no matter what? Would it make you want to stay? With me?”

[simonjager]

lecia.

-

Lecia averted her eyes as he spoke. Her fingers continued to brush through his hair, and she listened closely. She didn’t hear the same passion in his words that had been impressed upon her earlier. Nothing to indicate the kind of connection that could make a person ignore the attention of a professional football player or know, body and soul, that they had found the one. Nevertheless, she suspected there was more romance than he was letting on. He spoke so little of his marriage before now, and Lecia understood the kind of suffering that had to be bottled up.

“First I say why also, but this does not cause offense.” A grin spread across her face, her eyes squinting as she let out a short, breathy laugh. She had been quite rude back then, in hindsight. But she did not water down her opinions around Aaron (except when it came to certain pirate boyfriends), and the German king seemed to understand her reluctance. Being that it mirrored his own at the time.

“He worries he is forced to marry. We are very close, and good at working together so he prefers me to someone his father will choose,” she explained, “But I say I cannot, I must be free. Aaron says an engagement is protecting both of us from arrangements we do not choose, and this is a good point. I agree to be engaged, but not to marry. We are pretending until his father dies.”

Her hand drifted lower to rest against Simon’s cheek.

“I am sorry your Ingrid is gone. She sounds nice.”

Like a proper princess. Or just all around good person. Like Sofia. Lecia withdrew her hand, and settled into the pillows. She yawned. Her eyelids drooped. Scattered thoughts began to drift through her mind until one forced her eyes back open. For all the time she had spent wavering on whether or not she wanted to marry, she was not the only one on the hook for their carelessness back in fall. To that point -

“I think must tell you something,” she said with a sudden urgency.

“I think you must know Aaron will stop our engagement if I ask. He offers before, and he says this again tonight. I do not say yes, because…” She hesitated. Her face scrunched up. “I do not know. I like when we are together. But it is not right you do not know of the offer.”

Leave it to Aaron Herzog to come up with a hare-brained attempt to foil possible arranged marriages by becoming fake engaged with a friend. Simon couldn’t help but acknowledge to himself that had the German crown prince and the Portuguese princess announced their engagement, he would have probably bought it.

The secret arrangement was certainly curious. Risking the backlash of breaking up an engagement outweighed the fear of an unwanted marriage, sure. The topic of Aaron was changed to an offer that made Simon’s face go sour. He rolled onto his back, withdrawing his hand from where it had rested on Lecia’s side.

The ceiling went out of focus. His brow furrowed, he squinted. “How the bloody hell would he--” That wasn’t the point, he realized, but the political gymnastics were--well--impossible, one would think, but Herzog was never limited by convention.

Lecia said she liked them together. He agreed, but withheld the comment until he could rationalize why Lecia was speaking to Aaron about breaking them up. “If you think it is best,” he started slowly, then trailed off. Simon felt sick suddenly, something ached in his chest. It hurt in a way he hadn’t felt before. Was this what it felt like to be rejected?

“Before the engagement, I had no plans of breaking up with you, Lecia. I feel the same now.” Simon continued to stare up at the ceiling. “But if you...” He couldn’t even put the offer on the table to let Lecia go. It would have to be a clean break and Simon couldn’t imagine having nothing to do with Lecia. “You said you wanted to be free. Is that still true? Are you looking for something, for someone?”

[simonjager]

👣 for your muse and my muse exploring the garden maze. (lecia)

“Are you cold?” Simon asked at a whisper. To their knowledge, there was no one around in the garden, but it still seemed safer to be discreet. It felt like breaking the rules, being out this late. And yet Simon found it more exhilarating than dreadful. “You can have my jacket, if you want.” The words had just left his mouth when he remembered what he’d concealed in the inner pocket. A velvet box with a ring inside. It wasn’t big enough to be spotted just by looking, but the weight of it would probably be felt once Lecia donned the jacket. “I’m a bit chilly,” Simon added with an odd quirk of his brow, unable to formally rescind his offer. It was dark and Lecia was easily distracted, so maybe she wouldn’t... notice? If only he’d had the chance to actually give Lecia the ring earlier. Now Simon started feeling a bit ill.

[simonjager]

lecia.

-

“I want to know what she is like,” said Lecia, pushing forward on the sensitive topic with all the delicacy of the proverbial bull in a china shop. She turned on her side, propped her head up with her elbow, and set the candy bowl between them. “How you are meeting, it is romantic like a storybook? When you are knowing you are in love forever?”

Being blunt did not mean she was unfeeling. There were a number of topics Lecia liked to avoid, much to the irritation (or, perhaps, worry) of family and friends. She could empathize with the choice to avoid rather than spew feelings left and right. She watched him smile. Sort of. Something about the expression felt wanting though she could not have pinpointed exactly what. In turn, she frowned. Her hand reached out, and she began to play with Simon’s hair.

“You do not have to answer. I do not want you are sad.”

She’d been given plenty to think about during the car ride to dinner in terms of what it meant to find the one and promise forever. Of course, hearing about marriage from someone she was actually potentially going to marry carried some additional weight.

“I do not like to talk for sad things either. Or mad things. Aaron says to me, I have too many secrets because of this.” But the reverse side of that was, Lecia felt, that Aaron could be a bit nosy. Some things were for her to know, and no one else. 

“Aaron asks for me to marry him once. It is not like a storybook.”

-

He didn’t have to answer. Simon mulled over declining to talk about Ingrid, especially in the way Lecia presented it. Like a romance. It must have seemed very romantic based on the pictures and interviews, the two of them always smiling for the camera. Simon knew he had to be careful how he spoke about Ingrid and their marriage with his fiancée.

Simon turned onto his side, mirroring Lecia, and reaching out to place his hand on her waist. Her fingers moved through his hair, the touch a much needed comfort as he began to speak. “We were engaged when I was 21, and Ingrid was 19. The engagement was... arranged, but Ingrid’s mother suggested that I propose, hence the engagement photos.” He’d bought a ring for Lecia but could never pin her down--did she want to do an engagement right, with Simon down on one knee? Or would Lecia find it too sentimental, too soppy? 

“Our families had been close, and I knew her growing up. She was kind, almost to a fault. Always wanted to keep busy. She accomplished quite a lot. We made a good team. She cared about changing the world, and I--helped.” In hindsight, it was exhausting, all of the trips across Europe to volunteer their time to all kinds of causes.

“I’m sorry if it does not sound romantic,” he added, looking down. “When I think about the past, it becomes complicated, because I have no choice but to leave that all behind.” He gave Lecia’s waist a little squeeze and smiled again. “Ingrid and I got along. We didn’t--” He cleared his throat. “You and I, together, it’s different. It is hard to explain.”

Lecia spoke of secrets and difficult topics of discussion. And how Aaron-- “What? Aaron asked you to--to marry him?” Clearly, nothing came of it. But the thought was still shocking. Actually, a little laughable, even. Simon scoffed. “Why? What did you say?”