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It's a Friday evening. A documentary about whales is playing on the flat-screen. Takara is sitting on the couch, legs curled up beside her, when her phone buzzes with a notification from Isabella. She's resting her side against Marcus', and she could lean over him to grab her phone from the coffee table, but Marcus is stroking her hair, and she's comfortable, and the last thing she wants is to make him think she wants him to stop. It's hard enough for her to initiate physical touch as it is, and although the kings aren't happy when she tries to push herself, Takara can't help but be frustrated by her lack of progress. To move now, only ten minutes into the documentary and even if it's only to get her phone, feels like admitting defeat.
But there's always another solution.
"Pass me my phone, Caius?"
From the armchair nearby, Caius doesn't glance up from his laptop. "Ask Marcus."
"Marcus is preoccupied," Takara counters. She leans further into Marcus' touch and meets his eyes, warm with amusement.
Caius tsks. "So spoiled," he says without any real heat, but picks up her phone and tosses it lightly to her.
She catches it easily and immediately clicks on Isabella's message, which is why she doesn't realize anything is wrong until Caius says, "Takara."
He almost never calls her Takara. It's always amour or cara or another endearment in French (or Latin, if he's feeling particularly open). That, and his low voice, makes her look up.
"What is it?"
But Caius is focused on her wrist.
Takara fights the urge to tug her sleeve lower. He's already seen it, and that would only make it seem more suspicious. "It's not what you're thinking--"
"I'll be the judge of that," he replies tensely.
"Dearest one," Marcus says, and oh, his voice is filled with devastation. He reaches slowly for her hands. "May I?"
Takara sighs and lets him tug her sleeve back to reveal the purplish bruise blooming on the side of her wrist. Caius snarls. Beside her, Marcus has gone very still.
Takara just blinks. "It's darker than before."
"Who did this to you?" Caius snaps. He's pacing around the room at a dizzying speed. "Give me a name."
"Nobody did this to me. I did it to myself." At their skeptical looks, Takara adds, "I'm not lying. You can tell I'm not lying."
"Takara--"
"Let's just ask Aro," she interrupts. "But he will tell you exactly what I'm telling you now. I accidentally hit my wrist on a door when I tried to close it yesterday. That's all." She stands up and takes Caius' cold hands in her own, squeezing them in reassurance. Given her past, she understands why the kings might be reluctant to believe her when she says it's nothing -- it's frustrating, but she does understand -- except in this case, it really is nothing.
Caius relaxes marginally, and without taking her eyes off him, Takara calls, "Aro."
There's a brief rush of wind, and Aro stands before her. Takara squeezes Caius' hands again, before releasing them and taking Aro's. His expression clears in an instant, and he laughs.
"Your worries are unfounded, brothers. Takara speaks the truth--"
She raises a brow. "Of course I did."
"My apologies, carissima, I did not mean to doubt you, only inform my brothers that this was indeed an unfortunate accident."
"That's a little dramatic, don't you think? I've had far worse."
At the reminder, the kings tense. Takara winces internally, then again when she remembers Aro is still holding her hands.
"Any injury to you is taken with the utmost gravity," Marcus says, and the worry in his eyes makes her soften.
"It's just a bruise, Marcus. It'll be gone in a day or two."
"But you will tell us, next time, if you have any injury, no matter how small," Aro says.
Takara considers. "Alright," she agrees, and tugs the kings back over to the sitting area, "now let's keep watching. We're about to get introduced to the humpback whales."