Chapter Text
Roshaun was having a headachy day. He had spent all of the day so far meeting with his subjects and hearing their complaints. He had no idea how they expected him to deal with some of the things they had brought up. One man had complained about his daughter’s friend and how she was a bad influence. Like Roshaun didn’t have better things to do than teach a parent how to parent.
He had just dealt with another complaint about the school system - yes every Wellakhit was now expected to have a minimum of ten years education, no exceptions, when he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure. Dairine skillfully wove her way through the crowd until she was next to him. She dipped into a low curtsy and stayed there for three seconds. The crowd didn’t seem to notice who exactly Dairine was. Probably because she was dressed like a servant and hadn’t been officially introduced to the public. Or because they were too wrapped up with their own problems.
“Sunlord,” she greeted him respectfully.
“Lady Dhairine,” he responded.
Hey, you. She sent her thoughts to him as she gracefully sat upon a mat on the floor.
Hey. His response conveyed his inner weariness.
You eaten anything today?
Another man stepped up with complaints, no.
Roshaun! I’ll go get someone to bring you something.
Dairine stayed for three more complaints, enough to formally have shown her respects to both Roshaun and the people. She then stood and bowed to him once more, and then turned and bowed to the people. They all raised their right hand and placed it on their left shoulder. Dairine then activated a transport spell and disappeared. Roshaun marveled briefly at how well Dairine handled interacting with his people. She handled it with a grace that made it seem she’d been doing so her whole life.
Roshaun turned to the next complainer. He started on about how the transportation system was never on time. Roshaun has to calmly explain how the delays are caused by people, not by the system itself. The next complaint came from an elderly lady.
“Sunlord, you have not announced an heir yet, or a formal courting.”
Roshaun repressed the urge to sigh, “I am still very young, madam.”
“When your father was crowned, he was already unionbonded.”
“My father was the suitable age, and was unionbonded before being crowned. My main focus is my duty and not a formal courtship at the moment.”
The lady grumbled and moved aside, revealing a servant who bowed low and told him he had an urgent matter to attend to. Roshaun excused himself and followed the servant to a waiting aircar. Only once he was inside the car did he allow himself to slump down a little against the seat. The day’s events had truly taken it out of him.
Almost before he realized it, he had arrived at the grand dinner hall. Dairine was standing by the doors, waiting for him. She sinks into another deep curtesy the moment he steps out.
“Thought you were going to bring me dinner?” Roshaun teases.
“I was. I got intercepted on my way to the kitchens by your father though. You’re hosting some fancy dinner,” she shrugs.
“And you’re going dressed like that?” She was in casual Wellakhit garb. An outfit suited to higher ranking ladies, but nowhere near formal enough for a dinner.
“I wasn’t invited,” she doesn’t sound bitter, but the tone of her voice suggests that there was more to the story.
Roshaun doesn’t press the issue, “you’ll be taking your leave then?” It’s a product of how long he’s had to hide his emotions but he keeps his tone flat, nearly disinterested.
Dairine eyes a nearby servant, “unless you have a specific task that needs my immediate attention.”
Roshaun waves a hand, “no, not at the moment. Go well, Ambassador.”
She drops into yet another curtesy. “Go with honor, Sunlord.”
With that, Dairine turns swiftly and begins walking away. Roshaun resists both the temptation to reach after her and to follow her. She must sense his unwillingness because she pauses briefly. Without turning around, she sends him a mental picture of both of their preferred methods of parting. Roshaun then turns to the doors, touching only the briefest of hands to his lips, where he could still feel the phantom kiss.